2019
See How That Works?
30/07/19 16:07
Evan and I went food shopping at Hannaford's this past week. I arranged to meet up with him in the parking lot and we went into the store together. I'm more than happy to join him to get the ball rolling since I suspect that he's not always on top of his game when it comes to food shopping. I think he's just as happy to have a bit of fast food from time to time and that saves him from having to do things like go food shopping. It is not one of his favorite activities.
He's a smart shopper though. He steers clear of products that have maybe a bit too much sugar or maybe any sugar at all. He's a reader of labels as well and he should be with that whole peanut allergy and everything. Oh, and he's not a lover of carbs in any way shape or form and seems to avoid bread, cereals, etc toward that end. It's all about protein and he's clear in his mind as to what that means and he shops accordingly.
I think it works best when I wheel the cart and we go aisle by aisle with him picking things up and putting them in the cart as we walk along. Nancy was at work this last time he and I went shopping so that was fine. I went with him back to his place and helped him carry his groceries up to his apartment. He was very pleased with his purchases and I think he felt pretty good about having something in the house so he didn't have to run out to get something at all hours of the day and night.
He threw a hamburger slider in a pan and he put the pan on the back burner to cook while I helped him put away the groceries and clean up a bit. I forgot to remind him not to go shopping when he's hungry but that time had come and gone so I said nothing. He still needs a couple of things in his kitchen like a good spatula and a couple of other things so I'll keep an eye open for them in the coming weeks.
He bought ingredients to make American chop suey but I think he felt a little at loose ends when it came to putting all of the ingredients together in the right sequence in order to prepare the meal. I feel that way myself when any recipe includes more than five or six ingredients.
It's just overwhelming so I avoid the recipe altogether or follow the recipe and leave out half the ingredients. More often than not, I don't have half the ingredients on hand anyway and going to the store for something that I will only use once is not time or money well spent. Case in point is a three bean salad I made recently which called for the spice, rosemary. I went without it and enjoyed the salad regardless. I might have used an all spice instead and somewhat sparingly I might add.
We bought two pounds of hamburger so I hope in the end he figured out how to make the American chop suey. He picked up some starch here at our house a couple of days ago and he was concerned that bringing too much back to his place might cause a neighbor or two to take notice and he wanted none of that.
It's hard to keep your business private when coming and going means doing so in full view of everyone and anyone who wants to look out their window at any given moment. If I had to guess, I think there are people living in his building who do just that. With nothing else to do with their time, what would you do?
Buying that hand truck was a good idea. I wish it wasn't fire engine red but it is what it is. It's the only way to hustle large quantities of things up to his fourth floor apartment. I think it was more for me quite honestly but he has it stored in his apartment so when I bring things over for him I can just wheel them up on that hand truck and everything is good to go.
It handles probably four milk cartons high worth of goods at a time and as hand trucks go this one is a beauty. My days of lugging bottled water up to his fourth floor flat are over. There is an elevator and that helps but it's still a slog to get it all up there. I've seen other people coming and going in his building with similar carts but nothing like this dolly.
Usually, they're the rickety shopping carts that don't hold much and they look almost unusable were you to fill it with anything heavy. I don't know for sure just how self conscious Evan would be using this cart but it's there for him if he needs it so that is a good thing. If it only gets used when I show up with multiple gallons of spring water then that's fine too.
We invited Evan over for dinner tonight but who knows if he'll show. Sometimes he does and sometimes he doesn't. I'm making whole wheat pasta (gag) with a shrimp puttanesca sauce. I don't think Evan would care much for the dish but he might enjoy having a few cocktail shrimp.
I didn't buy any cocktail sauce so he'll have to do without it if he wants to have some shrimp. I have a few burgers in the freezer that I can throw on the grill in a pinch so we'll have to see how things play out. Oh, and I bought a wedge of parmesan cheese which I will put through the shredder for a nice topping.
If Nancy wants dessert she can have a handful of the raspberry flavored malted milk balls I bought her the other day in Portsmouth. "Oh, and I want some of every flavor except the espresso ones", she reminded me as I walked out the door on my way to Portsmouth.
What's with all these mass shootings? There seems to be an epidemic of them all of a sudden. They seem to be disproportionally young white men wanting, it seems anyway, to rid the landscape of unwanted or undesirables of their choosing. On any given day that can mean blacks, Mexicans, or sometimes just the guy and gal next door who end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Someone asked the question on Twitter today, "why is it that in every one of these instances, the killer or killers leave a manifesto of sorts giving what they believe to be a justification for their hideous actions." And then there is the mad dash in the aftermath of these events when democrats do their level best to scrub or alter any references on the internet that identifies the perpetrator as a democrat or a supporter of same.
In fact, any alterations likely to be made, typically true of entries on Wikipedia, usually switch the killer's political party from democrat to republican to further the white supremacist narrative so often employed by the main street media that all killers are white supremacists and all white supremacists are republican.
Oh, and Trump not only supports them all but he actually encourages them to do what they do if you haven't figured out the end game here. If it turns out that the killer's political affiliation is tied to the democrat party, don't expect to see that item in the news much longer. They protect their own.
It's worth noting that the most recent massacre took place in a gun-free zone. Who would have guessed Texas to have such a thing. That is probably not only a magnet for these freaks but it maximizes the number of people likely impacted by the killer's actions. More gun laws is not the answer.
It is not Trump's fault so blaming him is short of the target so to speak. There will be lessons learned but we have a long way to go before that comes to fruition or not. Sometimes the bottom line is that he is simply a nut intent on doing bad things and that is never a good thing guns or no guns.
But the piling on by the media in order to indict the President by association and remove him from office with their every last breath is a sight to behold. I don't know how they do it with a straight face. Yes, I do. They are deadly serious. They want him out and they started down that road long before he won the Presidency in 2016. Hilary Clinton was supposed to win the election which promised eight more years of progressive policies and a strident and lustful move to the left.
If they can't have him impeached, they will have Kamala Harris make the case for his indictment in the debates once she nails down the nomination. Oh, wait a minute. She's polling in the single digits after Tulsi took her to task in the last debate. Never mind. Hey, we have a mass shooting. And they're Trump supporters, right? See how that works?
Evan never showed up so Nancy and I enjoyed our pasta dish without the benefit of his company. Maybe another time. I should check in with him this week to see if we need to schedule another day to go shopping. I need to mow the lawn today and if I have any time to myself I'll try to squeeze in a bike ride and maybe a quick trip to the gym god willing. Why do I always feel like an Imam when I use that term "god willing"? Anyways, lots to do.
He's a smart shopper though. He steers clear of products that have maybe a bit too much sugar or maybe any sugar at all. He's a reader of labels as well and he should be with that whole peanut allergy and everything. Oh, and he's not a lover of carbs in any way shape or form and seems to avoid bread, cereals, etc toward that end. It's all about protein and he's clear in his mind as to what that means and he shops accordingly.
I think it works best when I wheel the cart and we go aisle by aisle with him picking things up and putting them in the cart as we walk along. Nancy was at work this last time he and I went shopping so that was fine. I went with him back to his place and helped him carry his groceries up to his apartment. He was very pleased with his purchases and I think he felt pretty good about having something in the house so he didn't have to run out to get something at all hours of the day and night.
He threw a hamburger slider in a pan and he put the pan on the back burner to cook while I helped him put away the groceries and clean up a bit. I forgot to remind him not to go shopping when he's hungry but that time had come and gone so I said nothing. He still needs a couple of things in his kitchen like a good spatula and a couple of other things so I'll keep an eye open for them in the coming weeks.
He bought ingredients to make American chop suey but I think he felt a little at loose ends when it came to putting all of the ingredients together in the right sequence in order to prepare the meal. I feel that way myself when any recipe includes more than five or six ingredients.
It's just overwhelming so I avoid the recipe altogether or follow the recipe and leave out half the ingredients. More often than not, I don't have half the ingredients on hand anyway and going to the store for something that I will only use once is not time or money well spent. Case in point is a three bean salad I made recently which called for the spice, rosemary. I went without it and enjoyed the salad regardless. I might have used an all spice instead and somewhat sparingly I might add.
We bought two pounds of hamburger so I hope in the end he figured out how to make the American chop suey. He picked up some starch here at our house a couple of days ago and he was concerned that bringing too much back to his place might cause a neighbor or two to take notice and he wanted none of that.
It's hard to keep your business private when coming and going means doing so in full view of everyone and anyone who wants to look out their window at any given moment. If I had to guess, I think there are people living in his building who do just that. With nothing else to do with their time, what would you do?
Buying that hand truck was a good idea. I wish it wasn't fire engine red but it is what it is. It's the only way to hustle large quantities of things up to his fourth floor apartment. I think it was more for me quite honestly but he has it stored in his apartment so when I bring things over for him I can just wheel them up on that hand truck and everything is good to go.
It handles probably four milk cartons high worth of goods at a time and as hand trucks go this one is a beauty. My days of lugging bottled water up to his fourth floor flat are over. There is an elevator and that helps but it's still a slog to get it all up there. I've seen other people coming and going in his building with similar carts but nothing like this dolly.
Usually, they're the rickety shopping carts that don't hold much and they look almost unusable were you to fill it with anything heavy. I don't know for sure just how self conscious Evan would be using this cart but it's there for him if he needs it so that is a good thing. If it only gets used when I show up with multiple gallons of spring water then that's fine too.
We invited Evan over for dinner tonight but who knows if he'll show. Sometimes he does and sometimes he doesn't. I'm making whole wheat pasta (gag) with a shrimp puttanesca sauce. I don't think Evan would care much for the dish but he might enjoy having a few cocktail shrimp.
I didn't buy any cocktail sauce so he'll have to do without it if he wants to have some shrimp. I have a few burgers in the freezer that I can throw on the grill in a pinch so we'll have to see how things play out. Oh, and I bought a wedge of parmesan cheese which I will put through the shredder for a nice topping.
If Nancy wants dessert she can have a handful of the raspberry flavored malted milk balls I bought her the other day in Portsmouth. "Oh, and I want some of every flavor except the espresso ones", she reminded me as I walked out the door on my way to Portsmouth.
What's with all these mass shootings? There seems to be an epidemic of them all of a sudden. They seem to be disproportionally young white men wanting, it seems anyway, to rid the landscape of unwanted or undesirables of their choosing. On any given day that can mean blacks, Mexicans, or sometimes just the guy and gal next door who end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Someone asked the question on Twitter today, "why is it that in every one of these instances, the killer or killers leave a manifesto of sorts giving what they believe to be a justification for their hideous actions." And then there is the mad dash in the aftermath of these events when democrats do their level best to scrub or alter any references on the internet that identifies the perpetrator as a democrat or a supporter of same.
In fact, any alterations likely to be made, typically true of entries on Wikipedia, usually switch the killer's political party from democrat to republican to further the white supremacist narrative so often employed by the main street media that all killers are white supremacists and all white supremacists are republican.
Oh, and Trump not only supports them all but he actually encourages them to do what they do if you haven't figured out the end game here. If it turns out that the killer's political affiliation is tied to the democrat party, don't expect to see that item in the news much longer. They protect their own.
It's worth noting that the most recent massacre took place in a gun-free zone. Who would have guessed Texas to have such a thing. That is probably not only a magnet for these freaks but it maximizes the number of people likely impacted by the killer's actions. More gun laws is not the answer.
It is not Trump's fault so blaming him is short of the target so to speak. There will be lessons learned but we have a long way to go before that comes to fruition or not. Sometimes the bottom line is that he is simply a nut intent on doing bad things and that is never a good thing guns or no guns.
But the piling on by the media in order to indict the President by association and remove him from office with their every last breath is a sight to behold. I don't know how they do it with a straight face. Yes, I do. They are deadly serious. They want him out and they started down that road long before he won the Presidency in 2016. Hilary Clinton was supposed to win the election which promised eight more years of progressive policies and a strident and lustful move to the left.
If they can't have him impeached, they will have Kamala Harris make the case for his indictment in the debates once she nails down the nomination. Oh, wait a minute. She's polling in the single digits after Tulsi took her to task in the last debate. Never mind. Hey, we have a mass shooting. And they're Trump supporters, right? See how that works?
Evan never showed up so Nancy and I enjoyed our pasta dish without the benefit of his company. Maybe another time. I should check in with him this week to see if we need to schedule another day to go shopping. I need to mow the lawn today and if I have any time to myself I'll try to squeeze in a bike ride and maybe a quick trip to the gym god willing. Why do I always feel like an Imam when I use that term "god willing"? Anyways, lots to do.
All About the Benjamins, Baby!
22/07/19 11:22
Not really. I couldn't get that phrase out of my head this morning while biking. I wanted to use it in my title for the blog today but need to distance myself from the slur that it is presumed to be. It has a nice ring to it but is terribly antisemitic and should be regarded as such for all those interested in the politics of expression.
As it relates to biking, at least for today anyway, it was all about the hills. But "all about the hills" doesn't have nearly the ring that "all about the Benjamins" does so we'll go with the first of the two phrases that rolls off the tongue most easily.
I've been taking a back roads route while biking these past couple of days because of the incessant heat and the need to avoid a constant and relentless overhead sun. The route is mostly in the shade and getting out from beneath the sun during the one hour plus ride is and continues to be an attractive alternative on those especially hot and cloudless days.
Not to digress but I like nothing better than cracking the window before bedtime and putting the fan on a two hour timer so it brings in the cooler night air but doesn't keep me awake all night. That doesn't get the job done when overnight temperatures never get below 80. Stifling is stifling.
I think the whole heat index thing that incorporates humidity and all the rest has been oppressive and unhealthy for those with respiratory challenges, etc. Running the air conditioner all night long doesn't work either if for no other reason than it's too damn noisy.
But back to the back roads. I'm of the mind, getting out from beneath the sun aside, that the back roads route provides a better workout by and large. There are more hills and that makes for more of an effort and that makes for a better workout.
Riding on Ocean Boulevard is great too and you can't beat the inspiration that you get from seeing the ocean at every turn in the roadway. It's enough to give you that extra spring in your step, that extra bit of adrenalin that morphs into endorphins the further and the harder you ride, and your acquired taste for the the salt infused air along the shoreline makes you wonder if there isn't some truth to the rumors of our humble origins having begun in the world's great oceans.
So when I had to make a choice today about taking the back roads or not taking the back roads, I opted for the more difficult route which put me squarely on the back roads once again. It's all about the back roads, baby! And then, halfway through the ride where I had a chance to cut back to Ocean Boulevard for my return trip, I did just that. Had it been sunny in the least, I would have stayed the course.
As I rode along the Boulevard I had a chance to reconsider my thoughts when it comes to getting more of a benefit on the back roads. Yes, the hills are a good thing. Yes, even the downhill portions of those winding backroads are fun and challenging in their own way, but riding oceanside is and can be challenging too. Maybe it's not all about either the Benjamins or the back roads. Maybe it's all about wind speed and direction.
With a stiff wind at my back, I almost don't have to pedal the bike to move along at a decent clip. Riding into a stiff wind is a horse of an entirely different color. Maybe not having to exert myself too much on at least one leg of my ride is not optimal. Here I am reconsidering it all again on the fly.
On the back roads, both ways are equalling challenging. So, that's different. There is less of a chance I'll cross paths with immovable objects if I take the back roads too. That goes for both human and non-human traffic. And, of course, chances of running into something or somebody on Ocean Boulevard are infinitely greater during the crazy and chaotic summer months.
Chances of something running into me are pretty good too while on the Boulevard. Teenagers texting while behind the wheel, children running ahead of their parents on or off the crosswalk with their boogey boards in a rush to get to the beach, senior citizens whose medication leaves them woozy and unfocused while driving in and around town, all real dangers and worthy of a cyclists attention.
People have even thrown things at me while riding for chrissakes so we can't discount that possibility. Quite honestly, anything is possible on the Boulevard. Maybe less so on the back roads. And riding alone on the back roads is one thing. Riding on the back roads with Nancy is quite another.
Stories abound of women disappearing without a trace on remote stretches of highway only to be discovered years later having met a gruesome end at the hands of a serial killer or other. As such, I never allow myself to take my eyes off of her while riding on the back roads. It is a vigilance that can be distracting in and of itself but a necessary vigilance nonetheless. Nothing gets left to chance on the road less travelled. Nothing at all.
As it relates to biking, at least for today anyway, it was all about the hills. But "all about the hills" doesn't have nearly the ring that "all about the Benjamins" does so we'll go with the first of the two phrases that rolls off the tongue most easily.
I've been taking a back roads route while biking these past couple of days because of the incessant heat and the need to avoid a constant and relentless overhead sun. The route is mostly in the shade and getting out from beneath the sun during the one hour plus ride is and continues to be an attractive alternative on those especially hot and cloudless days.
Not to digress but I like nothing better than cracking the window before bedtime and putting the fan on a two hour timer so it brings in the cooler night air but doesn't keep me awake all night. That doesn't get the job done when overnight temperatures never get below 80. Stifling is stifling.
I think the whole heat index thing that incorporates humidity and all the rest has been oppressive and unhealthy for those with respiratory challenges, etc. Running the air conditioner all night long doesn't work either if for no other reason than it's too damn noisy.
But back to the back roads. I'm of the mind, getting out from beneath the sun aside, that the back roads route provides a better workout by and large. There are more hills and that makes for more of an effort and that makes for a better workout.
Riding on Ocean Boulevard is great too and you can't beat the inspiration that you get from seeing the ocean at every turn in the roadway. It's enough to give you that extra spring in your step, that extra bit of adrenalin that morphs into endorphins the further and the harder you ride, and your acquired taste for the the salt infused air along the shoreline makes you wonder if there isn't some truth to the rumors of our humble origins having begun in the world's great oceans.
So when I had to make a choice today about taking the back roads or not taking the back roads, I opted for the more difficult route which put me squarely on the back roads once again. It's all about the back roads, baby! And then, halfway through the ride where I had a chance to cut back to Ocean Boulevard for my return trip, I did just that. Had it been sunny in the least, I would have stayed the course.
As I rode along the Boulevard I had a chance to reconsider my thoughts when it comes to getting more of a benefit on the back roads. Yes, the hills are a good thing. Yes, even the downhill portions of those winding backroads are fun and challenging in their own way, but riding oceanside is and can be challenging too. Maybe it's not all about either the Benjamins or the back roads. Maybe it's all about wind speed and direction.
With a stiff wind at my back, I almost don't have to pedal the bike to move along at a decent clip. Riding into a stiff wind is a horse of an entirely different color. Maybe not having to exert myself too much on at least one leg of my ride is not optimal. Here I am reconsidering it all again on the fly.
On the back roads, both ways are equalling challenging. So, that's different. There is less of a chance I'll cross paths with immovable objects if I take the back roads too. That goes for both human and non-human traffic. And, of course, chances of running into something or somebody on Ocean Boulevard are infinitely greater during the crazy and chaotic summer months.
Chances of something running into me are pretty good too while on the Boulevard. Teenagers texting while behind the wheel, children running ahead of their parents on or off the crosswalk with their boogey boards in a rush to get to the beach, senior citizens whose medication leaves them woozy and unfocused while driving in and around town, all real dangers and worthy of a cyclists attention.
People have even thrown things at me while riding for chrissakes so we can't discount that possibility. Quite honestly, anything is possible on the Boulevard. Maybe less so on the back roads. And riding alone on the back roads is one thing. Riding on the back roads with Nancy is quite another.
Stories abound of women disappearing without a trace on remote stretches of highway only to be discovered years later having met a gruesome end at the hands of a serial killer or other. As such, I never allow myself to take my eyes off of her while riding on the back roads. It is a vigilance that can be distracting in and of itself but a necessary vigilance nonetheless. Nothing gets left to chance on the road less travelled. Nothing at all.
All Aboard!
19/07/19 07:10
We figured that while we're in Boston waiting for Evan and Noah to sit through nine innings of a Red Sox game why not stop by one of the new marijuana retail establishments located in Brookline. We have a few states on board now that offer retail marijuana to the public and Massachusetts is up and running. It was more out of curiosity than anything else that we decided to stop by. We didn't know what to expect entirely and that was part of the allure.
I envisioned a gallery type set-up with buds of every conceivable type on display. The lighting would be just so and the manicured buds placed in glass vials on shelf after shelf would exude purplish and bronzed hues typical of cannabis plants harvested in its prime.
Each and every variety would be tagged and classified one way or another by its genus, assigned a descriptive label, and marked with the appropriate notations indicating THC content giving the end user some notion of its ultimate toxicity.
The shops themselves might more closely resemble a high end jewelry store than a ragtag operation run by a gaggle of hippies with dreadlocks and wearing tie dyed shirts. We rightly or wrongly expected long lines winding in and around the store of patient patrons awaiting their turn to enter the store.
These would not be your hash dens of the past enveloped as they were more often than not in a haze of smokey residue with black lights and love beads clattering loudly as occupants stumbled from room to room in search of familiar faces, comforting cushions, and corners in which to languish.
What we found instead were short lines, no product on display, no glass shelves, no black lights, no tie dyed shirts, and no dreadlocks. The store itself was housed on the ground floor of a large three story marble and stone monument of a building that once served as a local bank and lines that once formed inside the bank with patrons transacting business now served to funnel customers to the various teller windows where sales associates stood ready to discuss options and dispense product in specified lots as requested.
The unspoken rules of yesteryear when similar transactions were done in the shadows, in back alleys, between friends and dealers, were still in play here and we dared not look too closely into the eyes of others standing in silence in and around us while waiting our turn.
Buying and consuming marijuana has always been an underground activity for lack of better phraseology and making it legal has only marginally changed that mindset at least for now. I resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the nonsensical activity we were about to engage in.
After being beckoned to an open window by a now available "teller", we had an open and honest discussion with the sales associate about what specifically he had on hand, what remained in their inventory after a long and busy day at the dispensary (we arrived a little after 6 PM) , just how much of each we wanted to buy, the differences between sativa and indica strains, and what end result we thought we might like to achieve upon arriving home with our selections.
Our associate was not a stoner or a throwback to the sixties when Woodstock, Jimi Hendrix, and patchouli oil were all the rage. He was perhaps expectedly or unexpectedly clean cut, upbeat, spirited when espousing the benefits of their product, and patient but purposeful in his delivery. No question was too absurd or unworthy of a response. And we had a few.
Nancy was particularly interested in hearing more about their CBD oil only to discover that they had none on hand after a busy day. They carried other edibles with varying amounts of THC and some with none. I thought the CBD infused chocolate bar might entice her but it did not and that was that.
I settled on a few sample sized buds with names like "Facewreck", "Black Triangle Kush", "Hurricane", and "Golden Lemon #6." Some more pungent than others, and all in their own containers designed to conceal the contents and any residual odors. I can take or leave the stuff but having a stash in times of extreme dereliction or if I just want to leave the world behind I have something on hand to take me there. All aboard!
Remember, when Evan gets in the car, not a word. We'll be more than happy to tell him about our trip to the Mall but not a word about our visit to the dispensary. The less he knows the better. I was even careful not to open the vials in the car for fear that he might be on to us if he detected evens the slightest whiff of the now legal weed. And then there were the drive by's in and around Boston of our old homes and haunts which we were, of course, delighted to reminisce about.
Nancy and I ended up at Wegman's Market in Chestnut Hill Mall after dropping Evan off in Kenmore Square (one block from Fenway Park) so he could meet up with Noah for the game. As hard as we looked to find something to eat in the prepared food section we just couldn't decide. Given the lateness of the hour, the choices were few and far between and what was there did not look particularly appetizing. We were hungry enough not to be choosy but still walked away without making a selection.
She finally talked me into an ahi and quinoa Poke dish (oh oh oh twist my arm) which was right up my alley. In fact, I order just such a to-go dish quite often from a restaurant hereabouts called Ohana Kitchen. Wegman's salads were previously prepared and ready to go. It came with a sweet and sour soy sauce which added to the overall flavor quite nicely. It was just what the doctor ordered. We bought some cherries and blueberries on our way out the door.
Nancy had a small dish of something that she kept picking at and I was too busy with my own food to inquire as to what she was having to eat. If I had to go by the expression on her face thinking back on it now, I might have said that she was less than thrilled with her choice.
We also stopped by Starbuck's that was just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Wegman's to grab a coffee to get us through the early evening until we had to pick the boys up after the game.
All in all, it was a good night. We dropped Noah off in Central Square to get his car and we bumped around here and there on the city streets just before midnight before finding just the right exit to put us on our path going north.
We dropped Evan off at his home and we finally got to bed around 1:30. It was a bit more than we bargained for, waiting around while the game played out, but we knew what we were getting into. There is some satisfaction in knowing that everyone was going to bed in their own beds at the end of the night and everyone would be waking up to familiar surroundings. Good Night Moon.
I envisioned a gallery type set-up with buds of every conceivable type on display. The lighting would be just so and the manicured buds placed in glass vials on shelf after shelf would exude purplish and bronzed hues typical of cannabis plants harvested in its prime.
Each and every variety would be tagged and classified one way or another by its genus, assigned a descriptive label, and marked with the appropriate notations indicating THC content giving the end user some notion of its ultimate toxicity.
The shops themselves might more closely resemble a high end jewelry store than a ragtag operation run by a gaggle of hippies with dreadlocks and wearing tie dyed shirts. We rightly or wrongly expected long lines winding in and around the store of patient patrons awaiting their turn to enter the store.
These would not be your hash dens of the past enveloped as they were more often than not in a haze of smokey residue with black lights and love beads clattering loudly as occupants stumbled from room to room in search of familiar faces, comforting cushions, and corners in which to languish.
What we found instead were short lines, no product on display, no glass shelves, no black lights, no tie dyed shirts, and no dreadlocks. The store itself was housed on the ground floor of a large three story marble and stone monument of a building that once served as a local bank and lines that once formed inside the bank with patrons transacting business now served to funnel customers to the various teller windows where sales associates stood ready to discuss options and dispense product in specified lots as requested.
The unspoken rules of yesteryear when similar transactions were done in the shadows, in back alleys, between friends and dealers, were still in play here and we dared not look too closely into the eyes of others standing in silence in and around us while waiting our turn.
Buying and consuming marijuana has always been an underground activity for lack of better phraseology and making it legal has only marginally changed that mindset at least for now. I resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the nonsensical activity we were about to engage in.
After being beckoned to an open window by a now available "teller", we had an open and honest discussion with the sales associate about what specifically he had on hand, what remained in their inventory after a long and busy day at the dispensary (we arrived a little after 6 PM) , just how much of each we wanted to buy, the differences between sativa and indica strains, and what end result we thought we might like to achieve upon arriving home with our selections.
Our associate was not a stoner or a throwback to the sixties when Woodstock, Jimi Hendrix, and patchouli oil were all the rage. He was perhaps expectedly or unexpectedly clean cut, upbeat, spirited when espousing the benefits of their product, and patient but purposeful in his delivery. No question was too absurd or unworthy of a response. And we had a few.
Nancy was particularly interested in hearing more about their CBD oil only to discover that they had none on hand after a busy day. They carried other edibles with varying amounts of THC and some with none. I thought the CBD infused chocolate bar might entice her but it did not and that was that.
I settled on a few sample sized buds with names like "Facewreck", "Black Triangle Kush", "Hurricane", and "Golden Lemon #6." Some more pungent than others, and all in their own containers designed to conceal the contents and any residual odors. I can take or leave the stuff but having a stash in times of extreme dereliction or if I just want to leave the world behind I have something on hand to take me there. All aboard!
Remember, when Evan gets in the car, not a word. We'll be more than happy to tell him about our trip to the Mall but not a word about our visit to the dispensary. The less he knows the better. I was even careful not to open the vials in the car for fear that he might be on to us if he detected evens the slightest whiff of the now legal weed. And then there were the drive by's in and around Boston of our old homes and haunts which we were, of course, delighted to reminisce about.
Nancy and I ended up at Wegman's Market in Chestnut Hill Mall after dropping Evan off in Kenmore Square (one block from Fenway Park) so he could meet up with Noah for the game. As hard as we looked to find something to eat in the prepared food section we just couldn't decide. Given the lateness of the hour, the choices were few and far between and what was there did not look particularly appetizing. We were hungry enough not to be choosy but still walked away without making a selection.
She finally talked me into an ahi and quinoa Poke dish (oh oh oh twist my arm) which was right up my alley. In fact, I order just such a to-go dish quite often from a restaurant hereabouts called Ohana Kitchen. Wegman's salads were previously prepared and ready to go. It came with a sweet and sour soy sauce which added to the overall flavor quite nicely. It was just what the doctor ordered. We bought some cherries and blueberries on our way out the door.
Nancy had a small dish of something that she kept picking at and I was too busy with my own food to inquire as to what she was having to eat. If I had to go by the expression on her face thinking back on it now, I might have said that she was less than thrilled with her choice.
We also stopped by Starbuck's that was just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Wegman's to grab a coffee to get us through the early evening until we had to pick the boys up after the game.
All in all, it was a good night. We dropped Noah off in Central Square to get his car and we bumped around here and there on the city streets just before midnight before finding just the right exit to put us on our path going north.
We dropped Evan off at his home and we finally got to bed around 1:30. It was a bit more than we bargained for, waiting around while the game played out, but we knew what we were getting into. There is some satisfaction in knowing that everyone was going to bed in their own beds at the end of the night and everyone would be waking up to familiar surroundings. Good Night Moon.
Catching Up
15/07/19 16:40
We finally got around to getting Mrs G out of the house in one of our weekly visits to Exeter. It was an impromptu sort of thing really but that is what we did. It just so happened that Evan had joined us on this visit, which he is prone to do from time to time, and the lot of us decided that we would take a trip to town where we might go visit a particular store.
Mrs G had given us gift certificates to the store and she now had one for Evan so off we went. The store is a fancy pants market of sorts and not one that either Nancy or I would probably go out of our way to frequent and as such I couldn't recall the last time I had gone there. I only had a vague sense of what we might find but I was a willing participant and, well, along for the ride as they say.
Evan had his eye on the King Pao chicken behind the glass in the deli counter and I had all I could to stay focused with the crowds bumping, nudging, and milling about. I told Nancy after the fact that they really need to engage the services of a Feng Shui expert to improve the flow in that market.
It's no wonder that markets generally have aisles and rows. Consumers need pathways that route them in and out of the store while providing them with choices along the way. If you feel like you are in a corn maze then finding the exit becomes more important than "shopping."
Evan and I went back and forth with the man and woman behind the deli counter about peanut products in the King Pao chicken and we were assured that they used none in the preparation of the dish. It's always a negotiation of sorts and getting a cursory response is generally not what we're looking for when asking the question.
So when the young woman offered to go upstairs to inspect the ingredient list we were good to go. If there is the slightest hesitation on the part of the vendor, or sometimes more concerning, a response that is seemingly too quick, it is just enough to give us pause and more often than not we abandon the notion of buying one or more products that may or may not contain peanuts.
Mrs G made her purchases at the deli and made her way out of the store to an adjoining business while Evan, Nancy and I walked around the store a bit. It was really quite a store and I hadn't remembered it being quite as full fledged as it was. We'll have to go back there when it is less busy so we have a chance to browse at our leisure.
I purchased some chili and parmesan cheese and I'm not sure what Nancy bought. Evan said something about this being his new haunt and that gave us a bit of a chuckle. He ordered a couple of chicken dishes from the deli and some nice looking coleslaw to go with it. I suspect Evan avoids some stores because of his level of real or imagined comfort or discomfort with peanut products, etc. so it's good to see him find a store that works for him.
We dropped Evan off at his place and then drove Mrs G back to her place. She didn't know where Evan lived precisely so she was happy to get a better sense of the place. When we pulled up to Evan's place Mrs G was pointing up to the third or fourth floor to get a confirmation one way or the other as to which apartment he lived in.
Evan was vocal in his opposition to such antics and made no bones about it. Mrs G wasn't being all that conspicuous but that wasn't the point. She took it all in stride and that was the right response under the circumstances. We said our goodbyes and that was that.
I think I have this new computer thing all figured out. Making the transition to a new platform after 11 years using the same computer maybe wasn't the challenge that I thought it was going to be. It ended up being more seamless than I imagined it would. But it's done now except for those applications that I haven't tried to use yet to see if they're supported in my new operating system.
And there were some anxious moments which there always are when considering going from the status quo to god only knows what. It's fairly easy to go from bad to worse when you're talking about technology so one has to tread lightly and go slowly into the night as it were.
I'm in a good place now and I've learned and unlearned a few things in the process. Better to stay nimble as the learning curve is just ahead on the technology highway and those curves can be treacherous. In the words of Uncle "Sleepy" Joe Biden, "slow down, man!"
Evan has plans to go with his friend Noah to a Red Sox game tomorrow night in Boston. Their itinerary is sufficiently dicey such that Nancy and I will give him a ride down and back. We'll go to a movie or something to wile away the hours and pray that the game doesn't go into extra innings.
It will late enough as it is when it all wraps up and we're probably talking after 11 or so. Evan dropped off a few things to eat at our house today which he plans to bring to the game or eat beforehand depending on how it goes. Not sure how the whole peanut thing will work out since peanuts and ball games go hand in hand. It's just one more thing to worry about I suppose.
I tried working on this here blog when I got my new computer up and running and it was acting really weird. I was 2-3 generations removed from Rapidweaver's most recent version so I wasn't really surprised to see it wasn't working well. So I went from version 6.4 to 8.2 and 8.2 is just amazing!
This is what I was hoping for when considering the update and I am not disappointed. No sirree Bob! I haven't tried to publish anything yet so we'll see how that goes. I'm kind of running out of digital hurdles now that everything is set up so I might well enjoy a new challenge.
Mrs G had given us gift certificates to the store and she now had one for Evan so off we went. The store is a fancy pants market of sorts and not one that either Nancy or I would probably go out of our way to frequent and as such I couldn't recall the last time I had gone there. I only had a vague sense of what we might find but I was a willing participant and, well, along for the ride as they say.
Evan had his eye on the King Pao chicken behind the glass in the deli counter and I had all I could to stay focused with the crowds bumping, nudging, and milling about. I told Nancy after the fact that they really need to engage the services of a Feng Shui expert to improve the flow in that market.
It's no wonder that markets generally have aisles and rows. Consumers need pathways that route them in and out of the store while providing them with choices along the way. If you feel like you are in a corn maze then finding the exit becomes more important than "shopping."
Evan and I went back and forth with the man and woman behind the deli counter about peanut products in the King Pao chicken and we were assured that they used none in the preparation of the dish. It's always a negotiation of sorts and getting a cursory response is generally not what we're looking for when asking the question.
So when the young woman offered to go upstairs to inspect the ingredient list we were good to go. If there is the slightest hesitation on the part of the vendor, or sometimes more concerning, a response that is seemingly too quick, it is just enough to give us pause and more often than not we abandon the notion of buying one or more products that may or may not contain peanuts.
Mrs G made her purchases at the deli and made her way out of the store to an adjoining business while Evan, Nancy and I walked around the store a bit. It was really quite a store and I hadn't remembered it being quite as full fledged as it was. We'll have to go back there when it is less busy so we have a chance to browse at our leisure.
I purchased some chili and parmesan cheese and I'm not sure what Nancy bought. Evan said something about this being his new haunt and that gave us a bit of a chuckle. He ordered a couple of chicken dishes from the deli and some nice looking coleslaw to go with it. I suspect Evan avoids some stores because of his level of real or imagined comfort or discomfort with peanut products, etc. so it's good to see him find a store that works for him.
We dropped Evan off at his place and then drove Mrs G back to her place. She didn't know where Evan lived precisely so she was happy to get a better sense of the place. When we pulled up to Evan's place Mrs G was pointing up to the third or fourth floor to get a confirmation one way or the other as to which apartment he lived in.
Evan was vocal in his opposition to such antics and made no bones about it. Mrs G wasn't being all that conspicuous but that wasn't the point. She took it all in stride and that was the right response under the circumstances. We said our goodbyes and that was that.
I think I have this new computer thing all figured out. Making the transition to a new platform after 11 years using the same computer maybe wasn't the challenge that I thought it was going to be. It ended up being more seamless than I imagined it would. But it's done now except for those applications that I haven't tried to use yet to see if they're supported in my new operating system.
And there were some anxious moments which there always are when considering going from the status quo to god only knows what. It's fairly easy to go from bad to worse when you're talking about technology so one has to tread lightly and go slowly into the night as it were.
I'm in a good place now and I've learned and unlearned a few things in the process. Better to stay nimble as the learning curve is just ahead on the technology highway and those curves can be treacherous. In the words of Uncle "Sleepy" Joe Biden, "slow down, man!"
Evan has plans to go with his friend Noah to a Red Sox game tomorrow night in Boston. Their itinerary is sufficiently dicey such that Nancy and I will give him a ride down and back. We'll go to a movie or something to wile away the hours and pray that the game doesn't go into extra innings.
It will late enough as it is when it all wraps up and we're probably talking after 11 or so. Evan dropped off a few things to eat at our house today which he plans to bring to the game or eat beforehand depending on how it goes. Not sure how the whole peanut thing will work out since peanuts and ball games go hand in hand. It's just one more thing to worry about I suppose.
I tried working on this here blog when I got my new computer up and running and it was acting really weird. I was 2-3 generations removed from Rapidweaver's most recent version so I wasn't really surprised to see it wasn't working well. So I went from version 6.4 to 8.2 and 8.2 is just amazing!
This is what I was hoping for when considering the update and I am not disappointed. No sirree Bob! I haven't tried to publish anything yet so we'll see how that goes. I'm kind of running out of digital hurdles now that everything is set up so I might well enjoy a new challenge.
In Your Face
21/06/19 07:16
Wherever you look hereabouts these days you see rainbow flags, rainbow umbrellas, rainbow this, that, and the other thing. What precisely is the community saying with this generous outpouring of support and sappy admiration for the gays in and around their businesses and neighborhoods?
Come on in, we love your queerness? We are not and never have been bigoted when it comes to the LGBTQ community? We stand at the ready to fight to the death against those who would deny you the right to love and cherish one another? We support your alternate lifestyles irrespective of the carnal deviances promoted by those of you living on the fringe and near fringe? Or, we just want your hard earned dollars.
Is it gay pride day, week, or month? I've lost track but the flags are still flying so I'll have to get back to you. In the meantime, how many parades must we endure before this collective queerness plays itself out in our otherwise mostly heterosexual communities?
Do they see themselves as separate and apart from the rest of us when it comes to the rights afforded to us by the Constitution? Do they expect us to not look away and to avert the eyes of our children when their vulgar displays of affection are out in the open for all to see? Or, is "vulgar" indeed in the eye of the beholder?
We are still a morale people at our core and our sensibilities are easily offended by outliers of any kind. This is especially true when genders and the traditional roles of same are twisted and perverted to the point where one no longer knows which is which. It can be confusing. It is not the world that most of us grew up in nor is it a world that most of us want for our children. Clearly and savagely, the genie is now out of the bottle and not likely to be put back in the bottle anytime soon.
Social liberals have confused matters even further by chipping away at the mainstays of our communal niceties by pushing legislation to allow men to use women's rooms and women to use men's rooms. In extreme cases, third genders are allowed on drivers licenses and birth certificates.
We "breeders" are no longer taking the lead when and where it comes to defining societal norms. Our heterosexual heritage is under constant assault by those in the media, by images displayed on the covers of magazines and newspapers, by stories written and plays directed, and by those who knowingly preach and proselytize to our children in classrooms across the nation.
Morality aside, I am all for people having a voice. I am all for people coming out of the shadows. Minority groups across the nation are crying out but not always in ways that endear them to the rest of society. Putting square pegs in round holes has and never will be easy.
There are black voices for and against reparations. There are women looking to increase their numbers in an otherwise male dominated Congress in our nation's capital. There are young people looking to make a difference when it comes to our gun laws, and then there are people like me who look to social media platforms for self expression.
But there seems to be a militancy emerging amongst the queer folk and minority groups in general. An "in your face" militancy if you like. If you are not one of them you are not welcome in their midst. There is a surliness in their behavior that is edgy and unfamiliar. It is unfriendly and decidedly oppositional. It is mean, bold, and unyielding. It is not a good look.
The patchwork of our culture is fraying at the edges and coalitions are forming for the wars yet to come. It's no longer enough to simply wish for a bigger soapbox. Everyone wants their pound of flesh and god help you if you get in their way. Happy trails is what I say. Just remember, without we breeders you would be nothing. Not so much as a mote in God's eye as they say. Start your revolution with that in mind.
Come on in, we love your queerness? We are not and never have been bigoted when it comes to the LGBTQ community? We stand at the ready to fight to the death against those who would deny you the right to love and cherish one another? We support your alternate lifestyles irrespective of the carnal deviances promoted by those of you living on the fringe and near fringe? Or, we just want your hard earned dollars.
Is it gay pride day, week, or month? I've lost track but the flags are still flying so I'll have to get back to you. In the meantime, how many parades must we endure before this collective queerness plays itself out in our otherwise mostly heterosexual communities?
Do they see themselves as separate and apart from the rest of us when it comes to the rights afforded to us by the Constitution? Do they expect us to not look away and to avert the eyes of our children when their vulgar displays of affection are out in the open for all to see? Or, is "vulgar" indeed in the eye of the beholder?
We are still a morale people at our core and our sensibilities are easily offended by outliers of any kind. This is especially true when genders and the traditional roles of same are twisted and perverted to the point where one no longer knows which is which. It can be confusing. It is not the world that most of us grew up in nor is it a world that most of us want for our children. Clearly and savagely, the genie is now out of the bottle and not likely to be put back in the bottle anytime soon.
Social liberals have confused matters even further by chipping away at the mainstays of our communal niceties by pushing legislation to allow men to use women's rooms and women to use men's rooms. In extreme cases, third genders are allowed on drivers licenses and birth certificates.
We "breeders" are no longer taking the lead when and where it comes to defining societal norms. Our heterosexual heritage is under constant assault by those in the media, by images displayed on the covers of magazines and newspapers, by stories written and plays directed, and by those who knowingly preach and proselytize to our children in classrooms across the nation.
Morality aside, I am all for people having a voice. I am all for people coming out of the shadows. Minority groups across the nation are crying out but not always in ways that endear them to the rest of society. Putting square pegs in round holes has and never will be easy.
There are black voices for and against reparations. There are women looking to increase their numbers in an otherwise male dominated Congress in our nation's capital. There are young people looking to make a difference when it comes to our gun laws, and then there are people like me who look to social media platforms for self expression.
But there seems to be a militancy emerging amongst the queer folk and minority groups in general. An "in your face" militancy if you like. If you are not one of them you are not welcome in their midst. There is a surliness in their behavior that is edgy and unfamiliar. It is unfriendly and decidedly oppositional. It is mean, bold, and unyielding. It is not a good look.
The patchwork of our culture is fraying at the edges and coalitions are forming for the wars yet to come. It's no longer enough to simply wish for a bigger soapbox. Everyone wants their pound of flesh and god help you if you get in their way. Happy trails is what I say. Just remember, without we breeders you would be nothing. Not so much as a mote in God's eye as they say. Start your revolution with that in mind.
Scan-A-Roo
18/06/19 07:03
Nancy and I took a trip into Boston on Sunday for an appointment on Monday at NEMC. It's been 3 or 4 years since our last trip into town and it was remarkable how much the skyline has changed just in that short period of time. So much so, in fact, that we kind of lost our bearings here and there when we failed to recognize where we were exactly because the usual landmarks were either gone, updated, or obscured by new taller buildings. The architectural identity of the city was clearly under seige for better or worse.
The Verb Hotel was more welcoming than I remembered and the personnel seemed exceedingly accommodating. I did my level best to avoid using the valet service during our last visit for reasons that I can't honestly recall. It might have had something to do with the fact that I did not own the car that I own now and parking on the street seemed not only the practical thing to do but entirely reasonable given what we thought we might be saving from a dollar and cents standpoint. With a newer car, safety seemed to be a more compelling reason to bite the bullet and go with the valet service.
Our hotel room looked out over the outside wall of Fenway Park stadium where Nancy remarked on the banners that hung from the rafters with the names of players of days past. One of whom, and he has been in the news as of late after being shot in the Dominican Republic, belongs to none other than David Ortiz.
The number worn on the players jersey's were also plastered here and there on the landmark and one that stood out prominently from where we could see looking up from our hotel room was the number "14." That number is one digit shy of my favorite number and it was hard not to take that as a sign of good things to come. Indeed, as it turned out, it was.
The hotel itself, thematically anyway, was a throwback to the sixties and, more specifically, the rock and roll era. Each room had a turntable and the good folks that checked us in at the front desk encouraged us to choose an album to take with us to our room on the second floor. I picked up a Cat Stevens album from a bin right outside the lobby and carried it with me as we made our way to our room.
It's been a long time since I've used a turntable or even listed to a vinyl record being played so that was fun. Remember in the olden days when you had to clean the lint that had collected on the stylus from time to time? You didn't dare touch the needle so you blew on it just hard enough to send the lint on its way. When you were stoned or otherwise inebriated that was not an easy task and quite often took more than one or two huffs. But memories can be funny things so don't quote me on that.
The street outside the hotel was once a rather blasé collection of shops and stores that seemed to be hangers on from a bygone era. The area itself is just on the outskirts of the city common and smack dab in the middle of an area known as The Fens. It was where aspiring musicians and hapless students lived for decades and where housing was adequate and affordable. The transformation in just fours years time, at least on the boulevard where the hotel is located, is truly remarkable.
There are so many more stores and so very few of the old stores remaining as I remembered them. I think there were one or two restaurants we considered that were within walking distance the last time we were in town. And now, every other storefront was seemingly new and exciting and choices were that much more difficult to make given the multitude of options.
If you wanted a decent cup of coffee, there were three or four cafes within walking distance. We had a wonderful dinner at a restaurant right across the street where you made your choices on a computer screen and they texted you at your table when your order was ready. The restaurant we ate at the last time was still there but seemingly anachronistic and out of place. The days of the dark and dingey pub-like joints where you ordered marbled steaks and greasy fries are clearly on the wane if our visit and observations are any indication.
Stir fry and salads were the order of the day and you mixed and matched as you pleased. Behind the steel and glass facade of the first floor establishment there were a decent smattering of evenly placed stainless steel tables that did not require you to place a book of matches beneath one or more legs just to keep the table from rocking to one side or the other. The flickering lights of yesteryear that were designed to illuminate but not highlight, have been replaced with an all encompassing brightness now measured in lumens that bring your dish and every last ingredient in it to life.
However one accounts for the changes taking place in the world around us, there is no mistaking the fact that we are in a new era when it comes to the construction of the kiosks that are designed and built to serve our every need. With so much architecture in and around Boston dating back not just decades but centuries, it is very pleasing indeed to see that the modern can coexist with the past in ways that were once probably difficult to imagine. It is a most welcome change.
My cobb salad was outstanding and it was a bountiful serving enough for two although I must have been hungry because I took none of it home. As a rule, salads don't hold up well over time and they travel even less well. I made a point to make a special solo trip to one of the more appealing coffee shops up the street from the hotel where I wanted to buy a special treat for Nancy. Something to give her after the fact were she to get good news as a celebration of sorts and something that would maybe assuage her in a way that only a good cookie can if the news was not good.
The news was good and Nancy appreciated the cookies and the associated sentiment. It's not that easy to surprise her these days since I'm a fairly predictable guy and have become even more so over time. Familiarity breeds contempt? That might be a bridge too far. So, the scans were fine and he declared the scans as being "clean." He used to say "clear" and we were more than happy with that assessment or term. Either way, it's all systems go and everyone can get back on track with whatever they were doing before we put things on hold until after the appointment.
We popped over to Cambridge around midday just to spend a bit of time in Harvard Square since we hadn't been there in a while. It was too early to head home so we enjoyed the day and walked around town for a bit enjoying the sights and having a spot of coffee at Peets. Harvard was out of session so the streets were busy not with students but with foreign and domestic tourists and locals.
We remarked that there were a lot of empty storefronts and sections of the downtown area that were seemingly under some sort of transition. It was hard to say if what we were seeing were the early signs of an economic collapse or simply a Square in transition. Anything is possible in the Socialist Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
Among the scarier prognostications these days is the possible presidency of one Elizabeth "Pocahontas" Warren. She's now edging out Bernie for the progressive vote and is threatening scary "Uncle" Joe Biden for the lead. Thankfully, she has very little support amongst independents so will be a godsend to Trump if she gets the nomination. We can only hope.
The Verb Hotel was more welcoming than I remembered and the personnel seemed exceedingly accommodating. I did my level best to avoid using the valet service during our last visit for reasons that I can't honestly recall. It might have had something to do with the fact that I did not own the car that I own now and parking on the street seemed not only the practical thing to do but entirely reasonable given what we thought we might be saving from a dollar and cents standpoint. With a newer car, safety seemed to be a more compelling reason to bite the bullet and go with the valet service.
Our hotel room looked out over the outside wall of Fenway Park stadium where Nancy remarked on the banners that hung from the rafters with the names of players of days past. One of whom, and he has been in the news as of late after being shot in the Dominican Republic, belongs to none other than David Ortiz.
The number worn on the players jersey's were also plastered here and there on the landmark and one that stood out prominently from where we could see looking up from our hotel room was the number "14." That number is one digit shy of my favorite number and it was hard not to take that as a sign of good things to come. Indeed, as it turned out, it was.
The hotel itself, thematically anyway, was a throwback to the sixties and, more specifically, the rock and roll era. Each room had a turntable and the good folks that checked us in at the front desk encouraged us to choose an album to take with us to our room on the second floor. I picked up a Cat Stevens album from a bin right outside the lobby and carried it with me as we made our way to our room.
It's been a long time since I've used a turntable or even listed to a vinyl record being played so that was fun. Remember in the olden days when you had to clean the lint that had collected on the stylus from time to time? You didn't dare touch the needle so you blew on it just hard enough to send the lint on its way. When you were stoned or otherwise inebriated that was not an easy task and quite often took more than one or two huffs. But memories can be funny things so don't quote me on that.
The street outside the hotel was once a rather blasé collection of shops and stores that seemed to be hangers on from a bygone era. The area itself is just on the outskirts of the city common and smack dab in the middle of an area known as The Fens. It was where aspiring musicians and hapless students lived for decades and where housing was adequate and affordable. The transformation in just fours years time, at least on the boulevard where the hotel is located, is truly remarkable.
There are so many more stores and so very few of the old stores remaining as I remembered them. I think there were one or two restaurants we considered that were within walking distance the last time we were in town. And now, every other storefront was seemingly new and exciting and choices were that much more difficult to make given the multitude of options.
If you wanted a decent cup of coffee, there were three or four cafes within walking distance. We had a wonderful dinner at a restaurant right across the street where you made your choices on a computer screen and they texted you at your table when your order was ready. The restaurant we ate at the last time was still there but seemingly anachronistic and out of place. The days of the dark and dingey pub-like joints where you ordered marbled steaks and greasy fries are clearly on the wane if our visit and observations are any indication.
Stir fry and salads were the order of the day and you mixed and matched as you pleased. Behind the steel and glass facade of the first floor establishment there were a decent smattering of evenly placed stainless steel tables that did not require you to place a book of matches beneath one or more legs just to keep the table from rocking to one side or the other. The flickering lights of yesteryear that were designed to illuminate but not highlight, have been replaced with an all encompassing brightness now measured in lumens that bring your dish and every last ingredient in it to life.
However one accounts for the changes taking place in the world around us, there is no mistaking the fact that we are in a new era when it comes to the construction of the kiosks that are designed and built to serve our every need. With so much architecture in and around Boston dating back not just decades but centuries, it is very pleasing indeed to see that the modern can coexist with the past in ways that were once probably difficult to imagine. It is a most welcome change.
My cobb salad was outstanding and it was a bountiful serving enough for two although I must have been hungry because I took none of it home. As a rule, salads don't hold up well over time and they travel even less well. I made a point to make a special solo trip to one of the more appealing coffee shops up the street from the hotel where I wanted to buy a special treat for Nancy. Something to give her after the fact were she to get good news as a celebration of sorts and something that would maybe assuage her in a way that only a good cookie can if the news was not good.
The news was good and Nancy appreciated the cookies and the associated sentiment. It's not that easy to surprise her these days since I'm a fairly predictable guy and have become even more so over time. Familiarity breeds contempt? That might be a bridge too far. So, the scans were fine and he declared the scans as being "clean." He used to say "clear" and we were more than happy with that assessment or term. Either way, it's all systems go and everyone can get back on track with whatever they were doing before we put things on hold until after the appointment.
We popped over to Cambridge around midday just to spend a bit of time in Harvard Square since we hadn't been there in a while. It was too early to head home so we enjoyed the day and walked around town for a bit enjoying the sights and having a spot of coffee at Peets. Harvard was out of session so the streets were busy not with students but with foreign and domestic tourists and locals.
We remarked that there were a lot of empty storefronts and sections of the downtown area that were seemingly under some sort of transition. It was hard to say if what we were seeing were the early signs of an economic collapse or simply a Square in transition. Anything is possible in the Socialist Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
Among the scarier prognostications these days is the possible presidency of one Elizabeth "Pocahontas" Warren. She's now edging out Bernie for the progressive vote and is threatening scary "Uncle" Joe Biden for the lead. Thankfully, she has very little support amongst independents so will be a godsend to Trump if she gets the nomination. We can only hope.
Rocketman?
14/06/19 07:14
Nancy and I went to see the movie "Rocketman" yesterday. It was a rainy windswept day and we barely got out of the door soon enough to get over to the theater where it was playing. I've always been a fan of Elton's music or maybe it's just the music I liked growing up and I remain a fan. I wish I had read a little more about the movie before going to see it because I might have been less enthused had I known that parts of the movies resembled more of a musical than a biography.
We decided in retrospect that that was best explained by the fact that Elton John's name appeared in the credits as an executive producer. There is little doubt in my mind that he looks back on much of his life as a tragic figure whose life was transformed by music and his expression of same. There is one scene in the movie, which seemed to be the most touching to me, where he embraces himself as a child signifying an integration of the two spheres of his life which had long ago been fractured, buried, but not entirely forgotten.
Both the positive and negative influences in his life were highlighted and magnified as though in a dream sequence. That is perhaps how everyone in hindsight views the totality of their life's experiences when all is said and done. Scenes from your life flash in and out like a slideshow of emotion and include if one is honest with themselves moments of depravity, acts of desperation, cascading moments of love and loss, pivotal twists and turns, and an enduring rhythm that is inescapably yours and yours alone.
It seemed to me that he barely survived those early years when drugs and alcohol nearly consumed him. He came closer to the brink than I might have imagined. One storyline after another in the movie told the story of that deadly spiraling out of control with schizophrenic scenes from Elton's formative years as a child and in the music industry providing the centrifugal force behind his personal and professional disintegration.
The musical drama started out with his joining a therapy group and ended unsurprisingly with his walking away from that very same group having seemingly conquered the demons that brought him to that place. Everything in between was and is his life. So it was surprising to read in the postscript that he hadn't had a drink in some twenty-eight years. Maybe it came off as a little self indulgent but even the harshest critic would admit that Elton John of all people deserves to tell his own story as he damn well pleases.
After seeing the movie I'm pleased to say that I don't like him any more or any less than I did before I saw the movie. As biographical flicks of rock stars go this one was maybe even a little predictable. But you're hard pressed to not enjoy those magical moments in the movie when and where the stars align and align they did for Elton John. His collaboration with Bernie Taupin (wrote the lyrics) was one of those magical moments and one without which the world might never have known the genius of Elton John.
I wouldn't say that "Rocketman" was a tour de force but it was a worthwhile show and one that I'm glad we went to see. It was, as they say in the business, worth the price of admission. I wondered after the fact if Elton John had rights of first refusal when it came to selecting the actor who would play him in this movie. Maybe my expectations for the actor playing Elton John were a little too high after watching a recent movie entitled "Queen" where Freddy Mercury was played exquisitely and with great acclaim by Rami Malek. This actor was no Rami Malek.
I also think the music score was incomplete having very few of the more notable songs in Elton John's discography. That was a disappointment. And for god's sake, why did he perform the song "Pinball Wizard" in the movie which is a song written and performed by The Who? I had to look that one up in Wikipedia just to satisfy myself that it was a song not written by Elton John. If the producers and directors had paid half as much attention to the music in the movie as they did the costumes I think they would have been better off.
Maybe a more appropriate title for the movie would have been " The Music Man Behind the Mask."
We decided in retrospect that that was best explained by the fact that Elton John's name appeared in the credits as an executive producer. There is little doubt in my mind that he looks back on much of his life as a tragic figure whose life was transformed by music and his expression of same. There is one scene in the movie, which seemed to be the most touching to me, where he embraces himself as a child signifying an integration of the two spheres of his life which had long ago been fractured, buried, but not entirely forgotten.
Both the positive and negative influences in his life were highlighted and magnified as though in a dream sequence. That is perhaps how everyone in hindsight views the totality of their life's experiences when all is said and done. Scenes from your life flash in and out like a slideshow of emotion and include if one is honest with themselves moments of depravity, acts of desperation, cascading moments of love and loss, pivotal twists and turns, and an enduring rhythm that is inescapably yours and yours alone.
It seemed to me that he barely survived those early years when drugs and alcohol nearly consumed him. He came closer to the brink than I might have imagined. One storyline after another in the movie told the story of that deadly spiraling out of control with schizophrenic scenes from Elton's formative years as a child and in the music industry providing the centrifugal force behind his personal and professional disintegration.
The musical drama started out with his joining a therapy group and ended unsurprisingly with his walking away from that very same group having seemingly conquered the demons that brought him to that place. Everything in between was and is his life. So it was surprising to read in the postscript that he hadn't had a drink in some twenty-eight years. Maybe it came off as a little self indulgent but even the harshest critic would admit that Elton John of all people deserves to tell his own story as he damn well pleases.
After seeing the movie I'm pleased to say that I don't like him any more or any less than I did before I saw the movie. As biographical flicks of rock stars go this one was maybe even a little predictable. But you're hard pressed to not enjoy those magical moments in the movie when and where the stars align and align they did for Elton John. His collaboration with Bernie Taupin (wrote the lyrics) was one of those magical moments and one without which the world might never have known the genius of Elton John.
I wouldn't say that "Rocketman" was a tour de force but it was a worthwhile show and one that I'm glad we went to see. It was, as they say in the business, worth the price of admission. I wondered after the fact if Elton John had rights of first refusal when it came to selecting the actor who would play him in this movie. Maybe my expectations for the actor playing Elton John were a little too high after watching a recent movie entitled "Queen" where Freddy Mercury was played exquisitely and with great acclaim by Rami Malek. This actor was no Rami Malek.
I also think the music score was incomplete having very few of the more notable songs in Elton John's discography. That was a disappointment. And for god's sake, why did he perform the song "Pinball Wizard" in the movie which is a song written and performed by The Who? I had to look that one up in Wikipedia just to satisfy myself that it was a song not written by Elton John. If the producers and directors had paid half as much attention to the music in the movie as they did the costumes I think they would have been better off.
Maybe a more appropriate title for the movie would have been " The Music Man Behind the Mask."
Just Catching Up
09/06/19 17:19
Let's get the party started, kids! It's a sweet June day wth the longest day of the year fast approaching. The weather has been lovely if I had to choose an adjective that would seem to be as right as rain as they say. It's grass growing and grass cutting season round these parts and I've been doing my share of both. I had my doubts when I first cast a handful of seed upon the bare spot in my front yard but have been rewarded for my patience and lawn tending. There is only one problem. It's infinitely more lush and maybe even a different shade of green if I'm honest with myself. No reason not to be so there you have it.
Did I mention that we bought a new grill? We've owned maybe one grill for the better part of 10 plus years and maybe more and it finally rusted out and was no longer of use to anyone. It was old! How old was it, Johnny? It was so old that I can't remember the grill that we owned before it. That's pretty old. And it was one of those camper grills that we thought we might take with us on one of more of our trips to the lake during the summer months. I also can't remember if we ever did that. Maybe once. Not more than once though. I would have remembered that.
So I did my homework and bought a Weber grill. Not one of the big honkers you see that takes up the better part of the back of a pickup truck but rather a smaller two burner version. It was on sale at the local Home Depot and it didn't require assembly (it was already assembled) so I had an attendant grab one end and I grabbed the other and we squeezed it in the back of my vehicle with just enough room to spare.
I'm not a versatile chef when it comes to using the grill but I threw together a few skewers of chicken, red peppers, onion, zucchini, and tomatoes and lathered the lot with a nice low sugar Italian dressing and preheated the grill per the instructions before laying the skewers on the grill.
The first thing I noticed when comparing my old grill to this new one was that the burners were much closer to the grill in my old grill which made it difficult not to burn the food I trying to cook but not burn. And I have to tell you, I love the electric start on this new puppy. I'm not sure I ever read the instructions on my old grill but I took the time to do it with this new one and I learned a trick or two. For one, heat the grill well so it gets nice and hot before you put the food on the grill. That way, it doesn't stick. That works for me.
I think tomorrow I'll tend to the garden. I'd prefer to do that either early on in the day or on a cloudy day just to keep the sun exposure to a minimum. I'm not a garden-to-grill guy so stop looking for that connection right away. If I plant anything in the garden it will likely be two or three tomato plants and maybe an herb or two if Nancy asks nicely. If I wait too much longer I'll not be able to find a tomato plant worth my while so time is of the essence. I also told Nancy that I will likely not put a fence around the garden this year either. No need really since tomato plants are not typically targeted by groundhogs, etc.
Evan should be stopping by today to pick up a pair of headphones he ordered on Amazon. He stayed over earlier in the week since Nancy and he had a scheduled meeting to attend. I was reminded just how much things have changed since he moved out and we were clearly not accustomed to hearing someone in the house overnight so we slept fitfully to say the least. He admitted that even he didn't get to sleep until 4am but it probably had little to do with the fact that his parents were sleeping (or not sleeping) under the same roof.
I had a good mind to make a book recommendation to Nancy's sister but thought better of it since it dealt with the fateful events leading up to September 11th, 2001. She is a traveller who from all accounts seems to do well when it comes to traveling by air so why have her read something that might give her pause when doing something she clearly loves to do.
I suppose she could refuse to read the book so as not to taint any of her otherwise well intended planned or unplanned itineraries. Maybe I'm reading too much into this. And then there was this other book I had in mind. But I thought to myself that just because I liked it doesn't mean anyone else would feel the same so I did not make the recommendation. It was a good read though. I could't put it down. That's when you know it's good.
I was never convinced that Biden would get the nomination to go against Trump in 2020. The democrat party is desperate to find a candidate who can beat Trump and policies be damned. What the hell are they going to run against? A great economy? Unparalleled peace and prosperity? A country that has a strong unapologetic leader at the helm and one that has established America's rightful role on the planet after eight years of the disastrous tenure of one Barack Hussein Obama?
But Sleepy Uncle Joe seems especially sleepy these days and is never far from a gaffe or a distasteful comment about a prepubescent child. And the plagiarizing! In a speech yesterday to some 85 of his fans, he even plagiarized the comment "Make America America again" which was espoused by the failed and soon to be convicted Michael Avenatti, or the creepy porn lawyer as Tucker Carlson likes to call him, and even he lifted it from someone else without attribution.
Bernie the socialist is running a close second now and not because he's doing better. It's because Joe's numbers are falling. That might explain why he's making a speech in Washington today giving his version of what socialism means so that right meaning Americans might embrace it more willingly. And Bernie was doing so well in 2016 until he lost to Hillary Clinton. Bernie's diehard followers never forgave him for that and many of them ended up voting for Trump out of their hatred for Hillary and all things Clinton.
Of the 24 declared candidates in the democrat party there are only three or four now I think that have more than 10% in recent polling. A couple more recent up-and-comers are Butt-Edge-Edge and Pocahontas. These two may be surging at the expense of Bernie and Biden and both would be welcomed with both arms by the Trump camp. I mean, let's face it, Elizabeth Warren is as nutty as the day is long and dare I say, Butt-Edge-Edge is too gay to be president. I don't care what platoon he served in or how many stints he did at Oxford.
I was hoping to grill swordfish and asparagus for dinner last night but, alas, Nancy got home from work too late. She asked if I had noticed if the fish store had any wild caught salmon and I replied that they did not. I don't know that I could tell the difference between wild caught and farm raised either by sight or taste.
The question must be asked with sufficient regularity though since the signs indicating "farm raised" or "wild" are posted clearly for all to see. Having never cooked either fish or asparagus on the grill I grabbed a couple of recipes off the internet and I was, well, loaded for bear. I was ready to surprise, ready to inspire, ready to go if only she had come home sooner.
It's hard to say if I will manage to get a bike ride in this morning before the rain arrives. I welcome the break a rainy day brings if I've had a few rides in days past and today may well be one of those days. I don't try and make up for the time lost nor do I look for alternatives like going to the gym, walking, etc. There is something to be said for giving the body a break, a chance to recuperate and rebuild.
Riding with a renewed sense of vigor is one possible outcome and that can be something to look forward to. Maybe I should look at my calendar to see if I am entitled to a break. My biking days are clearly marked so if my memory fails me, as days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months without much fanfare sometimes, I'll know at a glance if I've accumulated enough riding days to warrant a day off. If not, I'll try to get a ride in before the rain arrives or maybe I'll look at the forecast to see if there is an opportunity to ride after the rain comes and goes. If I get caught in the rain, so be it.
Did I mention that we bought a new grill? We've owned maybe one grill for the better part of 10 plus years and maybe more and it finally rusted out and was no longer of use to anyone. It was old! How old was it, Johnny? It was so old that I can't remember the grill that we owned before it. That's pretty old. And it was one of those camper grills that we thought we might take with us on one of more of our trips to the lake during the summer months. I also can't remember if we ever did that. Maybe once. Not more than once though. I would have remembered that.
So I did my homework and bought a Weber grill. Not one of the big honkers you see that takes up the better part of the back of a pickup truck but rather a smaller two burner version. It was on sale at the local Home Depot and it didn't require assembly (it was already assembled) so I had an attendant grab one end and I grabbed the other and we squeezed it in the back of my vehicle with just enough room to spare.
I'm not a versatile chef when it comes to using the grill but I threw together a few skewers of chicken, red peppers, onion, zucchini, and tomatoes and lathered the lot with a nice low sugar Italian dressing and preheated the grill per the instructions before laying the skewers on the grill.
The first thing I noticed when comparing my old grill to this new one was that the burners were much closer to the grill in my old grill which made it difficult not to burn the food I trying to cook but not burn. And I have to tell you, I love the electric start on this new puppy. I'm not sure I ever read the instructions on my old grill but I took the time to do it with this new one and I learned a trick or two. For one, heat the grill well so it gets nice and hot before you put the food on the grill. That way, it doesn't stick. That works for me.
I think tomorrow I'll tend to the garden. I'd prefer to do that either early on in the day or on a cloudy day just to keep the sun exposure to a minimum. I'm not a garden-to-grill guy so stop looking for that connection right away. If I plant anything in the garden it will likely be two or three tomato plants and maybe an herb or two if Nancy asks nicely. If I wait too much longer I'll not be able to find a tomato plant worth my while so time is of the essence. I also told Nancy that I will likely not put a fence around the garden this year either. No need really since tomato plants are not typically targeted by groundhogs, etc.
Evan should be stopping by today to pick up a pair of headphones he ordered on Amazon. He stayed over earlier in the week since Nancy and he had a scheduled meeting to attend. I was reminded just how much things have changed since he moved out and we were clearly not accustomed to hearing someone in the house overnight so we slept fitfully to say the least. He admitted that even he didn't get to sleep until 4am but it probably had little to do with the fact that his parents were sleeping (or not sleeping) under the same roof.
I had a good mind to make a book recommendation to Nancy's sister but thought better of it since it dealt with the fateful events leading up to September 11th, 2001. She is a traveller who from all accounts seems to do well when it comes to traveling by air so why have her read something that might give her pause when doing something she clearly loves to do.
I suppose she could refuse to read the book so as not to taint any of her otherwise well intended planned or unplanned itineraries. Maybe I'm reading too much into this. And then there was this other book I had in mind. But I thought to myself that just because I liked it doesn't mean anyone else would feel the same so I did not make the recommendation. It was a good read though. I could't put it down. That's when you know it's good.
I was never convinced that Biden would get the nomination to go against Trump in 2020. The democrat party is desperate to find a candidate who can beat Trump and policies be damned. What the hell are they going to run against? A great economy? Unparalleled peace and prosperity? A country that has a strong unapologetic leader at the helm and one that has established America's rightful role on the planet after eight years of the disastrous tenure of one Barack Hussein Obama?
But Sleepy Uncle Joe seems especially sleepy these days and is never far from a gaffe or a distasteful comment about a prepubescent child. And the plagiarizing! In a speech yesterday to some 85 of his fans, he even plagiarized the comment "Make America America again" which was espoused by the failed and soon to be convicted Michael Avenatti, or the creepy porn lawyer as Tucker Carlson likes to call him, and even he lifted it from someone else without attribution.
Bernie the socialist is running a close second now and not because he's doing better. It's because Joe's numbers are falling. That might explain why he's making a speech in Washington today giving his version of what socialism means so that right meaning Americans might embrace it more willingly. And Bernie was doing so well in 2016 until he lost to Hillary Clinton. Bernie's diehard followers never forgave him for that and many of them ended up voting for Trump out of their hatred for Hillary and all things Clinton.
Of the 24 declared candidates in the democrat party there are only three or four now I think that have more than 10% in recent polling. A couple more recent up-and-comers are Butt-Edge-Edge and Pocahontas. These two may be surging at the expense of Bernie and Biden and both would be welcomed with both arms by the Trump camp. I mean, let's face it, Elizabeth Warren is as nutty as the day is long and dare I say, Butt-Edge-Edge is too gay to be president. I don't care what platoon he served in or how many stints he did at Oxford.
I was hoping to grill swordfish and asparagus for dinner last night but, alas, Nancy got home from work too late. She asked if I had noticed if the fish store had any wild caught salmon and I replied that they did not. I don't know that I could tell the difference between wild caught and farm raised either by sight or taste.
The question must be asked with sufficient regularity though since the signs indicating "farm raised" or "wild" are posted clearly for all to see. Having never cooked either fish or asparagus on the grill I grabbed a couple of recipes off the internet and I was, well, loaded for bear. I was ready to surprise, ready to inspire, ready to go if only she had come home sooner.
It's hard to say if I will manage to get a bike ride in this morning before the rain arrives. I welcome the break a rainy day brings if I've had a few rides in days past and today may well be one of those days. I don't try and make up for the time lost nor do I look for alternatives like going to the gym, walking, etc. There is something to be said for giving the body a break, a chance to recuperate and rebuild.
Riding with a renewed sense of vigor is one possible outcome and that can be something to look forward to. Maybe I should look at my calendar to see if I am entitled to a break. My biking days are clearly marked so if my memory fails me, as days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months without much fanfare sometimes, I'll know at a glance if I've accumulated enough riding days to warrant a day off. If not, I'll try to get a ride in before the rain arrives or maybe I'll look at the forecast to see if there is an opportunity to ride after the rain comes and goes. If I get caught in the rain, so be it.
Not in a Million Years
25/04/19 15:36
Joe Biden is finally jumping in the race and will be joining 19 other democrats in the race for the White House in 2020 against Donald J. Trump. This is his third run for the presidency. He has dropped out in the past due to allegations of plagiarizing and other acts of malfeasance that will likely not go without mention either before or during the first round of debates when they roll around in a couple of months time.
While Trump is calling him "Sleepy" Joe I prefer the moniker "Uncle" Joe. Yes, this touchy feely creepy mother can't keep his hands to himself and what you see on the internet, I fear, is just the tip of the iceberg. And then there are the children.
Had I my druthers I would much rather have had a Starbucks this afternoon than the swill I'm sucking down at the moment. It's sort of a pre-season cold brew in a bottle and it's better than nothing. Nancy is off to a meeting down in Massachusetts and my car is sitting down the road at European Auto awaiting a 2020 inspection sticker.
That damn "check engine" light has been a problem for years. I think it came on maybe a month or so after I bought the car in 2012 and has been on ever since. I've been getting a pass by the local mechanic and that's been great. I'm just not sure how long that is going to last (fingers crossed.)
She runs like a top though so I'm hoping her demise is not imminent. Besides, how much trouble can I get into if I'm only driving locally? Not much is the right answer. I think the mechanic might have been looking for some reassurance to that effect when I saw him last year at this time and I responded in the affirmative.
"Yep, just take her back and forth to the recycling center", was my likely response. And looking at the tire tread I thought to myself that it's running a little thin on at least two of the tires and if he gets distracted or needs to feel vindicated about telling me to fix something that is something I can live with. I'll get right on it. Yes siree, Bob.
Nancy had a chance to stop by and chat with Sonja today so that was good. We had just started out on our bike ride and Sonja was out mowing her front lawn so the timing couldn't have been better. We owed Sonja a word of thanks for giving Evan a reference that ultimately proved useful in his acquiring his new apartment.
Our son and her son have always been the best of friends although they have gone their separate ways in recent years for a variety of reasons. I didn't stay for the conversation and just kept riding after satisfying myself that Nancy was indeed stopping to have a word with her. This was a conversation for and between two mothers, mothers of sons.
I'm having a little trouble picking another book to read. When I find one that I like that's a good thing. I never want the book to end and I always have something to look forward to when I'm at a loss for things to do one way or another. Quite honestly, you are never at a loss for things to do when you have a good book that keeps your interest.
Lately, I find myself picking up a book, reading a bit, not feeling the love and having to remind myself that I need to continue reading it if only because I like to finish things that I start. Even if it means that with every passing chapter I'm reminded why I never really took to the book to begin with? I need to be a little more ruthless when it comes to abandoning things that fail to pass muster. if that includes putting down one or more of the classics, then so be it.
We bought Evan a recliner a while ago and that recliner now sits in our living room waiting for the day when he decides that he wants to take it to his new apartment. It was in his room here for the longest time and that was fine. It's hard to know how much he actually used it since the door to his room is usually closed when he is home and in his room.
If I had a good book, I might like to sit in the recliner now that Evan has moved out and I've moved the chair into our living room. Evan had suggested that we do just that some time ago. Maybe just so we could see how it fit in the event we thought we might like to buy one for ourselves? It's hard to know what he was thinking.
Evan seems to have hit a brick wall when it comes to furnishing his new apartment. He has what he has but he needs so much more. While we have offered to help him move along he seems disinclined to accept our help. The chair is just one example of something that ought to be moved over to his new apartment and there are other large ticket items that we could purchase for him but it is not a conversation he's interested in having with us.
I've talked to him countless times about selecting certain items and we could have them delivered and he and I could work to assemble them if necessary. I think our best bet is to take one item at a time starting with what we think might be an appropriate anchor for his living space - a couch.
Maybe the good news is that the space we're talking about is limited and the question becomes not how much we need to buy but rather how exactly do we fit what we need to buy into the space allocated. That may mean at a minimum that he have an entertainment center with a depth no greater than 13 inches.
I have a little laugh to myself every now and then when I consider the fact that his living space ought to be measured in cubic feet rather than square feet. It's one step up from a dorm room. Under the circumstances, baby steps are probably a good thing.
There is probably something to be said for having a small space in which to place all of your earthly possessions. Ostensibly, there are just fewer decisions to make. Tell that to someone who works in the design field and they might tell you that a studio apartment is more difficult to map out than a one or two bedroom unit.
Would I love to hire someone to just go into Evan's place and furnish it with all the flair a dollars worth of interior design could get him? You bet I would. Is that something he would or could tolerate? Not in a million years.
While Trump is calling him "Sleepy" Joe I prefer the moniker "Uncle" Joe. Yes, this touchy feely creepy mother can't keep his hands to himself and what you see on the internet, I fear, is just the tip of the iceberg. And then there are the children.
Had I my druthers I would much rather have had a Starbucks this afternoon than the swill I'm sucking down at the moment. It's sort of a pre-season cold brew in a bottle and it's better than nothing. Nancy is off to a meeting down in Massachusetts and my car is sitting down the road at European Auto awaiting a 2020 inspection sticker.
That damn "check engine" light has been a problem for years. I think it came on maybe a month or so after I bought the car in 2012 and has been on ever since. I've been getting a pass by the local mechanic and that's been great. I'm just not sure how long that is going to last (fingers crossed.)
She runs like a top though so I'm hoping her demise is not imminent. Besides, how much trouble can I get into if I'm only driving locally? Not much is the right answer. I think the mechanic might have been looking for some reassurance to that effect when I saw him last year at this time and I responded in the affirmative.
"Yep, just take her back and forth to the recycling center", was my likely response. And looking at the tire tread I thought to myself that it's running a little thin on at least two of the tires and if he gets distracted or needs to feel vindicated about telling me to fix something that is something I can live with. I'll get right on it. Yes siree, Bob.
Nancy had a chance to stop by and chat with Sonja today so that was good. We had just started out on our bike ride and Sonja was out mowing her front lawn so the timing couldn't have been better. We owed Sonja a word of thanks for giving Evan a reference that ultimately proved useful in his acquiring his new apartment.
Our son and her son have always been the best of friends although they have gone their separate ways in recent years for a variety of reasons. I didn't stay for the conversation and just kept riding after satisfying myself that Nancy was indeed stopping to have a word with her. This was a conversation for and between two mothers, mothers of sons.
I'm having a little trouble picking another book to read. When I find one that I like that's a good thing. I never want the book to end and I always have something to look forward to when I'm at a loss for things to do one way or another. Quite honestly, you are never at a loss for things to do when you have a good book that keeps your interest.
Lately, I find myself picking up a book, reading a bit, not feeling the love and having to remind myself that I need to continue reading it if only because I like to finish things that I start. Even if it means that with every passing chapter I'm reminded why I never really took to the book to begin with? I need to be a little more ruthless when it comes to abandoning things that fail to pass muster. if that includes putting down one or more of the classics, then so be it.
We bought Evan a recliner a while ago and that recliner now sits in our living room waiting for the day when he decides that he wants to take it to his new apartment. It was in his room here for the longest time and that was fine. It's hard to know how much he actually used it since the door to his room is usually closed when he is home and in his room.
If I had a good book, I might like to sit in the recliner now that Evan has moved out and I've moved the chair into our living room. Evan had suggested that we do just that some time ago. Maybe just so we could see how it fit in the event we thought we might like to buy one for ourselves? It's hard to know what he was thinking.
Evan seems to have hit a brick wall when it comes to furnishing his new apartment. He has what he has but he needs so much more. While we have offered to help him move along he seems disinclined to accept our help. The chair is just one example of something that ought to be moved over to his new apartment and there are other large ticket items that we could purchase for him but it is not a conversation he's interested in having with us.
I've talked to him countless times about selecting certain items and we could have them delivered and he and I could work to assemble them if necessary. I think our best bet is to take one item at a time starting with what we think might be an appropriate anchor for his living space - a couch.
Maybe the good news is that the space we're talking about is limited and the question becomes not how much we need to buy but rather how exactly do we fit what we need to buy into the space allocated. That may mean at a minimum that he have an entertainment center with a depth no greater than 13 inches.
I have a little laugh to myself every now and then when I consider the fact that his living space ought to be measured in cubic feet rather than square feet. It's one step up from a dorm room. Under the circumstances, baby steps are probably a good thing.
There is probably something to be said for having a small space in which to place all of your earthly possessions. Ostensibly, there are just fewer decisions to make. Tell that to someone who works in the design field and they might tell you that a studio apartment is more difficult to map out than a one or two bedroom unit.
Would I love to hire someone to just go into Evan's place and furnish it with all the flair a dollars worth of interior design could get him? You bet I would. Is that something he would or could tolerate? Not in a million years.
It Was the Best of Times...
20/04/19 07:30
Yesterday was Nancy's first bike ride of the 2019 season. I debated noting the calendar as I do on my own rides just to keep track of things as I am prone to do but decided against it. I have a good mind to do just that if for no other reason than to be able to tell her come next Spring that she needn't bring her bike in for her free tune-up since she only rode 6 times in 2019. That's an exaggeration but I'll know better when the time comes if I do my duty now and keep track of her every ride.
It was a very blustery ride indeed. Cycling southbound on Ocean Boulevard we ran into severe headwinds which made making any kind of meaningful progress very difficult. In like a lamb, out like a lion? We had modest goals for the ride. We agreed that making it as far as the Beach Club was probably a good start for her since it was her first ride of the season. For me, since I've been on the comeback trail ever since that damn case of bronchitis I had a month or more ago, I thought the Beach Club was an acceptable reach. The good news was that the return ride was likely to be a breeze with a near gale at our backs and it gave us both something to look forward to.
She stopped short of the Beach Club and as I was passing her I yelled out that I planned to stop at the harbor on my way back and that I would meet her there. Knowing what I know about how she loves stopping at the harbor, and I am less likely to do that when I am riding on my own if only because stopping anywhere seems to defeat the purpose of the ride altogether, I made my way to the Beach Club without further delay.
By the time I got to the harbor Nancy was off her bike and getting a bit of a stretch. She said something about her mother's tax returns and something about them getting post marked past the due date. What the hey? How did you come by this information? Your mom is apoplectic? Yes, she entrusted you with the mailing materials and she expected that you would place the materials in the mailbox such that they would be post marked with the appropriate date. In fact, you were involved in every facet of the process this year as you have been in past years so what changed?
I was with Nancy when we put the envelopes in the mailbox at the local post office on the morning of the day they were due. I couldn't help but wonder how and what gave her mother the impression that the materials were received or post marked late. Her mother's e-mail revealed little but one thing was clear. The word "late" was bolded which caused Nancy considerable consternation knowing full well that she had done everything possible to fulfill her mothers wishes. Her competency was now in question and no amount of finger pointing would change that fact.
But the timing was suspicious. Here we were just a handful of days beyond the mailing date and her mother was already in receipt of said payment? "Let's think about this", I said. The only way your mother would be in receipt of anything is if the mailing was on time, promptly processed once it had been received, and now with acknowledgment after the fact in hand the timing makes perfect sense.
It came to light later in the day when her mother called that she was mistaking some coding on the receipt she received as evidence of a late confirmation date when it was not that at all. Persuading her of that fact was not an easy task. Even after she said that she agreed with her daughter, you could still hear hints of a wavering disbelief in her voice. It was not as though she wished to assign blame to her otherwise dutiful daughter yet she was not accepting of the fact that despite their best efforts the mailing was made on time. Somebody had to take responsibility for that abject failure.
Jumping to conclusions has its own perils. If it turns out that the mailing was not late at all then an apology may be in order. How much time has to pass before the threat dissipates and collapses under its own weight? What else has she entrusted her daughter with that she may now have to rethink? Is there a minimum amount of responsibility that she is willing to assign to her daughter without running the risk of telling her outright that she no longer trusts her judgement on larger and more momentous items of personal interest? Can her other children now assume those very same tasks? Weighty decisions all.
We reviewed the materials in question firsthand when we visited her mother last night for our weekly visitation and that only reinforced our original conclusions about said matters. That said, we were looking for clarity in reviewing the codes on the back of a cashed check and that was seemingly a fools errand. There were dates and codes but no decoder ring that would help make sense of it all. All we could do was work backwards from the "cashed" dates. The only conclusion left was that those very same dates would have been unattainable had the mailings arrived late. The defense rests its case.
When all is said and done Nancy might well relish having fewer responsibilities. Taking a few things off her plate might be just what the doctor ordered. It might give her more time to attend to the things she enjoys most. She has already moved on from this event having satisfied herself that her mother's concerns were largely unwarranted. The matter, as far as Nancy is concerned, deserves its rightful place as it were in the rear view mirror. Keep your eyes on the road ahead, little darlin'.
We reviewed the materials in question firsthand when we visited her mother last night for our weekly visitation and that only reinforced our original conclusions about said matters. That said, we were looking for clarity in reviewing the codes on the back of a cashed check and that was seemingly a fools errand. There were dates and codes but no decoder ring that would help make sense of it all. All we could do was work backwards from the "cashed" dates. The only conclusion left was that those very same dates would have been unattainable had the mailings arrived late.
Evan stopped by yesterday. It was good to see him again. He brought his laundry by so his mom could take care of it and we chit chatted about this and that for the better part of an hour or two. He was pleasantly surprised, or so he said, at just how quiet his new place is and we were delighted to hear that. Not that we had a worry in the world about it being a "noisy" place but clearly Evan had some preconceived notions that turned out to be just that. Notions.
One of the reasons we thought he was stopping by was so that he could clean his room up a bit since he left it a bit of a mess when he moved out. He seemed more interested in talking than he did cleaning so that was that. His room isn't going anywhere so there will be plenty of time for him to attend to matters at his leisure. I told him to stay the night if he was so inclined since he was planning to come over on Easter for dinner anyway. He was noncommittal at best and quickly moved on to other subjects.
Nancy prepared one of Evan's favorite dishes for Evan to celebrate Easter at home. Evan brought over the appropriate pots, pans, and utensils, and Nancy labored throughout the day so we could all sit down to a meal that would take less than ten minutes to consume. Making a pot roast, a honey ham, or even a turkey might have been easier than all the work required to make Evan's favorite enchilada dish. Feeding your children is a labor of love so no amount of work could deter Nancy from getting on with the task at hand knowing that her son was looking forward to enjoying one of his favorite dishes.
But some things never change. Evan spent the better part of his time at home in his room with the door closed. The boy loves his quiet time. So much so, in fact, that we were reluctant to make any announcements one way or another about dinner being ready when the time came. We finally decided that all we could do was to finish up with the preparations, put the food on the table, and let him know that it was ready. Just because he's been living on his own for the better part of a month doesn't mean that we can't do as we've always done when it comes to his whimsical behavior.
He was predictably late to the meal that his momma labored long and hard to prepare but had little to say for himself when he finally sat down. "Pass the corn, please", he asked. We sent him home with leftovers that would probably provide him with a good couple of square meals. We're not convinced he's got the chops just yet to make it up as he goes along in his own kitchen so we'll have to think about or plan to supplement whatever he has in mind. Did I mention that planning was not one of his strengths?
We're talking to him now about preparing a Shepards Pie recipe this coming weekend during our visit. There are car transfers to attend to in the coming weeks; meetings with Katie and the crew in the near term that Evan could care less about and is likely to pass on; A trip to Lake George to spend a little time with the sisters and brothers; swaths of dead lawn that need to be reseeded; bike rides along the ocean to suck in more than my share of positive ions; a garage that needs to be partially transformed to free up a space where we can store bikes and the lot during the summer months; and I need to have a conversation with someone about vapor barriers and crawl spaces.
It was a very blustery ride indeed. Cycling southbound on Ocean Boulevard we ran into severe headwinds which made making any kind of meaningful progress very difficult. In like a lamb, out like a lion? We had modest goals for the ride. We agreed that making it as far as the Beach Club was probably a good start for her since it was her first ride of the season. For me, since I've been on the comeback trail ever since that damn case of bronchitis I had a month or more ago, I thought the Beach Club was an acceptable reach. The good news was that the return ride was likely to be a breeze with a near gale at our backs and it gave us both something to look forward to.
She stopped short of the Beach Club and as I was passing her I yelled out that I planned to stop at the harbor on my way back and that I would meet her there. Knowing what I know about how she loves stopping at the harbor, and I am less likely to do that when I am riding on my own if only because stopping anywhere seems to defeat the purpose of the ride altogether, I made my way to the Beach Club without further delay.
By the time I got to the harbor Nancy was off her bike and getting a bit of a stretch. She said something about her mother's tax returns and something about them getting post marked past the due date. What the hey? How did you come by this information? Your mom is apoplectic? Yes, she entrusted you with the mailing materials and she expected that you would place the materials in the mailbox such that they would be post marked with the appropriate date. In fact, you were involved in every facet of the process this year as you have been in past years so what changed?
I was with Nancy when we put the envelopes in the mailbox at the local post office on the morning of the day they were due. I couldn't help but wonder how and what gave her mother the impression that the materials were received or post marked late. Her mother's e-mail revealed little but one thing was clear. The word "late" was bolded which caused Nancy considerable consternation knowing full well that she had done everything possible to fulfill her mothers wishes. Her competency was now in question and no amount of finger pointing would change that fact.
But the timing was suspicious. Here we were just a handful of days beyond the mailing date and her mother was already in receipt of said payment? "Let's think about this", I said. The only way your mother would be in receipt of anything is if the mailing was on time, promptly processed once it had been received, and now with acknowledgment after the fact in hand the timing makes perfect sense.
It came to light later in the day when her mother called that she was mistaking some coding on the receipt she received as evidence of a late confirmation date when it was not that at all. Persuading her of that fact was not an easy task. Even after she said that she agreed with her daughter, you could still hear hints of a wavering disbelief in her voice. It was not as though she wished to assign blame to her otherwise dutiful daughter yet she was not accepting of the fact that despite their best efforts the mailing was made on time. Somebody had to take responsibility for that abject failure.
Jumping to conclusions has its own perils. If it turns out that the mailing was not late at all then an apology may be in order. How much time has to pass before the threat dissipates and collapses under its own weight? What else has she entrusted her daughter with that she may now have to rethink? Is there a minimum amount of responsibility that she is willing to assign to her daughter without running the risk of telling her outright that she no longer trusts her judgement on larger and more momentous items of personal interest? Can her other children now assume those very same tasks? Weighty decisions all.
We reviewed the materials in question firsthand when we visited her mother last night for our weekly visitation and that only reinforced our original conclusions about said matters. That said, we were looking for clarity in reviewing the codes on the back of a cashed check and that was seemingly a fools errand. There were dates and codes but no decoder ring that would help make sense of it all. All we could do was work backwards from the "cashed" dates. The only conclusion left was that those very same dates would have been unattainable had the mailings arrived late. The defense rests its case.
When all is said and done Nancy might well relish having fewer responsibilities. Taking a few things off her plate might be just what the doctor ordered. It might give her more time to attend to the things she enjoys most. She has already moved on from this event having satisfied herself that her mother's concerns were largely unwarranted. The matter, as far as Nancy is concerned, deserves its rightful place as it were in the rear view mirror. Keep your eyes on the road ahead, little darlin'.
We reviewed the materials in question firsthand when we visited her mother last night for our weekly visitation and that only reinforced our original conclusions about said matters. That said, we were looking for clarity in reviewing the codes on the back of a cashed check and that was seemingly a fools errand. There were dates and codes but no decoder ring that would help make sense of it all. All we could do was work backwards from the "cashed" dates. The only conclusion left was that those very same dates would have been unattainable had the mailings arrived late.
Evan stopped by yesterday. It was good to see him again. He brought his laundry by so his mom could take care of it and we chit chatted about this and that for the better part of an hour or two. He was pleasantly surprised, or so he said, at just how quiet his new place is and we were delighted to hear that. Not that we had a worry in the world about it being a "noisy" place but clearly Evan had some preconceived notions that turned out to be just that. Notions.
One of the reasons we thought he was stopping by was so that he could clean his room up a bit since he left it a bit of a mess when he moved out. He seemed more interested in talking than he did cleaning so that was that. His room isn't going anywhere so there will be plenty of time for him to attend to matters at his leisure. I told him to stay the night if he was so inclined since he was planning to come over on Easter for dinner anyway. He was noncommittal at best and quickly moved on to other subjects.
Nancy prepared one of Evan's favorite dishes for Evan to celebrate Easter at home. Evan brought over the appropriate pots, pans, and utensils, and Nancy labored throughout the day so we could all sit down to a meal that would take less than ten minutes to consume. Making a pot roast, a honey ham, or even a turkey might have been easier than all the work required to make Evan's favorite enchilada dish. Feeding your children is a labor of love so no amount of work could deter Nancy from getting on with the task at hand knowing that her son was looking forward to enjoying one of his favorite dishes.
But some things never change. Evan spent the better part of his time at home in his room with the door closed. The boy loves his quiet time. So much so, in fact, that we were reluctant to make any announcements one way or another about dinner being ready when the time came. We finally decided that all we could do was to finish up with the preparations, put the food on the table, and let him know that it was ready. Just because he's been living on his own for the better part of a month doesn't mean that we can't do as we've always done when it comes to his whimsical behavior.
He was predictably late to the meal that his momma labored long and hard to prepare but had little to say for himself when he finally sat down. "Pass the corn, please", he asked. We sent him home with leftovers that would probably provide him with a good couple of square meals. We're not convinced he's got the chops just yet to make it up as he goes along in his own kitchen so we'll have to think about or plan to supplement whatever he has in mind. Did I mention that planning was not one of his strengths?
We're talking to him now about preparing a Shepards Pie recipe this coming weekend during our visit. There are car transfers to attend to in the coming weeks; meetings with Katie and the crew in the near term that Evan could care less about and is likely to pass on; A trip to Lake George to spend a little time with the sisters and brothers; swaths of dead lawn that need to be reseeded; bike rides along the ocean to suck in more than my share of positive ions; a garage that needs to be partially transformed to free up a space where we can store bikes and the lot during the summer months; and I need to have a conversation with someone about vapor barriers and crawl spaces.
Table For Two
14/04/19 07:25
This shopping for furniture business is interesting. We saw a kitchen table that Evan took a shine to while shopping at Bob's Furniture in Seabrook. It was the right size, the right height, the right look and feel. Until, of course, it wasn't. We then visited Abode in Portsmouth where we saw another table that we thought might suit both Evan and his new apartment even better.
There was only one problem. We couldn't convince Evan to go look at it. We've learned to work around these little peculiarities of his and now we more or less take them in stride.
This table that we really liked was a high top sort of table if you know what I mean. For a fella Evan's size, I really thought it would be a more comfortable table for him to have longer term. The extended leg room alone was enough to have him take a second look.
I took a few pictures and we sent them along to Evan so he could say either yeah or neigh. Then I sent him a picture of himself sitting at the old table that we looked at in Bob's where he looked oversized and maybe a little uncomfortable compared to his mom who sat in the chair opposite him.
I also thought the taller table would provide a better visual delineation of sorts between the dining area of his small apartment and the living area. A smaller table, visually at least, would not provide that break and might even give the impression to a first time visitor of an overly cluttered collection of furniture looking more like a storage unit than an apartment.
Once Evan decided that the taller table was the better choice, and knowing full well he had no intention of going to see the table before purchasing it, we inquired about return policies in the event he really didn't like it once we got it into the apartment.
We talked several times about how we were going to arrange to return to Bob's and buy the first table that Evan liked so ultimately it was good that we followed through on none of those plans. The baby Jesus works in mysterious ways. Now that we knew what table we wanted, and having sorted out the fine print on the store's return policy, we were ready to make the purchase. Not so fast. Abode would not sell the table without the four chairs. "But we don't need four chairs", we said. So that was that.
Being the resourceful types that we are, we decided to make a trip to the furniture outlet in Massachusetts that manufactured this particular table that we were interested in. They had the same table at a lower price and were willing to sell us as many or as few chairs as our little hearts desired. They discouraged returns but that didn't deter us from making the purchase. We decided that if Evan really didn't like it that Nancy could use the darn thing to do her crossword puzzles on.
I don't know that Nancy thought that the decision to buy this table was impulsive on my part but I would be lying to you if I didn't mention that she was concerned about it not being a good or right choice. She was reasonably apprehensive and, as usual, a vocal and often necessary bulwark to my bullishness when it comes to making decisions. We clearly had two different visions for what might and might not work in that space. I just thought my vision was the clearer of the two. There, I said it.
We arrived at the appointed hour and gave Evan a call so he could come down to help carry the box upstairs. We assembled the various pieces and placed the table and chairs against the wall where we thought it might work best. I think Evan was very pleased with this new addition to his apartment. By the time we had left we had moved the table over into the main living space and taken the television off the floor and placed it up on the table.
It had more to do with trying to get a sense of where the television might end up height-wise than it did with trying to find alternate uses for his new kitchen table. If I had my druthers, I would have him look at entertainment centers on Amazon and we could go from there. And, we had such luck with the bed frame that we purchased on Amazon.
So my question to Evan once all was said and done was, what's next? He said that he wanted to wait a while and give it all a little bit of time to settle out before making a decision on couches, entertainment centers, etc. . I'm paraphrasing, of course.
Man, I am in a mood this morning. I've been writing today's blog while listing to Stevie Ray Vaughn. Talk about putting a little juice in your morning routine. James Taylor is more my speed in the early morning hours before the caffeine kicks in but after that all bets are off. Stevie's riffs are killing me! Hand me that damn air guitar, woman! Nine O'Clock will be rolling around soon and it will be time to tune into my political shows. It only gets better from here.
There was only one problem. We couldn't convince Evan to go look at it. We've learned to work around these little peculiarities of his and now we more or less take them in stride.
This table that we really liked was a high top sort of table if you know what I mean. For a fella Evan's size, I really thought it would be a more comfortable table for him to have longer term. The extended leg room alone was enough to have him take a second look.
I took a few pictures and we sent them along to Evan so he could say either yeah or neigh. Then I sent him a picture of himself sitting at the old table that we looked at in Bob's where he looked oversized and maybe a little uncomfortable compared to his mom who sat in the chair opposite him.
I also thought the taller table would provide a better visual delineation of sorts between the dining area of his small apartment and the living area. A smaller table, visually at least, would not provide that break and might even give the impression to a first time visitor of an overly cluttered collection of furniture looking more like a storage unit than an apartment.
Once Evan decided that the taller table was the better choice, and knowing full well he had no intention of going to see the table before purchasing it, we inquired about return policies in the event he really didn't like it once we got it into the apartment.
We talked several times about how we were going to arrange to return to Bob's and buy the first table that Evan liked so ultimately it was good that we followed through on none of those plans. The baby Jesus works in mysterious ways. Now that we knew what table we wanted, and having sorted out the fine print on the store's return policy, we were ready to make the purchase. Not so fast. Abode would not sell the table without the four chairs. "But we don't need four chairs", we said. So that was that.
Being the resourceful types that we are, we decided to make a trip to the furniture outlet in Massachusetts that manufactured this particular table that we were interested in. They had the same table at a lower price and were willing to sell us as many or as few chairs as our little hearts desired. They discouraged returns but that didn't deter us from making the purchase. We decided that if Evan really didn't like it that Nancy could use the darn thing to do her crossword puzzles on.
I don't know that Nancy thought that the decision to buy this table was impulsive on my part but I would be lying to you if I didn't mention that she was concerned about it not being a good or right choice. She was reasonably apprehensive and, as usual, a vocal and often necessary bulwark to my bullishness when it comes to making decisions. We clearly had two different visions for what might and might not work in that space. I just thought my vision was the clearer of the two. There, I said it.
We arrived at the appointed hour and gave Evan a call so he could come down to help carry the box upstairs. We assembled the various pieces and placed the table and chairs against the wall where we thought it might work best. I think Evan was very pleased with this new addition to his apartment. By the time we had left we had moved the table over into the main living space and taken the television off the floor and placed it up on the table.
It had more to do with trying to get a sense of where the television might end up height-wise than it did with trying to find alternate uses for his new kitchen table. If I had my druthers, I would have him look at entertainment centers on Amazon and we could go from there. And, we had such luck with the bed frame that we purchased on Amazon.
So my question to Evan once all was said and done was, what's next? He said that he wanted to wait a while and give it all a little bit of time to settle out before making a decision on couches, entertainment centers, etc. . I'm paraphrasing, of course.
Man, I am in a mood this morning. I've been writing today's blog while listing to Stevie Ray Vaughn. Talk about putting a little juice in your morning routine. James Taylor is more my speed in the early morning hours before the caffeine kicks in but after that all bets are off. Stevie's riffs are killing me! Hand me that damn air guitar, woman! Nine O'Clock will be rolling around soon and it will be time to tune into my political shows. It only gets better from here.
All Hands On Deck
12/04/19 06:41
Things are moving along at Ev's new place. They delivered his mattress yesterday and despite a few kinks in the delivery process they hauled the mattress up to his place and we signed off on the delivery. He still needs a lot of things, furniture mostly, but we can take care of that in good time.
Now that he has a bed he can at least sleep there and that is precisely what he did last evening. It was weird (in a good way) not having him sleep at home. After we got the bedding thing squared away, we enjoyed a celebratory lunch at Lexie's where I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a chocolate milk shake while Nancy and Evan had burgers. It's important to note here that not all burgers are beef.
Service seemed slower than we had remembered from our previous visit when it was much busier. It's not supposed to work that way, is it?
Evan had a bit of angst about the whole mattress delivery thing and while he was not articulating that exactly it played out in such a way that he ultimately preferred that we have a hand in the process. It all worked out and the only problem after the fact was that the mattress cover that Nancy had previously purchased was maybe a little too big? How does that happen? A queen is a queen? Is it not? I wondered too about the blanket that Evan decided to bring over to his new place.
It was more of a throw and didn't even come close to covering the expanse of his new queen sized mattress. He did have a queen sized cover sheet so that, in addition to the blanket, would probably be fine. The good news was that his new place has terrific temperature controls so he'll not lose sleep for lack of a proper cover. My parting advice to him was to open the windows from time to time and enjoy the nice cross breezes. He hiked the window a bit and put his hand against the open window and a smile crossed his face.
We got rid of all the empty boxes in his apartment and that seemed to make the place seem "spacious" once again. It is not an overly spacious apartment to begin with so staying organized will be important. Knowing what we know about how he keeps his room clean or not here at home I would say he has his work cut out for him. Nancy helped him empty the dishwasher and the two of them put away groceries that we had purchased at the local grocery store.
If I had to guess I would have said that Evan might have preferred living somewhere where there was less activity during the daylight hours. Why are all these people milling about? Some seemed older and were likely well retired but others looked like they should be working a daytime job or something. Evan seems disinclined to engage them one way or another so I expect he'll be keeping to himself as best he can. Sadly, he will not be the guy whose door you knock on looking for a cup of sugar in a pinch.
At one point when we were half in and half out of the 4th floor elevator with plans to take it down to the first floor we heard a woman approaching. She raised her voice ever so slightly asking. pleading, that we hold the door for her. I was carrying cardboard boxes and Evan was looking disinterested in having anyone else come aboard so we punched the "down" button and hoped against hope that her hand would not slip through the elevator door opening at the last minute.
It didn't and down we went. It was probably a good thing that we never actually laid eyes on her. Or, her eyes on us for that matter.
I try to set a good example when and where I can and that was not one of my finer moments. We should have made room for her and I don't think we had a good reason not to. The relief that Evan was feeling was palpable and I think I caught a mischevious look in his eye as we exchanged glances while descending to the ground floor. Or maybe it was just a look of relief that I mistook for something else. He has the option of taking the stairs but has seemed disinclined to do so so I'm guessing he'll take his chances in the elevator for better or worse.
Nancy bought Evan one of those 'My Pillows" as a house warming gift and something he definitely needed to go along with his new queen sized bed. It struck me as a bit lumpy but I kept my mouth shut. If he thought it was too lumpy he didn't say as much. That's our boy.
Did I mention that we bought his bed frame on Amazon? I only went to Amazon after looking around in various stores and not seeing anything that I thought might work when it came to style, size, and price. Once we had it all unpacked and laid out on the floor in order to assemble it we marveled at the solid construction and contemporary look. Evan and I worked hand in hand to follow the instructions until all the pieces were assembled and secured tightly with the allen wrench included with the materials.
I told Nancy after the fact that putting the frame together with Evan felt oddly synchronous. I don't have a lot of personal experience putting things together with Evan but with the right task you realize that there is more at play than just a set of instructions, the right tools, and the willpower to get the job done.
The job was made that much easier because Evan intuitively knew how, what, and when I was going to do what I was doing and the same was true for me. I wouldn't have guessed everything would fall into place as it did nor would I have guessed that we would get the job done as quickly as it got done.
Deciphering the instructions was occasionally a two-man job although the illustrations appeared straightforward on paper. When and where we agreed on the path forward we followed through and where we didn't we hesitated until we agreed on the next steps.
I don't think I have enough appreciation for the things he is capable of doing when he sets his mind to it. I don't think he'll ever build rocket ships like Elon Musk but then again I'm not sure I'd want to bet against him if that is what he decided he wanted to do.
It's true as well that he is more often than not too impatient to listen to me when I tell him things that I want him to remember. Maybe he's paying attention but he's not wanting to give me the satisfaction of knowing that he's listening to me. I'll let you know when I figure it all out if I live that long. Does anyone live that long?
Now that he has a bed he can at least sleep there and that is precisely what he did last evening. It was weird (in a good way) not having him sleep at home. After we got the bedding thing squared away, we enjoyed a celebratory lunch at Lexie's where I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a chocolate milk shake while Nancy and Evan had burgers. It's important to note here that not all burgers are beef.
Service seemed slower than we had remembered from our previous visit when it was much busier. It's not supposed to work that way, is it?
Evan had a bit of angst about the whole mattress delivery thing and while he was not articulating that exactly it played out in such a way that he ultimately preferred that we have a hand in the process. It all worked out and the only problem after the fact was that the mattress cover that Nancy had previously purchased was maybe a little too big? How does that happen? A queen is a queen? Is it not? I wondered too about the blanket that Evan decided to bring over to his new place.
It was more of a throw and didn't even come close to covering the expanse of his new queen sized mattress. He did have a queen sized cover sheet so that, in addition to the blanket, would probably be fine. The good news was that his new place has terrific temperature controls so he'll not lose sleep for lack of a proper cover. My parting advice to him was to open the windows from time to time and enjoy the nice cross breezes. He hiked the window a bit and put his hand against the open window and a smile crossed his face.
We got rid of all the empty boxes in his apartment and that seemed to make the place seem "spacious" once again. It is not an overly spacious apartment to begin with so staying organized will be important. Knowing what we know about how he keeps his room clean or not here at home I would say he has his work cut out for him. Nancy helped him empty the dishwasher and the two of them put away groceries that we had purchased at the local grocery store.
If I had to guess I would have said that Evan might have preferred living somewhere where there was less activity during the daylight hours. Why are all these people milling about? Some seemed older and were likely well retired but others looked like they should be working a daytime job or something. Evan seems disinclined to engage them one way or another so I expect he'll be keeping to himself as best he can. Sadly, he will not be the guy whose door you knock on looking for a cup of sugar in a pinch.
At one point when we were half in and half out of the 4th floor elevator with plans to take it down to the first floor we heard a woman approaching. She raised her voice ever so slightly asking. pleading, that we hold the door for her. I was carrying cardboard boxes and Evan was looking disinterested in having anyone else come aboard so we punched the "down" button and hoped against hope that her hand would not slip through the elevator door opening at the last minute.
It didn't and down we went. It was probably a good thing that we never actually laid eyes on her. Or, her eyes on us for that matter.
I try to set a good example when and where I can and that was not one of my finer moments. We should have made room for her and I don't think we had a good reason not to. The relief that Evan was feeling was palpable and I think I caught a mischevious look in his eye as we exchanged glances while descending to the ground floor. Or maybe it was just a look of relief that I mistook for something else. He has the option of taking the stairs but has seemed disinclined to do so so I'm guessing he'll take his chances in the elevator for better or worse.
Nancy bought Evan one of those 'My Pillows" as a house warming gift and something he definitely needed to go along with his new queen sized bed. It struck me as a bit lumpy but I kept my mouth shut. If he thought it was too lumpy he didn't say as much. That's our boy.
Did I mention that we bought his bed frame on Amazon? I only went to Amazon after looking around in various stores and not seeing anything that I thought might work when it came to style, size, and price. Once we had it all unpacked and laid out on the floor in order to assemble it we marveled at the solid construction and contemporary look. Evan and I worked hand in hand to follow the instructions until all the pieces were assembled and secured tightly with the allen wrench included with the materials.
I told Nancy after the fact that putting the frame together with Evan felt oddly synchronous. I don't have a lot of personal experience putting things together with Evan but with the right task you realize that there is more at play than just a set of instructions, the right tools, and the willpower to get the job done.
The job was made that much easier because Evan intuitively knew how, what, and when I was going to do what I was doing and the same was true for me. I wouldn't have guessed everything would fall into place as it did nor would I have guessed that we would get the job done as quickly as it got done.
Deciphering the instructions was occasionally a two-man job although the illustrations appeared straightforward on paper. When and where we agreed on the path forward we followed through and where we didn't we hesitated until we agreed on the next steps.
I don't think I have enough appreciation for the things he is capable of doing when he sets his mind to it. I don't think he'll ever build rocket ships like Elon Musk but then again I'm not sure I'd want to bet against him if that is what he decided he wanted to do.
It's true as well that he is more often than not too impatient to listen to me when I tell him things that I want him to remember. Maybe he's paying attention but he's not wanting to give me the satisfaction of knowing that he's listening to me. I'll let you know when I figure it all out if I live that long. Does anyone live that long?
Brick and Mortar Blues
09/04/19 07:06
Evan and I popped up to the mall yesterday on a rainy early afternoon to get him a takeout order from Buffalo Wild Wings. I wanted to stop into Best Buy while there to take a look at modems. I need an upgrade in order to take advantage of my upgraded service from Xfinity. I'm not a big comparison shopper but it makes sense to do just that when shopping for electronics that can also be found online and usually for less.
I compared prices by checking Amazon on my iPhone since they usually have the most competitive prices of any online retailer. It's as much about the reviews sometimes as it is about the price. And, if I can get a 20% discount by ordering the same item from Amazon then it makes sense to do just that. I wondered to myself as I whipped out my phone at Best Buy to see the prices and reviews as to whether or not an employee or two may have seen me looking at my phone and may have even thought to themselves that they were about to lose a sale.
They probably see that dozens of times a day and it has to be a little concerning when they see customer after customer turning around and walking out the door after going online with their phones but without making an in-store purchase. The last time I asked a retailer like Best Buy if they would be willing to match an online price they responded by giving me a somewhat confusing answer about not being able to compete with Amazon's Prime service. So, is it the Prime piece or, more generally, just Amazon?
It's not hard not to be loyal to these national big box stores although there is something to be said for being able to frequent a brick and mortar establishment. Maybe I'm old fashioned but I like to see, touch, and feel the merchandise I'm about to buy. Don't think for a moment that this is an aspect of the overall experience that is lost on retailers. It is not. And quite frankly, I would miss going to the stores were they all to disappear tomorrow. Whether or not malls themselves are destined for the dustbin of history is and should be up for debate.
So, now I wait. I can track my package but I know it's on the way and I trust Amazon to get it here as promised. I trust them because they've never let me down. They've never lost a package, they've always delivered on or before the promised due date, they make returning unwanted items easy peasy, and they are in a word, reliable.
Did I mention that they promised delivery in two days? It's no wonder, is it, that Jeff Bezos (Amazon) has become the richest man in the world. He built a better mousetrap and the world beat a path to his door. Who cares if he sends his girlfriend pictures of his Johnson? And what does that have to do with the price of rice in China? Not a fucking thing.
I'm glad that we had other business at the mall because had I only gone to Best Buy I would have had to factor in the cost of my time, gas, etc in making a buy-don't buy decision. I didn't say this to Evan but had I my druthers he wouldn't have ordered fried food for lunch. He eats far too much fried food and I cringe inside when I see him doing that. Why can't he make a sandwich for lunch like everyone else? If I thought he would eat it I would offer to make it for him.
I shouldn't say that. He has plenty of sandwiches although most are tuna and eating tuna all the time is not a good thing. Surely, you've heard all the stories about mercury in seafood. He does like an occasional caesar salad with chicken which is good. I could have picked up one of those up at Trader Joe's in the mall but I wasn't thinking. I was far too focused on something else and I lost sight of what might have worked better for him. I need to keep my head on straight when we're out and about.
I'm keeping after Evan, even now, as he plans to move into his own place this coming Thursday that he needs to make a list. If he's going to go food shopping then he should have a list. I just don't think he will do that and it will be to his detriment. I can stand there and talk to him about the things that I think he'll need until I'm blue in the face but he's going to do what he's going to do. And sometimes that is just nothing.
But here we are a day later and the sun is shining as I sit here at the computer at 8:53 am. The last two days have been miserably damp and cold for this time of the year. It's not going to be warm by any stretch but I promised myself to get on my bike and work off a bit of the rust I've been accumulating. Too many whoopee pies and not enough exercise. That is a recipe for disaster. We're heading over to the eagles nest later today to set up Evan's bed frame and he'll be heading out from there to do a little food shopping with Katie. She'll see to it that he gets what he needs.
We're of the mind that when Evan goes over to his new place that Nancy and I can get back on track with a lot of things we've maybe ignored or put off while concentrating on getting him squared away. That's a reasonable thought process and one I can see succeeding without too much effort.
It means eating better, getting more exercise, etc.. and not fretting or worrying as we always do whether or not what we're doing on any given day is inclusive or exclusive of our son's needs. I might even admit that it's liberating just thinking of the changes that are about to come our way. It isn't something I take particular pleasure in but as afterthoughts go it's entertaining at a minimum. That doesn't mean we'll stop worrying about him. We'll go to our graves doing that. Hopefully, later rather than sooner.
I compared prices by checking Amazon on my iPhone since they usually have the most competitive prices of any online retailer. It's as much about the reviews sometimes as it is about the price. And, if I can get a 20% discount by ordering the same item from Amazon then it makes sense to do just that. I wondered to myself as I whipped out my phone at Best Buy to see the prices and reviews as to whether or not an employee or two may have seen me looking at my phone and may have even thought to themselves that they were about to lose a sale.
They probably see that dozens of times a day and it has to be a little concerning when they see customer after customer turning around and walking out the door after going online with their phones but without making an in-store purchase. The last time I asked a retailer like Best Buy if they would be willing to match an online price they responded by giving me a somewhat confusing answer about not being able to compete with Amazon's Prime service. So, is it the Prime piece or, more generally, just Amazon?
It's not hard not to be loyal to these national big box stores although there is something to be said for being able to frequent a brick and mortar establishment. Maybe I'm old fashioned but I like to see, touch, and feel the merchandise I'm about to buy. Don't think for a moment that this is an aspect of the overall experience that is lost on retailers. It is not. And quite frankly, I would miss going to the stores were they all to disappear tomorrow. Whether or not malls themselves are destined for the dustbin of history is and should be up for debate.
So, now I wait. I can track my package but I know it's on the way and I trust Amazon to get it here as promised. I trust them because they've never let me down. They've never lost a package, they've always delivered on or before the promised due date, they make returning unwanted items easy peasy, and they are in a word, reliable.
Did I mention that they promised delivery in two days? It's no wonder, is it, that Jeff Bezos (Amazon) has become the richest man in the world. He built a better mousetrap and the world beat a path to his door. Who cares if he sends his girlfriend pictures of his Johnson? And what does that have to do with the price of rice in China? Not a fucking thing.
I'm glad that we had other business at the mall because had I only gone to Best Buy I would have had to factor in the cost of my time, gas, etc in making a buy-don't buy decision. I didn't say this to Evan but had I my druthers he wouldn't have ordered fried food for lunch. He eats far too much fried food and I cringe inside when I see him doing that. Why can't he make a sandwich for lunch like everyone else? If I thought he would eat it I would offer to make it for him.
I shouldn't say that. He has plenty of sandwiches although most are tuna and eating tuna all the time is not a good thing. Surely, you've heard all the stories about mercury in seafood. He does like an occasional caesar salad with chicken which is good. I could have picked up one of those up at Trader Joe's in the mall but I wasn't thinking. I was far too focused on something else and I lost sight of what might have worked better for him. I need to keep my head on straight when we're out and about.
I'm keeping after Evan, even now, as he plans to move into his own place this coming Thursday that he needs to make a list. If he's going to go food shopping then he should have a list. I just don't think he will do that and it will be to his detriment. I can stand there and talk to him about the things that I think he'll need until I'm blue in the face but he's going to do what he's going to do. And sometimes that is just nothing.
But here we are a day later and the sun is shining as I sit here at the computer at 8:53 am. The last two days have been miserably damp and cold for this time of the year. It's not going to be warm by any stretch but I promised myself to get on my bike and work off a bit of the rust I've been accumulating. Too many whoopee pies and not enough exercise. That is a recipe for disaster. We're heading over to the eagles nest later today to set up Evan's bed frame and he'll be heading out from there to do a little food shopping with Katie. She'll see to it that he gets what he needs.
We're of the mind that when Evan goes over to his new place that Nancy and I can get back on track with a lot of things we've maybe ignored or put off while concentrating on getting him squared away. That's a reasonable thought process and one I can see succeeding without too much effort.
It means eating better, getting more exercise, etc.. and not fretting or worrying as we always do whether or not what we're doing on any given day is inclusive or exclusive of our son's needs. I might even admit that it's liberating just thinking of the changes that are about to come our way. It isn't something I take particular pleasure in but as afterthoughts go it's entertaining at a minimum. That doesn't mean we'll stop worrying about him. We'll go to our graves doing that. Hopefully, later rather than sooner.
The More The Merrier
07/04/19 17:30
It's good to get my bike back from the shop. It was gone longer than I expected and I didn't care at all for using my back-up bike. I'm at a loss to remember what I liked about that bike when I first purchased it but there you have it. Everything on the bike works fine but the fit is awkward at best. Not to worry though. I'm back in the saddle with the bike that I like the best. So much so, in fact, that I would consider buying the same kind of bike when the day comes where I have to replace it.
On top of it all, I never paid a dime for this bike. It was one of many gifts available for award winners at my place of employ back in the day. And you know what? She doesn't owe me a dime after all these years. Not a bloody dime.
Evan and Nancy have been enjoying the March Madness basketball stuff as of late. I can hear them hooting and hollering all through the house. Nancy suggested that I come join them since Evan will be moving out soon and opportunities to spend time with my son will be fewer and far between.
You couldn't pay me to sit in front of a television set to watch that stuff so I passed with a "no thanks." It was enough for me to know that the two of them were having fun. Besides, if that is how they wish to pass the time on a sunny Spring afternoon then who am I to rain on their parade.
That is not to say that my choice of activities to pass the time was any better or more noteworthy. I was watching a movie on Netflix that I thought was going to be good but it turned out to be pretty lousy. After all was said and done all I could think of was what a colossal waste of time it was to have watched the movie for the better part of two hours. You can never get that time back!
Every time I thought it was going to get more interesting, it just became more predictable. It never occurred to me to just turn the damn thing off but I would have been so much better off in the long run. I surely wouldn't be sitting here today lamenting the time I spent watching the show.
And no, I am not going to mention the name of the movie. What's good for the goose is not always good for the gander. Someone else might like it and that's fine. Some people like chocolate and some people like vanilla and that's fine too.
When I was working with Evan and the fella from Xfinity over at his place last week, the technician gave me a few tips in order to get more bang for my buck from Xfinity. Apparently, I've been stumbling along with 60 MBPS download speeds and not knowing any different. If it works, I usually don't pay much attention to things. And it's been working fine.
What did get my attention, however, was the fact that I wasn't getting enough value for the money I'm paying each month. In other words, I was getting robbed. Nobody likes to get their pockets picked and when you discover that your wallet is gone it's time to get involved. You mean to tell me that I can get high definition for the price I'm currently paying for standard definition?
What do you mean I can get twice the number of channels? Can you repeat what you just told me about internet download speeds going from 60 MBPS to 250 MBPS? And all of this for a little less than what I'm currently paying?
I wish we had had this discussion years ago. Right? Did I mention that I will also be getting free DVR services and Unlimited Calling? We'll see if any of this makes much of a difference when it comes to how much of any of it we actually consume. We're not big TV watchers although some of the Netflix and Amazon Prime stuff is interesting. We shouldn't see any difference there since that worked fine with my current internet download speeds at 60 MBPS.
More channels would be nice to have now that we're getting into the 2020 presidential election season. Seeing the dems lose in high definition is going to be priceless. And who doesn't like watching Melanie in high definition? What the hey? I might even start watching baseball (like watching paint dry.)
The tech guy wanted to make sure that I made my pitch for getting more value from my provider by utilizing the chat feature on my browser. So, that is what I did. The Xfinity person and I went back and forth countless times and in countless ways looking to eke out every last discount available to me as an end user. I don't think he or she (it was a unisex name) gave up much in the process but I ended up getting more for my money so I'm pleased I took the tech's advice.
There was a time when 60 MBPS was the standard but those days have come and gone. If I get a snappier browser out of all of this then that will be a good thing too. Who doesn't like a snappy browser? I debated telling Evan that I had renegotiated my download speeds from 60 MBPS to 250 MBPS since he signed up for the 100 MBPS plan. His place is smaller and we planned his getting what he needs so he should be happy with that. Maybe I shouldn't have told him after all.
I suppose I ought to give a little thought now to getting a 4K TV or monitor. Where does this all end? At what point will I not be able to distinguish between faster download speeds and more pixels on this that and the other screens in my household? The good news is that I have the option of reverting to slower this or slower that at the end of 24 months. If there is a better deal to be had where I get even faster speeds for less or the same money then maybe I can sign up for that service.
Speaking of non sequiturs, I couldn't remember what store I had bought the egg rolls in so Evan went without egg rolls today. I can see in my minds eye reaching down into the section of the refrigerator in the store and pulling them out and thinking that they might be pretty good in a pinch. Little did I know Evan was such an egg roll hound. If I had known that I would have bought two containers. I don't think I had even had one of them now that I think of it. I prefer mine with mustard sauce and I might have liked to have one but I wasn't quick enough on the draw and then the opportunity was gone. Poof!
On top of it all, I never paid a dime for this bike. It was one of many gifts available for award winners at my place of employ back in the day. And you know what? She doesn't owe me a dime after all these years. Not a bloody dime.
Evan and Nancy have been enjoying the March Madness basketball stuff as of late. I can hear them hooting and hollering all through the house. Nancy suggested that I come join them since Evan will be moving out soon and opportunities to spend time with my son will be fewer and far between.
You couldn't pay me to sit in front of a television set to watch that stuff so I passed with a "no thanks." It was enough for me to know that the two of them were having fun. Besides, if that is how they wish to pass the time on a sunny Spring afternoon then who am I to rain on their parade.
That is not to say that my choice of activities to pass the time was any better or more noteworthy. I was watching a movie on Netflix that I thought was going to be good but it turned out to be pretty lousy. After all was said and done all I could think of was what a colossal waste of time it was to have watched the movie for the better part of two hours. You can never get that time back!
Every time I thought it was going to get more interesting, it just became more predictable. It never occurred to me to just turn the damn thing off but I would have been so much better off in the long run. I surely wouldn't be sitting here today lamenting the time I spent watching the show.
And no, I am not going to mention the name of the movie. What's good for the goose is not always good for the gander. Someone else might like it and that's fine. Some people like chocolate and some people like vanilla and that's fine too.
When I was working with Evan and the fella from Xfinity over at his place last week, the technician gave me a few tips in order to get more bang for my buck from Xfinity. Apparently, I've been stumbling along with 60 MBPS download speeds and not knowing any different. If it works, I usually don't pay much attention to things. And it's been working fine.
What did get my attention, however, was the fact that I wasn't getting enough value for the money I'm paying each month. In other words, I was getting robbed. Nobody likes to get their pockets picked and when you discover that your wallet is gone it's time to get involved. You mean to tell me that I can get high definition for the price I'm currently paying for standard definition?
What do you mean I can get twice the number of channels? Can you repeat what you just told me about internet download speeds going from 60 MBPS to 250 MBPS? And all of this for a little less than what I'm currently paying?
I wish we had had this discussion years ago. Right? Did I mention that I will also be getting free DVR services and Unlimited Calling? We'll see if any of this makes much of a difference when it comes to how much of any of it we actually consume. We're not big TV watchers although some of the Netflix and Amazon Prime stuff is interesting. We shouldn't see any difference there since that worked fine with my current internet download speeds at 60 MBPS.
More channels would be nice to have now that we're getting into the 2020 presidential election season. Seeing the dems lose in high definition is going to be priceless. And who doesn't like watching Melanie in high definition? What the hey? I might even start watching baseball (like watching paint dry.)
The tech guy wanted to make sure that I made my pitch for getting more value from my provider by utilizing the chat feature on my browser. So, that is what I did. The Xfinity person and I went back and forth countless times and in countless ways looking to eke out every last discount available to me as an end user. I don't think he or she (it was a unisex name) gave up much in the process but I ended up getting more for my money so I'm pleased I took the tech's advice.
There was a time when 60 MBPS was the standard but those days have come and gone. If I get a snappier browser out of all of this then that will be a good thing too. Who doesn't like a snappy browser? I debated telling Evan that I had renegotiated my download speeds from 60 MBPS to 250 MBPS since he signed up for the 100 MBPS plan. His place is smaller and we planned his getting what he needs so he should be happy with that. Maybe I shouldn't have told him after all.
I suppose I ought to give a little thought now to getting a 4K TV or monitor. Where does this all end? At what point will I not be able to distinguish between faster download speeds and more pixels on this that and the other screens in my household? The good news is that I have the option of reverting to slower this or slower that at the end of 24 months. If there is a better deal to be had where I get even faster speeds for less or the same money then maybe I can sign up for that service.
Speaking of non sequiturs, I couldn't remember what store I had bought the egg rolls in so Evan went without egg rolls today. I can see in my minds eye reaching down into the section of the refrigerator in the store and pulling them out and thinking that they might be pretty good in a pinch. Little did I know Evan was such an egg roll hound. If I had known that I would have bought two containers. I don't think I had even had one of them now that I think of it. I prefer mine with mustard sauce and I might have liked to have one but I wasn't quick enough on the draw and then the opportunity was gone. Poof!
Ramblin' Man
03/04/19 18:26
There is something particularly queer going on with Joe Biden. The pictures floating around on the internet, in their totality, paint a very bizarre and sick picture of the man who aspires to be elected president in 2020 on the democrat ticket. He's a long time political hack, an occasional plagiarist, and a man who when he last ran for the presidency in 2008 couldn't garner more than 1% of the vote in Iowa during the primary season. He now stands heads and shoulders above his fellow democrats in the national polls as he contemplates entering the presidential race to oust Donald J. Trump in 2020.
The best way to understand this so-called fascination with "Uncle" Joe is by comparing him to his competitors in the race who are admitted socialists and who have promised and continue to promise everything under the sun to their individual constituencies. Their promises run the gamut and include everything from abolishing the electoral college and those who would protect our borders (ICE) to guaranteeing free college and reparations that are long overdue to generations of slave descendants.
It is only by comparing the policies of these leftists to "Uncle" Joe's professed centrist stance on many of the pivotal issues of the day that gives hope to the democrat party that he, Joe Biden, more than any other candidate in the running, can beat Donald J. Trump. It is their further hope that the man who originally hails from Scranton, PA can now bring the state of Pennsylvania along with other mid western states back into the democrat column after Trump turned them decidedly red in 2016.
But the pictures are devastating. He's seemingly groping and fondling every female that he can get his hands on and in plain site for the entire world to see. It's one thing to rub the shoulders of a women in her fifties and quite another to cozy up in a creepy way to a prepubescent child while the cameras are rolling. One can only imagine what he is capable of once he is off the stage and out of the public eye. God forbid.
Word has it that it is perhaps the Sanders campaign that is taking advantage of the #MeToo movement to knock Joe out of the race before he even gets in. He and Sanders are the only candidates either in or out of the race that have more than 10% of the public opinion polls at present. That could change if "Uncle" Joe decides against running. I'm guessing Trump would relish running against Sanders were Sanders to get the nomination and Trump would probably take 49 out of 50 states.
Personally, I don't get Sanders. He's an old fart closing in on eighty years old and he looks to be suffering from some sort of scoliosis of the spine if we're to glean anything from looking at his posture while standing at the podium. He regularly rails against the corrupt practices of the corporate elite while taking their contributions behind the scenes. His ideology is more closely aligned with Castro and other South American strongmen like Maduro than it is with the precepts as laid out by our founding fathers. In short, he hates America and everything it stands for.
That being the case, where do all these haters who follow him to rally after rally come from? What instititions over time gave rise to this kind of group-think? Since when did our history become so malleable in the eyes of so many such that they would sooner overthrow our existing government than tolerate it for another second. We've had one civil war in this country, we don't need another.
Maybe Trump is but a proxy for everything they hate about our current form of government. Were it not Trump, it would be someone else. After Obama, the leftist really did believe that Hillary would extend the policies of the left and they were devastated when Trump won the election. We who don't and never will subscribe to this socialist nonsense continue to see Trump as our firewall against the left. Every day he is in office reminds us, as Obama proudly proclaimed time after time during his tenure, that elections have consequences. In other words, it's our turn.
Whew! Didn't mean to get off on a tangent. Evan has officially dubbed his new place "The Eagles Nest." Who doesn't like a fourth floor spot? No one above you and only one apartment on one side of you. The other side sports a utility closet and a small laundry room. We've not seen anyone in the laundry room the 4 or 5 times we've been over there so far so it's hard to tell what noise, smells, vibrations, or anything else might emanate from the room when it is in use.
I have a good mind to go put a few quarters in one of the two the dryers that are on the opposite side of the wall from the space that will serve as Evan's bedroom just to see if there is any residual anything affecting his "experience."
We've been bringing things over to his apartment slowly but surely. It's almost like we're building it out with this and that since he didn't have much to begin with in terms of all the things he needs to make the place his own. We're talking pots and pans, vacuum cleaners, dishes, etc. Since there is no bed there and plans to bring over an air mattress just haven't panned out, we're on the hunt for a bed and a bed frame.
We bought a bed yesterday, and no we didn't a get a foam mattress, and I can tell you he is pretty excited about having something to sleep on other than the extended twin he's had since high school.
Getting him out and about to lay on a few mattresses was a bit of a chore not nothing too serious. He was looking for something firm but not too firm and it seemed that the plush tops were too squishy for his tastes so when that goldilocks moment came we seized the moment and arranged for prompt delivery.
Bed frames are a different story. They run the gamut to be sure. Most seem too ornate. We're thinking, as is he, that spartan-like is best so I'm looking on Amazon this morning. We'd like to have the frame in place before we take delivery of the mattress so time is of the essence.
Once the bed is there he'll be staying in his apartment full time. I'm guessing we're a week away from that moment. We spent a few hours there a few days ago having his internet service installed so that's a done deal. He's pleased as punch with his new Sony TV and his concern at this point is that his television not be too low and not too high against the wall.
Since the TV will not be attached to the wall, the height of the entertainment center is the key to getting it right. I'm not sure how we solve that problem but solve it we will and we'll then move on to the next issue at hand.
We stopped by his apartment yesterday on our way back from Manchester where we looked at all kinds of things in Boston Interiors. It wasn't long before we heard a train off in the distance. Not the rumbling of a train going down the tracks, mind you, but rather the mid-afternoon punctuation of a series of steam whistles signaling departure or arrival from the station in town.
"Oh, Evan", declared his mother with a muted smile. "Did you hear that"? It wasn't loud enough or near enough to be annoying so anything short of annoying when it comes to all things trains is a good thing. Nancy always gets a little misty eyed when it comes to trains so the whistling of the train in the distance may well have been providential if only in that moment.
We told Evan to be sure to introduce himself to his neighbors when given half a chance. Oddly enough, we've run into one of his fourth floor neighbors every time we've been over there. She's an odd sort she is. Truth be told she looks to be something of a bag lady. She is pleasant enough and was engaging from the start when we first held the door open for her while she carried her groceries into the entrance of the apartment building.
More recently, I helped her move her cart filled with bottles of this and that through the entranceway and into the building. She complained in a kind hearted way that two gentlemen just stood by with while she struggled with her cart which had broken making it difficult at best to maneuver. It was clearly beyond her capability given both the weight of the bottles that she was trying to move and the condition of the cart so I told Evan to wait in the car while I wheeled her cart onto the elevator and up to the fourth floor.
I painstakingly tried my best not to pay attention to the contents of her cart which were by any ordinary standard not ordinary at all. It was a jumble of bottles with labels the likes of which I made a great effort not to read or understand. I couldn't decide if I was aiding and abetting a hoarder or a hypochondriac or both.
She prattled on incessantly but I paid little attention to her musings and was thankful that the cart was holding up in splendid fashion as we neared her fourth floor unit. She seemed appreciative of the effort I was making on her behalf and I was more than happy to restore what little faith she had in her fellow man after interacting with the two men who had failed to come to her aid. I wasn't sure what men she was referring to exactly since I never actually laid eyes on them. Perhaps it was a leap of faith on my part to believe that she was telling me the truth but we'll leave it at that.
I had decided long before reaching her doorstep that I was not going to leave her and her cart in the hallway without seeing to it that she was safely and comfortably in her unit. I couldn't tell if she was at all reluctant to allow me into her apartment but I think she thought the better of not allowing me in and in I went cart and all. After all, she had offered to show Evan and I her two bedroom unit when we first met her so I guessed correctly that my going into her unit was not an anxiety provoking experience for her one way or another.
It's neither here nor there but I did notice when I walked through her doorway that one of her two bedrooms was chock full of exercise equipment. I've never seen a bag lady on a treadmill so I'm reluctant to draw too many conclusions but suffice it to say it was out of character with what little I knew of this woman. Besides, since when does a hoarder worth his or her salt hoard exercise equipment? And then she starts to go on and on about her son who lives in a nearby town and, according to her, is not yet married (with a sigh.)
The best way to understand this so-called fascination with "Uncle" Joe is by comparing him to his competitors in the race who are admitted socialists and who have promised and continue to promise everything under the sun to their individual constituencies. Their promises run the gamut and include everything from abolishing the electoral college and those who would protect our borders (ICE) to guaranteeing free college and reparations that are long overdue to generations of slave descendants.
It is only by comparing the policies of these leftists to "Uncle" Joe's professed centrist stance on many of the pivotal issues of the day that gives hope to the democrat party that he, Joe Biden, more than any other candidate in the running, can beat Donald J. Trump. It is their further hope that the man who originally hails from Scranton, PA can now bring the state of Pennsylvania along with other mid western states back into the democrat column after Trump turned them decidedly red in 2016.
But the pictures are devastating. He's seemingly groping and fondling every female that he can get his hands on and in plain site for the entire world to see. It's one thing to rub the shoulders of a women in her fifties and quite another to cozy up in a creepy way to a prepubescent child while the cameras are rolling. One can only imagine what he is capable of once he is off the stage and out of the public eye. God forbid.
Word has it that it is perhaps the Sanders campaign that is taking advantage of the #MeToo movement to knock Joe out of the race before he even gets in. He and Sanders are the only candidates either in or out of the race that have more than 10% of the public opinion polls at present. That could change if "Uncle" Joe decides against running. I'm guessing Trump would relish running against Sanders were Sanders to get the nomination and Trump would probably take 49 out of 50 states.
Personally, I don't get Sanders. He's an old fart closing in on eighty years old and he looks to be suffering from some sort of scoliosis of the spine if we're to glean anything from looking at his posture while standing at the podium. He regularly rails against the corrupt practices of the corporate elite while taking their contributions behind the scenes. His ideology is more closely aligned with Castro and other South American strongmen like Maduro than it is with the precepts as laid out by our founding fathers. In short, he hates America and everything it stands for.
That being the case, where do all these haters who follow him to rally after rally come from? What instititions over time gave rise to this kind of group-think? Since when did our history become so malleable in the eyes of so many such that they would sooner overthrow our existing government than tolerate it for another second. We've had one civil war in this country, we don't need another.
Maybe Trump is but a proxy for everything they hate about our current form of government. Were it not Trump, it would be someone else. After Obama, the leftist really did believe that Hillary would extend the policies of the left and they were devastated when Trump won the election. We who don't and never will subscribe to this socialist nonsense continue to see Trump as our firewall against the left. Every day he is in office reminds us, as Obama proudly proclaimed time after time during his tenure, that elections have consequences. In other words, it's our turn.
Whew! Didn't mean to get off on a tangent. Evan has officially dubbed his new place "The Eagles Nest." Who doesn't like a fourth floor spot? No one above you and only one apartment on one side of you. The other side sports a utility closet and a small laundry room. We've not seen anyone in the laundry room the 4 or 5 times we've been over there so far so it's hard to tell what noise, smells, vibrations, or anything else might emanate from the room when it is in use.
I have a good mind to go put a few quarters in one of the two the dryers that are on the opposite side of the wall from the space that will serve as Evan's bedroom just to see if there is any residual anything affecting his "experience."
We've been bringing things over to his apartment slowly but surely. It's almost like we're building it out with this and that since he didn't have much to begin with in terms of all the things he needs to make the place his own. We're talking pots and pans, vacuum cleaners, dishes, etc. Since there is no bed there and plans to bring over an air mattress just haven't panned out, we're on the hunt for a bed and a bed frame.
We bought a bed yesterday, and no we didn't a get a foam mattress, and I can tell you he is pretty excited about having something to sleep on other than the extended twin he's had since high school.
Getting him out and about to lay on a few mattresses was a bit of a chore not nothing too serious. He was looking for something firm but not too firm and it seemed that the plush tops were too squishy for his tastes so when that goldilocks moment came we seized the moment and arranged for prompt delivery.
Bed frames are a different story. They run the gamut to be sure. Most seem too ornate. We're thinking, as is he, that spartan-like is best so I'm looking on Amazon this morning. We'd like to have the frame in place before we take delivery of the mattress so time is of the essence.
Once the bed is there he'll be staying in his apartment full time. I'm guessing we're a week away from that moment. We spent a few hours there a few days ago having his internet service installed so that's a done deal. He's pleased as punch with his new Sony TV and his concern at this point is that his television not be too low and not too high against the wall.
Since the TV will not be attached to the wall, the height of the entertainment center is the key to getting it right. I'm not sure how we solve that problem but solve it we will and we'll then move on to the next issue at hand.
We stopped by his apartment yesterday on our way back from Manchester where we looked at all kinds of things in Boston Interiors. It wasn't long before we heard a train off in the distance. Not the rumbling of a train going down the tracks, mind you, but rather the mid-afternoon punctuation of a series of steam whistles signaling departure or arrival from the station in town.
"Oh, Evan", declared his mother with a muted smile. "Did you hear that"? It wasn't loud enough or near enough to be annoying so anything short of annoying when it comes to all things trains is a good thing. Nancy always gets a little misty eyed when it comes to trains so the whistling of the train in the distance may well have been providential if only in that moment.
We told Evan to be sure to introduce himself to his neighbors when given half a chance. Oddly enough, we've run into one of his fourth floor neighbors every time we've been over there. She's an odd sort she is. Truth be told she looks to be something of a bag lady. She is pleasant enough and was engaging from the start when we first held the door open for her while she carried her groceries into the entrance of the apartment building.
More recently, I helped her move her cart filled with bottles of this and that through the entranceway and into the building. She complained in a kind hearted way that two gentlemen just stood by with while she struggled with her cart which had broken making it difficult at best to maneuver. It was clearly beyond her capability given both the weight of the bottles that she was trying to move and the condition of the cart so I told Evan to wait in the car while I wheeled her cart onto the elevator and up to the fourth floor.
I painstakingly tried my best not to pay attention to the contents of her cart which were by any ordinary standard not ordinary at all. It was a jumble of bottles with labels the likes of which I made a great effort not to read or understand. I couldn't decide if I was aiding and abetting a hoarder or a hypochondriac or both.
She prattled on incessantly but I paid little attention to her musings and was thankful that the cart was holding up in splendid fashion as we neared her fourth floor unit. She seemed appreciative of the effort I was making on her behalf and I was more than happy to restore what little faith she had in her fellow man after interacting with the two men who had failed to come to her aid. I wasn't sure what men she was referring to exactly since I never actually laid eyes on them. Perhaps it was a leap of faith on my part to believe that she was telling me the truth but we'll leave it at that.
I had decided long before reaching her doorstep that I was not going to leave her and her cart in the hallway without seeing to it that she was safely and comfortably in her unit. I couldn't tell if she was at all reluctant to allow me into her apartment but I think she thought the better of not allowing me in and in I went cart and all. After all, she had offered to show Evan and I her two bedroom unit when we first met her so I guessed correctly that my going into her unit was not an anxiety provoking experience for her one way or another.
It's neither here nor there but I did notice when I walked through her doorway that one of her two bedrooms was chock full of exercise equipment. I've never seen a bag lady on a treadmill so I'm reluctant to draw too many conclusions but suffice it to say it was out of character with what little I knew of this woman. Besides, since when does a hoarder worth his or her salt hoard exercise equipment? And then she starts to go on and on about her son who lives in a nearby town and, according to her, is not yet married (with a sigh.)
Knock Down, Drag Out
30/03/19 08:05
I think I first tripped across a video or two on YouTube that caught my eye. Here were a couple of women beating the hell out of each other in a steel caged death match. These were sanctioned bouts by the UFC and by and large replays of a previous pay-per-view event. I think I was impressed with the brutality expressed by the fighters and the fact that they were women made it all that much more interesting. Not in a titillating way, mind you, but by virtue of the fact that women are finally carving out a place for themselves in a sport that has been historically dominated by men.
Maybe it surprises me and maybe it doesn't that women are just as capable as men when it comes to committing egregious acts of violence against their fellow "man." Make no mistake about it. MMA fighting is a blood sport. You may think that it is less brutal when two women are trying to knock each other out with their sharp elbows and bludgeoning knees but like everything else in life it is all relative. The objective is the same. You live and die by your ratings so you do what you can to inflict as much body harm as possible on your opponent. It's the penultimate zero-sum game.
I couldn't help but wonder about the backgrounds of these warriors. How precisely did one thing lead to another in these women's lives to the point where they wanted to beat the bejesus out of another human being? Were they deprived of compassion and caring as children? Did they perhaps follow the example of their older or younger siblings be they male or female? What father or mother wants to see their child in a ring fighting for their lives for the sake of a W in the win column?
I think I need to give the devil his due here. My views are probably altogether far too sexist and disparingly naive. Truth be told, women are tougher than men. If you start there, it's not a reach at all to see women in the ring competing against other women. Once you remove all considerations due to gender, you can start to appreciate aspects of the sport such as training, technique, strategy, and the will to win.
The better fighters possess what's known in the sport as a killer instinct but that only takes you so far. The good thing about MMA fighting is that there are a lot of ways to bring your opponent to submission. Getting a TKO is good, but not the end-all, be-all. I like to see their records, catch a glimpse or two of previous fights which the shows usually include, and then I like to size them up as they make their way through the cheering crowds from the waiting room to the ring.
I'm rarely ambivalent as to which fighter I might like to see win and that may or may not have anything to do with who has the better record. Records, as we all know, can be misleading. Like most red blooded Americans, it goes without saying that I like to root for the underdog. The man or woman who has the tougher hill to climb typically gets my vote. The man or woman fighting to get out of the ghetto regardless of nationality has infinitely more incentive to walk away with a win.
I feel more empathy than not for the older fighters who for lack of money for their next meal have to put their lives on the line in order to provide for themselves or their families. Conversely, I'm generally supportive of the younger fighters who have chosen this particular career path even with all the hazards inherent in the sport. I'm not sure why but I occasionally worry that women put their child bearing capabilities at risk when they endure round after round of abuse and destruction at the hands, feet, knees, and elbows of their opponents. It can and usually does get down and dirty.
In spite of the incessant terror and threats of bodily harm brought to bear in any given match, it is a testament to the human spirt and the dignity of the sport that when all is said and done it is the enduring respect that each of the fighters has for their opponent that rises above all else. No matter how much blood is spilled, no matter how much damage is inflicted, the fighters invariably embrace and celebrate their opponents when the final bell sounds. Win or lose, you thank your opponent for making you a better fighter, a better person, and for the opportunity to learn in the process. Good stuff.
Maybe it surprises me and maybe it doesn't that women are just as capable as men when it comes to committing egregious acts of violence against their fellow "man." Make no mistake about it. MMA fighting is a blood sport. You may think that it is less brutal when two women are trying to knock each other out with their sharp elbows and bludgeoning knees but like everything else in life it is all relative. The objective is the same. You live and die by your ratings so you do what you can to inflict as much body harm as possible on your opponent. It's the penultimate zero-sum game.
I couldn't help but wonder about the backgrounds of these warriors. How precisely did one thing lead to another in these women's lives to the point where they wanted to beat the bejesus out of another human being? Were they deprived of compassion and caring as children? Did they perhaps follow the example of their older or younger siblings be they male or female? What father or mother wants to see their child in a ring fighting for their lives for the sake of a W in the win column?
I think I need to give the devil his due here. My views are probably altogether far too sexist and disparingly naive. Truth be told, women are tougher than men. If you start there, it's not a reach at all to see women in the ring competing against other women. Once you remove all considerations due to gender, you can start to appreciate aspects of the sport such as training, technique, strategy, and the will to win.
The better fighters possess what's known in the sport as a killer instinct but that only takes you so far. The good thing about MMA fighting is that there are a lot of ways to bring your opponent to submission. Getting a TKO is good, but not the end-all, be-all. I like to see their records, catch a glimpse or two of previous fights which the shows usually include, and then I like to size them up as they make their way through the cheering crowds from the waiting room to the ring.
I'm rarely ambivalent as to which fighter I might like to see win and that may or may not have anything to do with who has the better record. Records, as we all know, can be misleading. Like most red blooded Americans, it goes without saying that I like to root for the underdog. The man or woman who has the tougher hill to climb typically gets my vote. The man or woman fighting to get out of the ghetto regardless of nationality has infinitely more incentive to walk away with a win.
I feel more empathy than not for the older fighters who for lack of money for their next meal have to put their lives on the line in order to provide for themselves or their families. Conversely, I'm generally supportive of the younger fighters who have chosen this particular career path even with all the hazards inherent in the sport. I'm not sure why but I occasionally worry that women put their child bearing capabilities at risk when they endure round after round of abuse and destruction at the hands, feet, knees, and elbows of their opponents. It can and usually does get down and dirty.
In spite of the incessant terror and threats of bodily harm brought to bear in any given match, it is a testament to the human spirt and the dignity of the sport that when all is said and done it is the enduring respect that each of the fighters has for their opponent that rises above all else. No matter how much blood is spilled, no matter how much damage is inflicted, the fighters invariably embrace and celebrate their opponents when the final bell sounds. Win or lose, you thank your opponent for making you a better fighter, a better person, and for the opportunity to learn in the process. Good stuff.
It's Mueller Time
24/03/19 06:18
The Mueller Report is finally out and the two-plus year investigation of Trump and everyone in his orbit is finally over. It was a sham to begin with since there was no crime worthy of investigation to trigger the Special Counsel at the outset. It was designed by and large by the Clinton's and the DNC to drive him out of office or at the very least cripple Trump and his agenda in his first term in office.
The liberal media has pushed every Mueller related negative narrative under the sun since the investigation began and their comeuppance is long overdue. The investigation has now ended with a whimper and not a bang much to the chagrin of the media and their cohorts in crime, the democrat party. The report concluded that there will be no indictments in the wake of it all and that has many in liberal media both fit to be tied and frustrated beyond belief. If there is anything more delicious than what we're seeing on shows like Chris Mathews and Rachel Madcow, I really can't imagine what that would look like.
This travesty of justice must not be allowed to drift off into history without a proper reckoning. It is without a doubt the most insidious and far reaching political criminal event in the history of our country. The opposition party, the Democrats, tried to unseat a newly elected president of our great country using every lever of government available to them and there were many. Let that sink in.
Corrupt officials across the span of government ranging from the FBI to ambassadors abroad coalesced and conspired to deny the presidency to one Donald J Trump. In the event that that failed they would invoke their so called "insurance policy" which was designed to drive him from office through the impeachment process. Now that Mueller has found no collusion or obstruction of justice, any efforts on behalf of the democratic house of Representatives to impeach the president are likely to met with resistance from the American public.
What is remarkable to me is just how far reaching this cancer was and one can only wonder if this would have been at all possible were it not sanctioned with perhaps more than a wink and a nod by the president who preceded Donald Trump, one Barrack Hussein Obama. With the 2020 elections in the offing and with the democrats in charge of the House of Representatives, investigations of Trump and his family will continue in an effort to weaken his chances for re-election. It is all a charade and one that is not lost on right-minded Americans coast to coast.
But I digress. Evan and I were sitting in the living room the other day talking about his upcoming move and all the things he needs to start paying attention to in the days leading up to his move. I was looking something up on my iPad and it all of a sudden went offline. That's odd, I thought. Did someone forget to pay a bill? Was there a power outage? I put my trouble shooting hat on and went to work. Once I confirmed that our account was in good stead I turned my attention to the myriad of peripherals that make it all work and, to make a long story short, discovered that I needed to buy a new router.
I don't know how routers die as a rule but one would think that you might notice a few red flags along the way before it just stops working. I recent days I have noticed that my connection to the server on my computer has been glitchy while watching certain shows on the television. I would see the equivalent of a bouncing beach ball on the screen that would in time resolve but this was something new. Was it a harbinger of things to come or just, as I said, something of a glitch?
Here is where it gets weird. Once I determined that it wasn't router related, I traced the cable on the outside of the house and found that it had been severed seemingly with a sharp instrument. The cable laid on the ground directly beneath a bird feeder that spilled seeds over time attracting squirrels and other animals equipped wth incissors just sharp enough to inflict the kind of damage that rendered my cable DOA. Great. Now, in addition to having to replace the router I had to rewire the cable.
Did I mention that we also had to replace a printer? I like Canon printers but they don't last forever. Once things get out of whack there is simply no way to fix it. You can run alignment tools until the cows come home and it may or may not hang in there for a day or two but there is very little light at end of that proverbial tunnel so replacement is the only option. This new printer has the option of printing in black and white and that has been a very prickly shortcoming with printers past. There are times when you just don't want to waste color ink and there were no options to avoid that but now there are.
Of course, getting all these things done means ripping rooms apart to get at hidden wires and outlets, disconnecting and re-connecting peripherals that you connected long ago and now rightly worry that you won't remember how to put it all back together, and then there is the issue of having to reboot devices either separately or in unison in order to reestablish connections so that the right lights start to flicker on and off again. After all was said and done I needed to make sure that I had a dial tone. Good thing I have a knack for all this shit.
That Jussie Smolette case burns my ass. He was indicted on 16 felony counts and then, in a ridiculous and some might say underhanded way, the prosecutor decided to drop the charges. This is the Chicago way they say. It's not what you know it's who you know. This leftist piece of shit actor has connections so he walks away a free man while anyone else in his position would be going to jail. I'm glad the DOJ and FBI are getting involved. That is not how our justice system is supposed to work. Lock him up!
I'm looking forward to watching Trump's rally in Michigan tonight. I think it's his first of the 2020 election season. The man is going to be unrestrained in his contempt for everyone and everybody who had anything to do with the Russian collusion campaign against him beginning in 2016. The fake media will no doubt be squarely in his sights.
Let's be clear. He has very right now to take as many victory laps as he damn well pleases after all he and his family and supporters have endured for the past 2-3 years. When I think of all the things our country might have accomplished were it not for the Mueller Witch Hunt, I'm ashamed and embarrassed for those so-called institutions of ours that colluded and conspired to bring us the Mueller matter. Damn them all. I couldn't be happier that the very networks that acted in unison with the corrupt institutions are now seeing their viewers dropping off precipitously in the wake of Mueller's findings. I hope they fucking wither on the vine.
As for the 2020 democrats in the running to beat Trump, all I can say is what a bunch of losers. To a person, they are running on one thing and one thing only. That is, to beat Trump. Those with a semblance of anything else on their wish lists include reparations, medicare for all, giving teachers more money, taxing the bejesus out of high income individuals and corporations, and god only knows what else. You would think they were running for the president of Cuba for chrissakes.
Did I mention that Joe Biden is disparaging white people in order to curry favor with the minorities he will need to get his sorry ass across the finish line? Right, Joe. It's all about white privilege. And what about the gay mayor from the MidWest? I'm not sure the Christians of this country are ready to concede that marriage is between anything but a man and a woman so here is my advice: You may want to hold off scheduling that move to the White house come January 2021. Just saying.
The liberal media has pushed every Mueller related negative narrative under the sun since the investigation began and their comeuppance is long overdue. The investigation has now ended with a whimper and not a bang much to the chagrin of the media and their cohorts in crime, the democrat party. The report concluded that there will be no indictments in the wake of it all and that has many in liberal media both fit to be tied and frustrated beyond belief. If there is anything more delicious than what we're seeing on shows like Chris Mathews and Rachel Madcow, I really can't imagine what that would look like.
This travesty of justice must not be allowed to drift off into history without a proper reckoning. It is without a doubt the most insidious and far reaching political criminal event in the history of our country. The opposition party, the Democrats, tried to unseat a newly elected president of our great country using every lever of government available to them and there were many. Let that sink in.
Corrupt officials across the span of government ranging from the FBI to ambassadors abroad coalesced and conspired to deny the presidency to one Donald J Trump. In the event that that failed they would invoke their so called "insurance policy" which was designed to drive him from office through the impeachment process. Now that Mueller has found no collusion or obstruction of justice, any efforts on behalf of the democratic house of Representatives to impeach the president are likely to met with resistance from the American public.
What is remarkable to me is just how far reaching this cancer was and one can only wonder if this would have been at all possible were it not sanctioned with perhaps more than a wink and a nod by the president who preceded Donald Trump, one Barrack Hussein Obama. With the 2020 elections in the offing and with the democrats in charge of the House of Representatives, investigations of Trump and his family will continue in an effort to weaken his chances for re-election. It is all a charade and one that is not lost on right-minded Americans coast to coast.
But I digress. Evan and I were sitting in the living room the other day talking about his upcoming move and all the things he needs to start paying attention to in the days leading up to his move. I was looking something up on my iPad and it all of a sudden went offline. That's odd, I thought. Did someone forget to pay a bill? Was there a power outage? I put my trouble shooting hat on and went to work. Once I confirmed that our account was in good stead I turned my attention to the myriad of peripherals that make it all work and, to make a long story short, discovered that I needed to buy a new router.
I don't know how routers die as a rule but one would think that you might notice a few red flags along the way before it just stops working. I recent days I have noticed that my connection to the server on my computer has been glitchy while watching certain shows on the television. I would see the equivalent of a bouncing beach ball on the screen that would in time resolve but this was something new. Was it a harbinger of things to come or just, as I said, something of a glitch?
Here is where it gets weird. Once I determined that it wasn't router related, I traced the cable on the outside of the house and found that it had been severed seemingly with a sharp instrument. The cable laid on the ground directly beneath a bird feeder that spilled seeds over time attracting squirrels and other animals equipped wth incissors just sharp enough to inflict the kind of damage that rendered my cable DOA. Great. Now, in addition to having to replace the router I had to rewire the cable.
Did I mention that we also had to replace a printer? I like Canon printers but they don't last forever. Once things get out of whack there is simply no way to fix it. You can run alignment tools until the cows come home and it may or may not hang in there for a day or two but there is very little light at end of that proverbial tunnel so replacement is the only option. This new printer has the option of printing in black and white and that has been a very prickly shortcoming with printers past. There are times when you just don't want to waste color ink and there were no options to avoid that but now there are.
Of course, getting all these things done means ripping rooms apart to get at hidden wires and outlets, disconnecting and re-connecting peripherals that you connected long ago and now rightly worry that you won't remember how to put it all back together, and then there is the issue of having to reboot devices either separately or in unison in order to reestablish connections so that the right lights start to flicker on and off again. After all was said and done I needed to make sure that I had a dial tone. Good thing I have a knack for all this shit.
That Jussie Smolette case burns my ass. He was indicted on 16 felony counts and then, in a ridiculous and some might say underhanded way, the prosecutor decided to drop the charges. This is the Chicago way they say. It's not what you know it's who you know. This leftist piece of shit actor has connections so he walks away a free man while anyone else in his position would be going to jail. I'm glad the DOJ and FBI are getting involved. That is not how our justice system is supposed to work. Lock him up!
I'm looking forward to watching Trump's rally in Michigan tonight. I think it's his first of the 2020 election season. The man is going to be unrestrained in his contempt for everyone and everybody who had anything to do with the Russian collusion campaign against him beginning in 2016. The fake media will no doubt be squarely in his sights.
Let's be clear. He has very right now to take as many victory laps as he damn well pleases after all he and his family and supporters have endured for the past 2-3 years. When I think of all the things our country might have accomplished were it not for the Mueller Witch Hunt, I'm ashamed and embarrassed for those so-called institutions of ours that colluded and conspired to bring us the Mueller matter. Damn them all. I couldn't be happier that the very networks that acted in unison with the corrupt institutions are now seeing their viewers dropping off precipitously in the wake of Mueller's findings. I hope they fucking wither on the vine.
As for the 2020 democrats in the running to beat Trump, all I can say is what a bunch of losers. To a person, they are running on one thing and one thing only. That is, to beat Trump. Those with a semblance of anything else on their wish lists include reparations, medicare for all, giving teachers more money, taxing the bejesus out of high income individuals and corporations, and god only knows what else. You would think they were running for the president of Cuba for chrissakes.
Did I mention that Joe Biden is disparaging white people in order to curry favor with the minorities he will need to get his sorry ass across the finish line? Right, Joe. It's all about white privilege. And what about the gay mayor from the MidWest? I'm not sure the Christians of this country are ready to concede that marriage is between anything but a man and a woman so here is my advice: You may want to hold off scheduling that move to the White house come January 2021. Just saying.
Stormy Seas
03/03/19 07:45
I'm not sure that I'm up to writing in this here journal today but it feels right so I'll get started. My cold morphed into a bloody bronchial nightmare over the course of the last few days and it still rattles around in my chest even now despite my best efforts to rid myself of this noxious beast. I finally dragged myself into a local urgent care facility and they sent me packing with a narcotic to muffle the spasms in my diaphragm and a potent antibiotic to fight off any remaining infections running through my blood stream.
Now, my darling is not feeling well and I have no one to blame but myself for not doing a better job of cordoning off my sickness. I certainly did leave the bedroom at least one evening after several hours of fitful coughing and not wanting to further expose her to my germs and deprive her of a good night's sleep. It felt good to cough with abandon while lying on the couch and out of earshot of my wife. That was before my constant coughing wreaked havoc with the muscles in my abdomen making every cough more painful than the last.
That is probably just how it goes when things go awry with your health. You're just fine one day and the next day you're fighting for your life in the local emergency room. We'll have to see how Nancy's sickness develops but if it seems to track what I've been battling for the last week then we'll both be happy that I walked away from the urgent care center with the medicines that I did. Knowing what I now know about this killer, suppressing the cough is the key to keeping everything in check. Never mind that the narcotic can be habit forming and insidious in it's own way.
I'm happy to report that we received an e-mail this past Friday with the subject line "approved." That's right, folks. Evan will be getting his own apartment soon thanks to everyone involved in what has certainly been a herculean effort. From the neighbors who offered their support by providing invaluable references to the builders who make it all possible, not to mention the efforts of his mom who never took no for an answer while wading through a bureaucratic gauntlet of paperwork, the finish line is finally in sight and it is a welcome sight indeed.
Truth be told, I think it is now starting to scare him a little bit. It seems that he has fallen into a somewhat comfortable routine here at home despite his intermittent caterwauling about moving out into his own place. When I think of all the things we never got around to expect from him as a responsible member of the household it leaves me coming up short. These are skills he will clearly need for his own survival longer term. He will be part of a larger community as well and that has its own set of requirements which are as yet undefined.
Fast forward a week and a half. The hacks are fewer and far between but the congestion is still a bitch. It makes everything more difficult, less enjoyable, and all you can do is wait. Evan's move-in date has moved to 4/1 so we'll all hopefully be feeling better by the time he needs us to assist with the move. It's just all the little stuff that we're not thinking about at the moment that worries me. "Worries" might be too strong a word. He'll probably be happy to be moving in with nothing more than a toothbrush and a towel after hankering as he has for so long to get his own place.
Betsi brought over some homemade baked beans and freshly made bread late yesterday afternoon. The beans were piping hot and the bread was still throwing off steam when she handed it to me while standing on our doorstep. I told her earlier in the day that I'd be happy to show up with my face mask and nitrile gloves if necessary and, if not, she could leave the stuff on her stoop. Nancy and I had been watching the disturbing documentary about Michael Jackson so told Evan to help himself and we would have some after he was done. I think that boy was hungry.
I don't have much of a recollection of Michael Jackson aside from his obvious musical hits but this documentary laid it all bare. The guy was a freak in more ways than one. I guess I had seen the supermarket tabloid headlines over time about his predilection for young boys but thought that they were just that. It was pretty sick stuff. He used his rock star status to attract and groom not only the children involved but their families who were unintentionally complicit in the many arrangements that gave the superstar access to their children.
But the freshly baked bread and beans were exquisite and we were happy to have them. It was the first real meal any of us had had for the day. I called Betsi and lavished her with praise for bringing them by. She knew we had been struggling with these damn colds and probably gathered that we weren't getting out much so took the bull by the horns. It was a well intentioned dish and they are by far the best. When you know people want the best for you and they are willing to make a statement to that effect by cooking a dish, sending prayers, or doing the things that neighbors do for their neighbors in a time of need then that is a good thing.
Maybe it's best that this sickness comes along toward the end of Winter as it has when staying indoors is more the norm than not. How infectious are we still exactly, I asked my wife last night as we drove to the local Starbucks for something, anything, that would put a little spring in our step. We were well on our way to a nearby town to pick up Mexican take out which has always been reliably good and reliably tasty. It didn't matter that driving the distance might result in our arriving back home with tepid to cold dishes.
It just felt good to be out of doors and on the proverbial treadmill of life like the rest of the world. A shroud of darkness descended on the City of Portsmouth and surrounding waterways in the early evening hours and was merrily punctuated as far as the eye could see with a galaxy of brilliant lights. I was willing to be swallowed whole by looking out over the expanse which was Portsmouth as we crossed the bridge over the Piscataqua River and into Kittery, Maine but thought better of it and gripped the wheel even tighter knowing what I knew of my flimsy grip on reality after having spent the better part of two weeks in or close to bed.
Now, my darling is not feeling well and I have no one to blame but myself for not doing a better job of cordoning off my sickness. I certainly did leave the bedroom at least one evening after several hours of fitful coughing and not wanting to further expose her to my germs and deprive her of a good night's sleep. It felt good to cough with abandon while lying on the couch and out of earshot of my wife. That was before my constant coughing wreaked havoc with the muscles in my abdomen making every cough more painful than the last.
That is probably just how it goes when things go awry with your health. You're just fine one day and the next day you're fighting for your life in the local emergency room. We'll have to see how Nancy's sickness develops but if it seems to track what I've been battling for the last week then we'll both be happy that I walked away from the urgent care center with the medicines that I did. Knowing what I now know about this killer, suppressing the cough is the key to keeping everything in check. Never mind that the narcotic can be habit forming and insidious in it's own way.
I'm happy to report that we received an e-mail this past Friday with the subject line "approved." That's right, folks. Evan will be getting his own apartment soon thanks to everyone involved in what has certainly been a herculean effort. From the neighbors who offered their support by providing invaluable references to the builders who make it all possible, not to mention the efforts of his mom who never took no for an answer while wading through a bureaucratic gauntlet of paperwork, the finish line is finally in sight and it is a welcome sight indeed.
Truth be told, I think it is now starting to scare him a little bit. It seems that he has fallen into a somewhat comfortable routine here at home despite his intermittent caterwauling about moving out into his own place. When I think of all the things we never got around to expect from him as a responsible member of the household it leaves me coming up short. These are skills he will clearly need for his own survival longer term. He will be part of a larger community as well and that has its own set of requirements which are as yet undefined.
Fast forward a week and a half. The hacks are fewer and far between but the congestion is still a bitch. It makes everything more difficult, less enjoyable, and all you can do is wait. Evan's move-in date has moved to 4/1 so we'll all hopefully be feeling better by the time he needs us to assist with the move. It's just all the little stuff that we're not thinking about at the moment that worries me. "Worries" might be too strong a word. He'll probably be happy to be moving in with nothing more than a toothbrush and a towel after hankering as he has for so long to get his own place.
Betsi brought over some homemade baked beans and freshly made bread late yesterday afternoon. The beans were piping hot and the bread was still throwing off steam when she handed it to me while standing on our doorstep. I told her earlier in the day that I'd be happy to show up with my face mask and nitrile gloves if necessary and, if not, she could leave the stuff on her stoop. Nancy and I had been watching the disturbing documentary about Michael Jackson so told Evan to help himself and we would have some after he was done. I think that boy was hungry.
I don't have much of a recollection of Michael Jackson aside from his obvious musical hits but this documentary laid it all bare. The guy was a freak in more ways than one. I guess I had seen the supermarket tabloid headlines over time about his predilection for young boys but thought that they were just that. It was pretty sick stuff. He used his rock star status to attract and groom not only the children involved but their families who were unintentionally complicit in the many arrangements that gave the superstar access to their children.
But the freshly baked bread and beans were exquisite and we were happy to have them. It was the first real meal any of us had had for the day. I called Betsi and lavished her with praise for bringing them by. She knew we had been struggling with these damn colds and probably gathered that we weren't getting out much so took the bull by the horns. It was a well intentioned dish and they are by far the best. When you know people want the best for you and they are willing to make a statement to that effect by cooking a dish, sending prayers, or doing the things that neighbors do for their neighbors in a time of need then that is a good thing.
Maybe it's best that this sickness comes along toward the end of Winter as it has when staying indoors is more the norm than not. How infectious are we still exactly, I asked my wife last night as we drove to the local Starbucks for something, anything, that would put a little spring in our step. We were well on our way to a nearby town to pick up Mexican take out which has always been reliably good and reliably tasty. It didn't matter that driving the distance might result in our arriving back home with tepid to cold dishes.
It just felt good to be out of doors and on the proverbial treadmill of life like the rest of the world. A shroud of darkness descended on the City of Portsmouth and surrounding waterways in the early evening hours and was merrily punctuated as far as the eye could see with a galaxy of brilliant lights. I was willing to be swallowed whole by looking out over the expanse which was Portsmouth as we crossed the bridge over the Piscataqua River and into Kittery, Maine but thought better of it and gripped the wheel even tighter knowing what I knew of my flimsy grip on reality after having spent the better part of two weeks in or close to bed.
All Bets Are Off
23/02/19 09:15
I wish we hadn't waited so long to follow up with the folks working on Evan's housing application. I think we didn't lose a lot of time but a day or two in the process as we wind down to the expiration date is meaningful. And they sent us a new form to fill out which surprised us a little bit. Is this a form that is sent out after other things have been approved or is this a form intended to muddy the waters and possibly put his application in jeopardy? I guess we'll never know but we have yet another weekend where there's nothing to be done but wait for Monday to roll around when we'll hopefully hear something. It's painful.
What is this business about arresting Bob Kraft of the Patriots in a sting in Jupiter, Florida? He is apparently being charged with solicitation of a prostitute and there may be broader charges of trafficking for the owners of the establishment. How did Mr. Kraft get himself into their predicament exactly? The massage parlor was in a strip mall and was for all intents and purposes a respectable albeit seedy joint. What billionaire worth his salt would waltz into such a place much less avail himself of their saucy, secretive, and seductive services? Did he think nobody would recognize him? Did he care? Did he think he was untouchable given his vast resources and his bulletproof public image?
The libertarian in me says that consenting adults doing as they wish with their bodies is a god given right and that the authorities should spend their precious time going after real criminals. In other words, prostitution should be legal. The reports also say that "bigger" names were involved in the sting but these names have yet to be reported. Why is he being singled out? It is a misdemeanor charge and one that would not have him spending even a night in jail so what is the point exactly? Does it have anything to do with the fact that he is a Trump supporter? It's hard to say why things play out as they do in the press these days but to say a lot of it is politically motivated is an understatement.
If I've asked Evan once I've asked him a million times not to drink out of the bottle. I'm referring to the bottles of spring water that I like to keep in the refrigerator and which I find uncapped from time to time sitting in various places throughout the house. Apparently, that is asking too much of him. I've decided that I just won't buy that particular bottled water again until he moves out. It's a pretty big bottle so if he's swigging from a full bottle it pretty much renders it unusable for anyone else in the family. No one likes to drink water out of a bottle that someone has been already drinking from. It's simply unsanitary.
I do hope that the humanitarian aid we've sent down to Venezuela will get into the country today and that the embattled president Maduro will allow it to get into the hands and homes of the people who desperately need it. That is unlikely to happen given his defiant posturing as of late. I'm against our country determining winners and losers when and where sovereign governments are involved but this is in our hemisphere and we cannot from a national security standpoint allow an illegal and leftist government to go unchallenged. This is especially true when their very constitution calls for democratic elections.
Cuban, Russian, and other forces have coalesced around Maduro making his ouster less likely in the short term. We don't want a ground war just a stones throw away from our southern border so Trump needs to proceed with caution. He is doing just that. He is supported by many countries around the world in calling for Maduro's ouster. Perhaps more importantly, the US under Trump was the first country to recognize Guaido as the rightful president and many other countries around the world followed suit. God willing, it's just a matter of time now before Maduro and the military that supports him loses their grip on power.
I need to bring my bike inside and do a bit of work on it. I wish I had one of those bike stands that holds it off the ground so I can do what I need to do. I do have a stand that is used for people who want to ride their bike indoors so I might give that a try. One of my front derailleurs is not working properly so I'm not accessing the full range of gears available to me on any given day. Do I know what I'm doing? Hell, no.
Can I look it up on YouTube and follow along just enough to get the job done? I think so. I will say, and I was telling Nancy this yesterday, riding my bike during the winter months is really really hard on the bike. The dirt and accumulated grit threatens to grind everything to a halt. I'm just hoping to stay far enough above the fray so that I don't give in and just buy a new bike. There is a teaching moment here and I just need to get in touch with my inner mechanic in order to, as they say, git er done.
I'm wanting to purchase a new computer sometime soon. It's daunting to think about everything I need to consider before making that purchase. It's even more daunting to think about the process of getting the set up right so that it appears seamless to the end user (Nancy.) I'm also contemplating using my current computer as a server rather than retiring it outright. It can house all of my movies and shows in addition to years worth of accumulated home videos and pictures. I've never set up a server so that will be a challenge.
Do I wait to see Apple has to offer with their updates on their iMacs and Mac Pro's before making the purchase? Probably not. I'm not sure that either one of those devices is the right one for me. I no longer need the horsepower of a Mac Pro because I do little to no video processing and I've never been a fanboy of the iMacs since I'm liking to choose my own peripheral devices including monitors, mouses, and keyboards.
I can't say enough about my Mac Pro which I purchased back in 2018 and still runs like a charm although it has been a while since I've been able to update the system software given the outdated architecture of the machine. It will live on as a server forever and a day if I can figure out how to set it all up. Only once in the 11 years I've owned the machine did I have to bring it in for servicing when the screen went dark and I didn't have the tools or the resources to sort it out. It needed a new video card so that was an easy and somewhat inexpensive fix. Nancy asks me on occasion what she will do when I am no longer here to fix things. Where exactly does she think I'm going? Never mind.
I'm really liking the way the 2020 presidential election cycle is shaping up. Bernie Sanders is back in the race thinking that his platform of socialism is just what the democrats need to get them across the finish line come November 2020. There are just enough of his democrat competitors in the race who think as he does so I'm thinking they push the party further and further left and so far left that middle America will reject them outright when the time comes to cast their votes.
The moderate democrats, who are older and mostly white, don't stand a chance with this new base of leftists. Sanders has long pointed to leftist regimes the likes of which is currently in power in Venezuela as a political model to follow. That country is mere shadow of its former self and is falling and failing more and more with each passing day. Not a good hill to die on for the likes of Sanders and his democratic brethren.
The suburban housewives that handed many a win to democratic candidates in the 2018 mid terms are now split 50-50 on support of Trump's immigration policies including the building of a wall on our southern border. This is a seminal moment in the formulation of Trump's arranging an expanded base that will ensure that he gets reelected for another four years. The election of our first female president is going to have to wait. I do hope that the republicans are thinking ahead on the woman issue and god only knows we could use our own version of a Maggie Thatcher when the time comes. It damn well better not be that pissy little once never-Trumper, Nikki Haley. We can do better.
Speaking of socialists, I can't get this whole Amazon debacle out of my mind. New York City had competed against a slate of other states and won the bid as a potential location for a new Amazon headquarters. It promised thousands and thousands of jobs and billions of dollars in tax revenues to the ailing city. The governor of NY had just recently decried the shortfalls in revenues and the relocation of many of their more profitable businesses to points south and west where tax policies were more favorable for high income individuals and corporations. The new Amazon location was just the elixir that the city and state of New York needed to restore those lost sources of revenue.
But it was not to be. Amazon ran into a phalynx of leftists and socialist leaders led by none other than AOC who promised their constituents that they would fight the good fight if Amazon did not relent and give in to their demands. It was tantamount to extortion and Amazon was having none of it. Good for them. It wasn't enough that Amazon would and could single handedly bail out the state and city once they were up and running. AOC wanted her pound of political flesh and she was willing to queer the Amazon deal if that is what it took.
Little AOC and her band of socialists that voted her into office in 2018 wasted no time taking a victory lap when Amazon finally decided not to go through with the investment. Public officials who had worked so hard to secure the deal were stunned. In an ironic twist of fate for the leftists that run New York and embrace as they do "democratic" values, it is precisely the power of the few that can ultimately dictate which battles are won and which battles are lost. Cooler heads failed to prevail and that was that.
For those who are so proud of AOC and her accomplishments to date in Congress and on the streets in her district, I ask the question, "how do you like them apples"? If I had to guess, I would say she is destined to be a one term congresswoman who will return to her job as a bartender when all is said and done. To make matters worse, she commented in the wake of Amazon's decision to pull out that they could now use the $3 billion in tax incentives that were offered to Amazon to "better the lives of the people of NYC." Even with an economics degree from BU, she didn't understand that the $3 billion would only materialize if Amazon was up and running. It's beyond belief.
What is this business about arresting Bob Kraft of the Patriots in a sting in Jupiter, Florida? He is apparently being charged with solicitation of a prostitute and there may be broader charges of trafficking for the owners of the establishment. How did Mr. Kraft get himself into their predicament exactly? The massage parlor was in a strip mall and was for all intents and purposes a respectable albeit seedy joint. What billionaire worth his salt would waltz into such a place much less avail himself of their saucy, secretive, and seductive services? Did he think nobody would recognize him? Did he care? Did he think he was untouchable given his vast resources and his bulletproof public image?
The libertarian in me says that consenting adults doing as they wish with their bodies is a god given right and that the authorities should spend their precious time going after real criminals. In other words, prostitution should be legal. The reports also say that "bigger" names were involved in the sting but these names have yet to be reported. Why is he being singled out? It is a misdemeanor charge and one that would not have him spending even a night in jail so what is the point exactly? Does it have anything to do with the fact that he is a Trump supporter? It's hard to say why things play out as they do in the press these days but to say a lot of it is politically motivated is an understatement.
If I've asked Evan once I've asked him a million times not to drink out of the bottle. I'm referring to the bottles of spring water that I like to keep in the refrigerator and which I find uncapped from time to time sitting in various places throughout the house. Apparently, that is asking too much of him. I've decided that I just won't buy that particular bottled water again until he moves out. It's a pretty big bottle so if he's swigging from a full bottle it pretty much renders it unusable for anyone else in the family. No one likes to drink water out of a bottle that someone has been already drinking from. It's simply unsanitary.
I do hope that the humanitarian aid we've sent down to Venezuela will get into the country today and that the embattled president Maduro will allow it to get into the hands and homes of the people who desperately need it. That is unlikely to happen given his defiant posturing as of late. I'm against our country determining winners and losers when and where sovereign governments are involved but this is in our hemisphere and we cannot from a national security standpoint allow an illegal and leftist government to go unchallenged. This is especially true when their very constitution calls for democratic elections.
Cuban, Russian, and other forces have coalesced around Maduro making his ouster less likely in the short term. We don't want a ground war just a stones throw away from our southern border so Trump needs to proceed with caution. He is doing just that. He is supported by many countries around the world in calling for Maduro's ouster. Perhaps more importantly, the US under Trump was the first country to recognize Guaido as the rightful president and many other countries around the world followed suit. God willing, it's just a matter of time now before Maduro and the military that supports him loses their grip on power.
I need to bring my bike inside and do a bit of work on it. I wish I had one of those bike stands that holds it off the ground so I can do what I need to do. I do have a stand that is used for people who want to ride their bike indoors so I might give that a try. One of my front derailleurs is not working properly so I'm not accessing the full range of gears available to me on any given day. Do I know what I'm doing? Hell, no.
Can I look it up on YouTube and follow along just enough to get the job done? I think so. I will say, and I was telling Nancy this yesterday, riding my bike during the winter months is really really hard on the bike. The dirt and accumulated grit threatens to grind everything to a halt. I'm just hoping to stay far enough above the fray so that I don't give in and just buy a new bike. There is a teaching moment here and I just need to get in touch with my inner mechanic in order to, as they say, git er done.
I'm wanting to purchase a new computer sometime soon. It's daunting to think about everything I need to consider before making that purchase. It's even more daunting to think about the process of getting the set up right so that it appears seamless to the end user (Nancy.) I'm also contemplating using my current computer as a server rather than retiring it outright. It can house all of my movies and shows in addition to years worth of accumulated home videos and pictures. I've never set up a server so that will be a challenge.
Do I wait to see Apple has to offer with their updates on their iMacs and Mac Pro's before making the purchase? Probably not. I'm not sure that either one of those devices is the right one for me. I no longer need the horsepower of a Mac Pro because I do little to no video processing and I've never been a fanboy of the iMacs since I'm liking to choose my own peripheral devices including monitors, mouses, and keyboards.
I can't say enough about my Mac Pro which I purchased back in 2018 and still runs like a charm although it has been a while since I've been able to update the system software given the outdated architecture of the machine. It will live on as a server forever and a day if I can figure out how to set it all up. Only once in the 11 years I've owned the machine did I have to bring it in for servicing when the screen went dark and I didn't have the tools or the resources to sort it out. It needed a new video card so that was an easy and somewhat inexpensive fix. Nancy asks me on occasion what she will do when I am no longer here to fix things. Where exactly does she think I'm going? Never mind.
I'm really liking the way the 2020 presidential election cycle is shaping up. Bernie Sanders is back in the race thinking that his platform of socialism is just what the democrats need to get them across the finish line come November 2020. There are just enough of his democrat competitors in the race who think as he does so I'm thinking they push the party further and further left and so far left that middle America will reject them outright when the time comes to cast their votes.
The moderate democrats, who are older and mostly white, don't stand a chance with this new base of leftists. Sanders has long pointed to leftist regimes the likes of which is currently in power in Venezuela as a political model to follow. That country is mere shadow of its former self and is falling and failing more and more with each passing day. Not a good hill to die on for the likes of Sanders and his democratic brethren.
The suburban housewives that handed many a win to democratic candidates in the 2018 mid terms are now split 50-50 on support of Trump's immigration policies including the building of a wall on our southern border. This is a seminal moment in the formulation of Trump's arranging an expanded base that will ensure that he gets reelected for another four years. The election of our first female president is going to have to wait. I do hope that the republicans are thinking ahead on the woman issue and god only knows we could use our own version of a Maggie Thatcher when the time comes. It damn well better not be that pissy little once never-Trumper, Nikki Haley. We can do better.
Speaking of socialists, I can't get this whole Amazon debacle out of my mind. New York City had competed against a slate of other states and won the bid as a potential location for a new Amazon headquarters. It promised thousands and thousands of jobs and billions of dollars in tax revenues to the ailing city. The governor of NY had just recently decried the shortfalls in revenues and the relocation of many of their more profitable businesses to points south and west where tax policies were more favorable for high income individuals and corporations. The new Amazon location was just the elixir that the city and state of New York needed to restore those lost sources of revenue.
But it was not to be. Amazon ran into a phalynx of leftists and socialist leaders led by none other than AOC who promised their constituents that they would fight the good fight if Amazon did not relent and give in to their demands. It was tantamount to extortion and Amazon was having none of it. Good for them. It wasn't enough that Amazon would and could single handedly bail out the state and city once they were up and running. AOC wanted her pound of political flesh and she was willing to queer the Amazon deal if that is what it took.
Little AOC and her band of socialists that voted her into office in 2018 wasted no time taking a victory lap when Amazon finally decided not to go through with the investment. Public officials who had worked so hard to secure the deal were stunned. In an ironic twist of fate for the leftists that run New York and embrace as they do "democratic" values, it is precisely the power of the few that can ultimately dictate which battles are won and which battles are lost. Cooler heads failed to prevail and that was that.
For those who are so proud of AOC and her accomplishments to date in Congress and on the streets in her district, I ask the question, "how do you like them apples"? If I had to guess, I would say she is destined to be a one term congresswoman who will return to her job as a bartender when all is said and done. To make matters worse, she commented in the wake of Amazon's decision to pull out that they could now use the $3 billion in tax incentives that were offered to Amazon to "better the lives of the people of NYC." Even with an economics degree from BU, she didn't understand that the $3 billion would only materialize if Amazon was up and running. It's beyond belief.
Seriously, Folks
17/02/19 06:53
I'll be running out to Trader Joe's soon. Nancy is making lentil soup for dinner and she need a few ingredients. I have red lentils, Pom tomatoes, and carrots on my list just to name a few. It's one of my favorite recipe's that Nancy makes and it's a favorite to be sure in the wintertime. Whether or not Evan is going to have it remains to be seen. I like to get to the store early before the crowds arrive. There isn't much traffic on Sunday mornings so I should be good to go. I might even get on the road before Nancy and Evan are out of bed.
I don't know if it's global warming or what but I think I'm starting to get spring fever. The sun is higher in the sky, the days are longer and longer, the light is streaming into our house at angles not seen in months, and everything is just brighter and infinitely more cheerful than it was just two weeks ago. It has been a relatively snowless winter and prospects for making up for those shortfalls seem to be less and less as Spring inches closer and closer on the calendar. We are four weeks away from the start of Spring so I guess we'll see.
I was telling Nancy that we should get her mom out of the house sometime soon. We've been going over to visit her for the better part of a year or two and we've not once taken her out for an outing of any kind. Not to dinner, not to lunch, not for a ride to see Christmas lights during the holiday season, not even to her favorite restaurant. The visitation itself takes a few hours between the travel time and the time we sit wth her in her apartment so that often seems to suffice. More often than not we are there around dinnertime so it isn't as though we don't have the opportunity. It's food for thought for sure.
She is happy to have the visit and Nancy is happy to be able to spend time, however briefly, with her mom. Maybe it's one of those time honored mother daughter things that men know to be true but can't fully appreciate or understand. I'm just along for the ride and I fall into the "know to be true" category but I think I get it.
I'm tasked on occasion while there with chores that are seemingly nothing more than Rorschach tests designed for hapless son-in-laws. Putting square pegs in square holes is a particular talent of mine so I generally rise to the occasion. Whether it be changing the settings on her timer so that her light in the living room comes on at the dusk and turns off in three hours time or maybe even assembling a wooden shoe rack for her that she purchased on the Home Shopping Network, I'm there with bells on. Some of the more cringeworthy requests, like putting batteries in flashlights, really make me wonder. I'm dutiful to a fault so don't ask questions.
Nancy may think that it is asking enough of me that I take the time out of my weekend to go visit her mom with her when I might prefer to be doing something else. I sometimes wonder if Nancy would go at all if I didn't join her but that is a story for another day. Of course she would is the right answer but in reality we'll never know. As long as I'm around to push into service, we'll be making the trip together. Adding more time to the mix to take her out to dinner or other might well be tantamount to pushing the envelope. Something to think about nonetheless.
While Evan's apartment deal is far from clinched, we're allowing ourselves the luxury of thinking that it is all going to work out for the better. He asked his mother the other day if she thought he was being too loud while laughing uproariously late into the night at one or more of his Netflix comedies. It was in anticipation of moving in to his own place with an eye towards keeping the peace by being a good neighbor.
I thought to myself that if he can't have a good laugh in his new place that maybe this place isn't the right place for him if you get my drift. Perhaps it's better to err on the side of being too quiet than the opposite and running the risk of incurring the ire of your closest neighbors. They need to be knocking at his door not with a scowl and a cudgel but with a smile and an ask for a cup of sugar, an invitation to dinner, or perhaps just to offer or request assistance.
What if this place doesn't work out for him? What then? Nancy and I looked around a home goods type store yesterday and it was fun to think about the things Evan might need when moving in to his new apartment. He'll need everything from an egg timer to shower curtains and this store had it all. The furniture in the store was moderately priced and it was only moderately comfortable. If you have to climb out of a couch, it probably isn't for you.
Would he like this particular couch? Maybe. Maybe not. He's talked about having a sectional couch, plenty of plates in the event he does any entertaining at all, and maybe a few folding chairs to accommodate unanticipated guests. That's not the Evan we know so it was sadly amusing to hear him say those words. It may be an aspirational Evan that we have yet to meet but hope, as they say, springs eternal.
Oh, and a white or light colored couch probably won't do. But these have to be his choices, not our choices. Colors, sizes, styles, fabrics, proportions, these are all his decisions to make. I think he relishes the prospect of having to pour over the various and sundry considerations so I guess we'll see. I also think we all need to take a deep breath until we have another chance to step into the unit to better assess what might fit where and we can go from there.
There is also the risk, I suppose, that this apartment thing is going to be a cluster fuck. He won't manage things well and it will spiral out of control. His dirty dishes will pile up, his clothes will go unwashed, his personal hygiene will take a turn for the worse, his delusions will go unchecked, his dietary needs will go unmet, his reclusiveness will become dire, and he will descend into a dark place where only bad things happen. God help us. God help our son.
I don't know if it's global warming or what but I think I'm starting to get spring fever. The sun is higher in the sky, the days are longer and longer, the light is streaming into our house at angles not seen in months, and everything is just brighter and infinitely more cheerful than it was just two weeks ago. It has been a relatively snowless winter and prospects for making up for those shortfalls seem to be less and less as Spring inches closer and closer on the calendar. We are four weeks away from the start of Spring so I guess we'll see.
I was telling Nancy that we should get her mom out of the house sometime soon. We've been going over to visit her for the better part of a year or two and we've not once taken her out for an outing of any kind. Not to dinner, not to lunch, not for a ride to see Christmas lights during the holiday season, not even to her favorite restaurant. The visitation itself takes a few hours between the travel time and the time we sit wth her in her apartment so that often seems to suffice. More often than not we are there around dinnertime so it isn't as though we don't have the opportunity. It's food for thought for sure.
She is happy to have the visit and Nancy is happy to be able to spend time, however briefly, with her mom. Maybe it's one of those time honored mother daughter things that men know to be true but can't fully appreciate or understand. I'm just along for the ride and I fall into the "know to be true" category but I think I get it.
I'm tasked on occasion while there with chores that are seemingly nothing more than Rorschach tests designed for hapless son-in-laws. Putting square pegs in square holes is a particular talent of mine so I generally rise to the occasion. Whether it be changing the settings on her timer so that her light in the living room comes on at the dusk and turns off in three hours time or maybe even assembling a wooden shoe rack for her that she purchased on the Home Shopping Network, I'm there with bells on. Some of the more cringeworthy requests, like putting batteries in flashlights, really make me wonder. I'm dutiful to a fault so don't ask questions.
Nancy may think that it is asking enough of me that I take the time out of my weekend to go visit her mom with her when I might prefer to be doing something else. I sometimes wonder if Nancy would go at all if I didn't join her but that is a story for another day. Of course she would is the right answer but in reality we'll never know. As long as I'm around to push into service, we'll be making the trip together. Adding more time to the mix to take her out to dinner or other might well be tantamount to pushing the envelope. Something to think about nonetheless.
While Evan's apartment deal is far from clinched, we're allowing ourselves the luxury of thinking that it is all going to work out for the better. He asked his mother the other day if she thought he was being too loud while laughing uproariously late into the night at one or more of his Netflix comedies. It was in anticipation of moving in to his own place with an eye towards keeping the peace by being a good neighbor.
I thought to myself that if he can't have a good laugh in his new place that maybe this place isn't the right place for him if you get my drift. Perhaps it's better to err on the side of being too quiet than the opposite and running the risk of incurring the ire of your closest neighbors. They need to be knocking at his door not with a scowl and a cudgel but with a smile and an ask for a cup of sugar, an invitation to dinner, or perhaps just to offer or request assistance.
What if this place doesn't work out for him? What then? Nancy and I looked around a home goods type store yesterday and it was fun to think about the things Evan might need when moving in to his new apartment. He'll need everything from an egg timer to shower curtains and this store had it all. The furniture in the store was moderately priced and it was only moderately comfortable. If you have to climb out of a couch, it probably isn't for you.
Would he like this particular couch? Maybe. Maybe not. He's talked about having a sectional couch, plenty of plates in the event he does any entertaining at all, and maybe a few folding chairs to accommodate unanticipated guests. That's not the Evan we know so it was sadly amusing to hear him say those words. It may be an aspirational Evan that we have yet to meet but hope, as they say, springs eternal.
Oh, and a white or light colored couch probably won't do. But these have to be his choices, not our choices. Colors, sizes, styles, fabrics, proportions, these are all his decisions to make. I think he relishes the prospect of having to pour over the various and sundry considerations so I guess we'll see. I also think we all need to take a deep breath until we have another chance to step into the unit to better assess what might fit where and we can go from there.
There is also the risk, I suppose, that this apartment thing is going to be a cluster fuck. He won't manage things well and it will spiral out of control. His dirty dishes will pile up, his clothes will go unwashed, his personal hygiene will take a turn for the worse, his delusions will go unchecked, his dietary needs will go unmet, his reclusiveness will become dire, and he will descend into a dark place where only bad things happen. God help us. God help our son.
Miles To Go Before We Sleep
12/02/19 07:40
Having dental work is never fun but it is more often than not just necessary. It's also a lot less fun when the work required is more involved than originally planned and it goes downhill from there when your dentist tells you that you need to take it easy for about six weeks after the surgery. Say what?
I'm a week in and I'm doing my best to stay away from steak and tacos per his orders. I'm under strict orders as well not to chew on that side of my mouth lest I dislodge or disrupt the site putting me back at square one.
I'm trying to be a good patient and my follow-ups scheduled every few days are designed to encourage me to stay the course for the duration. On top of it all, I'm not to do any "aggressive" exercising for a period of time. That may prove to be more difficult than eating nothing but humus and cottage cheese for the remaining five weeks.
I won't ride my bike because that qualifies as an unnecessary risk. One fall and it's all over. I asked if I might be able to use the treadmill at yesterday's follow-up and they agreed that as long as I don't run on the treadmill that that should be fine. Did I mention that I don't as a rule eat steak or taco's?
One suggestion or recommendation is that I prepare my food with a blender before consuming. The blender business may be a bridge too far. This is serious stuff, folks. But six weeks takes me into the middle or latter part of March. Winter will for all intents and purposes be over by then. Between now and then we will no doubt have a snow storm or two that may require my involvement using heavy machinery.
Again, had I known how involved this surgery was going to be I might have put it off until such a time where it made more sense to do it. Just such a storm is coming in the next day or two and I've asked Nancy if she wouldn't mind using the snowblower to clear the snow. Evan can lend a hand as well if he's in the mood.
Speaking of the Ev-man, he and I drove to Concord, NH yesterday and then to South Portland, ME where we ultimately delivered paperwork related to his prospective rental unit. He was game for the ride so we got an early start and we were back home by two in the afternoon.
Nancy asked in a text while Evan and I were on the final leg home if I'd met with the person in South Portland that she had been talking to on the phone as of late and I told her that I had not. The receptionist told me that she was going to stick the paperwork in the appropriate mail slot and there was never so much as a suggestion that I might be able to, nor would it be necessary to, meet with Nancy's contact. And now, we wait.
Evan and I chatted quite a bit about what he might need if and when he moves in to his new place. I only say "if" because we're still in the process of providing this and that and there's yet more to be done. His questions were good and to the point. How will I get internet? Will I rent or buy a modem? Can I get by with just a laptop or will I need to buy a desktop at some point?
Will I need the full complement of services from the provider or can I get by with internet only? You will still pick up the bill for my monthly cell service. Right? Oh, and I suppose I can put in my order at Walmart and they can bring it out to the car. Will I have to get out of the car when they bring out my order?
Having arrived in South Portland shortly after 1 in the afternoon, we were immediately struck by the number of seemingly homeless people wandering around. While stopped at one intersection, we counted 4 or 5 vagrants at even and odd intervals around the perimeter of our car and all within a stone's throw away. As we drove deeper and deeper into the bowels of the downtown area it became increasingly desperate and sadly obvious that the city had a serious and metastatic homeless problem.
The population from all appearances seemed young, drug addicted, directionless, and hungry. It is perhaps a by product of the opiate scourge that we hear so much about these days. There is no doubt a mental health component and then there are the disaffected and economically displaced.
There was a homeless shelter within a block of where I parked and while I didn't feel threatened one way or another as I walked around the corner to my destination I did feel an incredible empathy for those whose lives put them in this terrible place. All I could think of was, there but for the grace of God go I (and Evan.)
Having provided the requested references just yesterday, and yes, references still matter, Evan is now waiting for them to contact him with an appointment to see the apartment this week. Everything else has passed muster as far as we know although the final approval has not yet been given. Who knows. He may not like the place once he sees what he's getting in to. He needs to be reminded that it is a step in the right direction. You can't live with your parents forever for chrissakes.
I do want to commend Evan though for lending a hand with the job of clearing the driveway after this latest little snow storm. I can't be sure but I think he may have had a drink or two prior to pitching in and joining the job already in progress. Maybe he needed to gird himself against his demons who might have decided that it was not in his best interest to get involved.
Once he was in command of the snow blower he began to weave erratic patterns in the three to four inches of freshly fallen snow on the driveway. For someone who had never operated the snow blower previously, these patterns may have made sense to him.
It's not how I would have done it but he's not one to listen carefully when I try to tell him something. He learns quickly when he wants to and throws caution to the wind when he doesn't. There is also no right or wrong way to clear a driveway so that needs to be said as well.
I had warned him against operating the snow blower with his bathrobe on but I'm not sure he took my guidance to heart. All of it, in fact, fell on deaf ears. He can wear what he damn well pleases but you typically don't wear things that might get caught up in the machinery when doing what he was doing.
He gets extra points for having a coat on over his bathrobe but loses those very same points for wearing mismatched wool gloves. His footwear under the circumstances, where much of the snow had turned to slush near the bottom of the driveway, was sensible and appropriate. Hey, those are my boots!
I'm a week in and I'm doing my best to stay away from steak and tacos per his orders. I'm under strict orders as well not to chew on that side of my mouth lest I dislodge or disrupt the site putting me back at square one.
I'm trying to be a good patient and my follow-ups scheduled every few days are designed to encourage me to stay the course for the duration. On top of it all, I'm not to do any "aggressive" exercising for a period of time. That may prove to be more difficult than eating nothing but humus and cottage cheese for the remaining five weeks.
I won't ride my bike because that qualifies as an unnecessary risk. One fall and it's all over. I asked if I might be able to use the treadmill at yesterday's follow-up and they agreed that as long as I don't run on the treadmill that that should be fine. Did I mention that I don't as a rule eat steak or taco's?
One suggestion or recommendation is that I prepare my food with a blender before consuming. The blender business may be a bridge too far. This is serious stuff, folks. But six weeks takes me into the middle or latter part of March. Winter will for all intents and purposes be over by then. Between now and then we will no doubt have a snow storm or two that may require my involvement using heavy machinery.
Again, had I known how involved this surgery was going to be I might have put it off until such a time where it made more sense to do it. Just such a storm is coming in the next day or two and I've asked Nancy if she wouldn't mind using the snowblower to clear the snow. Evan can lend a hand as well if he's in the mood.
Speaking of the Ev-man, he and I drove to Concord, NH yesterday and then to South Portland, ME where we ultimately delivered paperwork related to his prospective rental unit. He was game for the ride so we got an early start and we were back home by two in the afternoon.
Nancy asked in a text while Evan and I were on the final leg home if I'd met with the person in South Portland that she had been talking to on the phone as of late and I told her that I had not. The receptionist told me that she was going to stick the paperwork in the appropriate mail slot and there was never so much as a suggestion that I might be able to, nor would it be necessary to, meet with Nancy's contact. And now, we wait.
Evan and I chatted quite a bit about what he might need if and when he moves in to his new place. I only say "if" because we're still in the process of providing this and that and there's yet more to be done. His questions were good and to the point. How will I get internet? Will I rent or buy a modem? Can I get by with just a laptop or will I need to buy a desktop at some point?
Will I need the full complement of services from the provider or can I get by with internet only? You will still pick up the bill for my monthly cell service. Right? Oh, and I suppose I can put in my order at Walmart and they can bring it out to the car. Will I have to get out of the car when they bring out my order?
Having arrived in South Portland shortly after 1 in the afternoon, we were immediately struck by the number of seemingly homeless people wandering around. While stopped at one intersection, we counted 4 or 5 vagrants at even and odd intervals around the perimeter of our car and all within a stone's throw away. As we drove deeper and deeper into the bowels of the downtown area it became increasingly desperate and sadly obvious that the city had a serious and metastatic homeless problem.
The population from all appearances seemed young, drug addicted, directionless, and hungry. It is perhaps a by product of the opiate scourge that we hear so much about these days. There is no doubt a mental health component and then there are the disaffected and economically displaced.
There was a homeless shelter within a block of where I parked and while I didn't feel threatened one way or another as I walked around the corner to my destination I did feel an incredible empathy for those whose lives put them in this terrible place. All I could think of was, there but for the grace of God go I (and Evan.)
Having provided the requested references just yesterday, and yes, references still matter, Evan is now waiting for them to contact him with an appointment to see the apartment this week. Everything else has passed muster as far as we know although the final approval has not yet been given. Who knows. He may not like the place once he sees what he's getting in to. He needs to be reminded that it is a step in the right direction. You can't live with your parents forever for chrissakes.
I do want to commend Evan though for lending a hand with the job of clearing the driveway after this latest little snow storm. I can't be sure but I think he may have had a drink or two prior to pitching in and joining the job already in progress. Maybe he needed to gird himself against his demons who might have decided that it was not in his best interest to get involved.
Once he was in command of the snow blower he began to weave erratic patterns in the three to four inches of freshly fallen snow on the driveway. For someone who had never operated the snow blower previously, these patterns may have made sense to him.
It's not how I would have done it but he's not one to listen carefully when I try to tell him something. He learns quickly when he wants to and throws caution to the wind when he doesn't. There is also no right or wrong way to clear a driveway so that needs to be said as well.
I had warned him against operating the snow blower with his bathrobe on but I'm not sure he took my guidance to heart. All of it, in fact, fell on deaf ears. He can wear what he damn well pleases but you typically don't wear things that might get caught up in the machinery when doing what he was doing.
He gets extra points for having a coat on over his bathrobe but loses those very same points for wearing mismatched wool gloves. His footwear under the circumstances, where much of the snow had turned to slush near the bottom of the driveway, was sensible and appropriate. Hey, those are my boots!
God Willing
09/02/19 06:56
The third time is the charm. Or, should I say, the Lord works in mysterious ways? It may have been a Goldilocks deal all along but we just didn't know it. The first place he looked at wasn't quite right. The second place he looked at was good but had some serious drawbacks. The third place, in a different township altogether, seems to be just right. Just when any and all prospects of finding a place for Evan seemed to be dwindling by the day we got this lovely return phone call from a rental agent that Nancy has been following up with over the last month or so.
We have a few things to attend to before anyone gets to sign on a dotted line but they seem to be nothing more than the usual things one has to deal with when renting a new apartment. You know, things like income verification, a criminal background check, etc. They're wasting their time if they go looking for his footprint in the social media space. He has none so there is nothing to worry about there. Nothing to worry about anywhere really. That doesn't mean we're not going to worry about him if and when he does move in to his new place.
Weather permitting, we'll not concern ourselves with the pace of snail mail by driving here and there while delivering the necessary documents to their rightful destination(s) in order to move the process forward. Here's hoping we don't seem too eager if and when we show up on someone's doorstep unexpectedly. You know what they say about first impressions. It doesn't take much to get on someone's bad side these days. We just don't want to leave anything to chance.
Maybe there is a reason the first two places didn't work out, I told Evan. This is where the Baby Jesus comes in. You're on your bloody knees day in and day out asking, praying, and begging for his assistance. Not literally, mind you, but nonetheless. A little fucking divine intervention would be nice. I want to be careful with my language here because we're not done doing what we need to do. No need to get on the big guy's bad side while we work our way through the process. He could nix this in a heartbeat and we would be none the wiser.
Clearly, the listings were drying up and time was running out by the time the rental agent returned Nancy's call. It was Nancy's persistence in following up with her that made the lot of us think that her calls might well not be returned. The squeaky wheel would not get the grease and we would be shit out of luck. We just weren't sure anymore. The tone of the agent's voice when Nancy last followed up was one of impatience and annoyance and if Nancy sounded exasperated or pleading it was because she was calling and hoping against hope. That can sound a lot like desperation to the untrained ear.
Now that they've called back we are all singing Nancy's praises for being as persistent as she has been. I'm not convinced that there wasn't divine intervention but I want to give Nancy her due so will keep my own counsel on such matters. Neither Evan nor I had the persistence or wherewithal to get the job done. While he and I were perfectly fine with leaving fate to decided the outcome after placing a call here and there, Nancy was on the phone dialing, cajoling, charming, inquiring, persisting, and then following up and doing it all over again.
I assured Nancy that the fact that the return call was for Evan and not her and that was a good sign. It was his name on the paperwork after all so why wouldn't they reach out to him? Had they connected the dots between Nancy's calls and Evan's paperwork and that was why they were now calling? Evan and I sat in the front room while Nancy worked her magic on the phone with the rental agent behind closed doors.
Evan knew little of the history or timeline of his mother's inquiries so after taking the call at 9:01 a.m. on a Monday morning he handed the phone over to her and he and I waited to hear the hopefully good news that his application was now under consideration. We still were not sure that they weren't simply returning Nancy's calls to say that he was out of the running. The longer the call lasted the more hopeful and excited Evan and I became.
What we hadn't told Evan, because we didn't want him getting his hopes up, was that the return call had come in the previous Friday afternoon at roughly 3:00 p.m. We were out and about so we missed the call. The phone message itself was nothing more than a request to speak to Evan.
Nancy didn't notice the message until 5:01 p.m. so she called back immediately and left a message when no one picked up the phone that we would call back first thing Monday. She and I spent the weekend feeling good about things and we even went so far as to feel cautiously optimistic but nothing more. The less we talked about it the better.
With the lot of us feeling better about the direction that things were taking after Nancy's conversation with the rental agent, we piled in the car and drove over to the apartment complex for a closer look. Which of the three or four buildings on the property was it exactly? Would we be able to tell which apartment was empty looking up as we were from the parking lot? We felt good about the fact that the property was recently built. Everything would be new; No nicotine stained walls; No scruffy carpeting; Nothing in need of repair; and no, smoking is not allowed.
Everything from the air conditioning to the heating should work flawlessly. Parking seemed ample but was not otherwise designated. Evan thought that designated spots might be possible for a price. We inquired about their pet policy of a fellow who was coming out of the building carrying boxes and he thought they might allow small pets if any. We saw two small Pomeranian types being walked around in our time there so the likelihood of issues with allergies and such seemed maybe minimal at best.
Nancy had been assured that despite the fact that the apartment was a studio, and we were hoping for a one bedroom but think an upgrade is probably possible after a year or so, the apartment had three windows and was really very nice. There were several possible three window configurations looking up at the building as we were so that didn't help in trying to determine which apartment might ultimately belong to Evan. Unlike the other buildings in the complex, this building did not have any units with a balcony.
Nancy was told that his apartment was a third or fourth floor unit and one that would look out over the parking lot so we focused our attention accordingly. The late winter afternoon light reflected brightly off the exterior of the building and Nancy was pleased when considering the fact that Evan would be living in a bright and sunny, albeit small, apartment.
So now we are likely to have to think about what he is going to need just to move in. We will no doubt be forced to disentangle his belongings from our own in addition to what he thinks he might like to commandeer from the home we have jointly shared for the last few years and then going back to his childhood. I suppose if I have any regrets it might be that we didn't expect more of him while living in our home over the past few years. These are all things that he will now have to do for himself. Never underestimate the resourcefulness of a millennial, we're told.
God willing is what I say.
We have a few things to attend to before anyone gets to sign on a dotted line but they seem to be nothing more than the usual things one has to deal with when renting a new apartment. You know, things like income verification, a criminal background check, etc. They're wasting their time if they go looking for his footprint in the social media space. He has none so there is nothing to worry about there. Nothing to worry about anywhere really. That doesn't mean we're not going to worry about him if and when he does move in to his new place.
Weather permitting, we'll not concern ourselves with the pace of snail mail by driving here and there while delivering the necessary documents to their rightful destination(s) in order to move the process forward. Here's hoping we don't seem too eager if and when we show up on someone's doorstep unexpectedly. You know what they say about first impressions. It doesn't take much to get on someone's bad side these days. We just don't want to leave anything to chance.
Maybe there is a reason the first two places didn't work out, I told Evan. This is where the Baby Jesus comes in. You're on your bloody knees day in and day out asking, praying, and begging for his assistance. Not literally, mind you, but nonetheless. A little fucking divine intervention would be nice. I want to be careful with my language here because we're not done doing what we need to do. No need to get on the big guy's bad side while we work our way through the process. He could nix this in a heartbeat and we would be none the wiser.
Clearly, the listings were drying up and time was running out by the time the rental agent returned Nancy's call. It was Nancy's persistence in following up with her that made the lot of us think that her calls might well not be returned. The squeaky wheel would not get the grease and we would be shit out of luck. We just weren't sure anymore. The tone of the agent's voice when Nancy last followed up was one of impatience and annoyance and if Nancy sounded exasperated or pleading it was because she was calling and hoping against hope. That can sound a lot like desperation to the untrained ear.
Now that they've called back we are all singing Nancy's praises for being as persistent as she has been. I'm not convinced that there wasn't divine intervention but I want to give Nancy her due so will keep my own counsel on such matters. Neither Evan nor I had the persistence or wherewithal to get the job done. While he and I were perfectly fine with leaving fate to decided the outcome after placing a call here and there, Nancy was on the phone dialing, cajoling, charming, inquiring, persisting, and then following up and doing it all over again.
I assured Nancy that the fact that the return call was for Evan and not her and that was a good sign. It was his name on the paperwork after all so why wouldn't they reach out to him? Had they connected the dots between Nancy's calls and Evan's paperwork and that was why they were now calling? Evan and I sat in the front room while Nancy worked her magic on the phone with the rental agent behind closed doors.
Evan knew little of the history or timeline of his mother's inquiries so after taking the call at 9:01 a.m. on a Monday morning he handed the phone over to her and he and I waited to hear the hopefully good news that his application was now under consideration. We still were not sure that they weren't simply returning Nancy's calls to say that he was out of the running. The longer the call lasted the more hopeful and excited Evan and I became.
What we hadn't told Evan, because we didn't want him getting his hopes up, was that the return call had come in the previous Friday afternoon at roughly 3:00 p.m. We were out and about so we missed the call. The phone message itself was nothing more than a request to speak to Evan.
Nancy didn't notice the message until 5:01 p.m. so she called back immediately and left a message when no one picked up the phone that we would call back first thing Monday. She and I spent the weekend feeling good about things and we even went so far as to feel cautiously optimistic but nothing more. The less we talked about it the better.
With the lot of us feeling better about the direction that things were taking after Nancy's conversation with the rental agent, we piled in the car and drove over to the apartment complex for a closer look. Which of the three or four buildings on the property was it exactly? Would we be able to tell which apartment was empty looking up as we were from the parking lot? We felt good about the fact that the property was recently built. Everything would be new; No nicotine stained walls; No scruffy carpeting; Nothing in need of repair; and no, smoking is not allowed.
Everything from the air conditioning to the heating should work flawlessly. Parking seemed ample but was not otherwise designated. Evan thought that designated spots might be possible for a price. We inquired about their pet policy of a fellow who was coming out of the building carrying boxes and he thought they might allow small pets if any. We saw two small Pomeranian types being walked around in our time there so the likelihood of issues with allergies and such seemed maybe minimal at best.
Nancy had been assured that despite the fact that the apartment was a studio, and we were hoping for a one bedroom but think an upgrade is probably possible after a year or so, the apartment had three windows and was really very nice. There were several possible three window configurations looking up at the building as we were so that didn't help in trying to determine which apartment might ultimately belong to Evan. Unlike the other buildings in the complex, this building did not have any units with a balcony.
Nancy was told that his apartment was a third or fourth floor unit and one that would look out over the parking lot so we focused our attention accordingly. The late winter afternoon light reflected brightly off the exterior of the building and Nancy was pleased when considering the fact that Evan would be living in a bright and sunny, albeit small, apartment.
So now we are likely to have to think about what he is going to need just to move in. We will no doubt be forced to disentangle his belongings from our own in addition to what he thinks he might like to commandeer from the home we have jointly shared for the last few years and then going back to his childhood. I suppose if I have any regrets it might be that we didn't expect more of him while living in our home over the past few years. These are all things that he will now have to do for himself. Never underestimate the resourcefulness of a millennial, we're told.
God willing is what I say.
All For Naught
05/02/19 07:21
I'm at a crossroads with that old Volvo of mine. It's been a good car but she is nearing the end of her days based purely on years of service. She has been relegated to local trips here and there with little or no highway time. When I take her to the local recycling center I leave her running near the swap shop so as not to run the risk of having a hard time getting her restarted.
Signage at the center requests that cars entering the center turn off their engines while using the facilities. I'm far enough off the beaten track when parking near the swap shop where those rules are no longer applicable. It's but a short stroll to the receptacle drop off areas within the center so it's not a big deal. Carrying two or three bags at a time I can usually get the job done fairly quickly.
I need to add air to the tires usually once a month since there is leakage around the rims which is not unusual in older cars. I used to bring it to a local gas station where I would throw $.50 in an air machine in order to fill the tires but have more recently been using a small air compressor at home which just seems more convenient. In the last couple of days I noticed that the heater isn't throwing off any air when using the controls on the dash. This is a problem.
There is plenty of winter left despite the prognostications of Punxsutawney Phil where he did not see his shadow. Without a defroster I could be in trouble even on short drives. I either find a solution on Google or YouTube or the car gets recycled. The fix I think it needs is a $30 part but that is pure conjecture on my part. What if that doesn't work? Am I willing to spend a couple of hundred dollars to have it diagnosed and a couple hundred more to have it fixed? Probably not. I'll need to think about that a little more.
I finally made it to the gym this past week after renewing my membership towards the end of last year. I've been biking right along given the decent weather and lack of snow so haven't had a need to go to the gym. Riding in the colder temperatures hasn't been a problem either so it's all been good. Now that I'm back to the gym it's nice to have a different sort of workout. Yesterday, I both went to the gym and biked in the afternoon since temperatures were well into the fifties. It was absolutely springlike here on the coast so you make the best of things and I did.
It's not easy getting into shape. If you expect to be a lean mean fighting machine you need to work on it day in and day out. Cut out the sugar and stop eating the things you know are not now and never will be good for you. Easier said than done as you can well imagine. This phase, which for me usually begins around this time of year, goes through the summer and into the early Fall. I don't know what we're going to do with all the leftover food we bought for our Super Bowl extravaganza including sour cream, cream cheese, chips, dips, ice cream and god only knows what else but it all has to go. Those items are no longer on the menu.
I'm really struggling with this latest book I'm reading. It's a good book written by a terrific author, Edith Wharton. I was telling Nancy that Edith's mother forbade her to read novels until she was married. Can you imagine? Ms. Wharton was also the first woman to win a Pulitzer prize in the early 1900's for literature for her book, "The Age of Innocence." I have yet to read that book but it is high on my list of things to read next. Maybe the word "struggling" is too strong a word. I'm enjoying it but it isn't keeping my attention for whatever reason.
I'm looking forward to watching Trump's State of the Union address tonight. I'm hearing that he will be striking a conciliatory note and will urge the disparate groups and various factions on the left and right to join forces for the betterment of the country. It will be an aspirational speech and one which has been given by every president going back 250 years. Truth be told, I would rather he read the riot act to the leftists in the democrat party and call them out for their anti-American rhetoric and activism on everything from abortion rights to immigration.
I've seen Trump's list of invitees to the State of the Union and it includes a wide range of people with interesting stories to tell. He will tell those stories with sometimes gut wrenching effectiveness while calling attention to the individual or individuals who are likely sitting, sobbing, and sometimes saluting from the gallery. These are stories that the American people need to hear. They need to see the faces behind the stories as a reminder of the things we as a nation have failed to do and what the consequences of our collective action and inaction actually look like.
For the want of a better barrier along our southern border, we will hear about the victims of senseless violence and we will as a nation mourn their loss. For the want of more humane abortion policy (or no policy at all) we will hear about policies advanced by democrats that allow the killing of our children up to and including the moment they come into the world. For the want of better bullying policies in our school systems we will hear about the senseless suicides and struggles of those affected. For the want of a free society that ensures equal opportunity for all, Trump will declare as only he can that we will never be a Socialist society.
I'm filling in the blanks after the fact a little bit here since Trump's State of the Union has come and gone. That is the danger I run into when I sit on these posts rather than publishing them right away. That's fine. A little cleanup here and there is always a good thing. Whether it be the turn of a phrase or a run-on sentence that needs to be chopped up, I'm happy to do that. I rarely go back and read these things once their posted so who cares is a question I might want to ask myself. Nancy never reads them and I'm not sure Evan even knows that I post these things much less write them. It's all for naught, I suppose.
Today is day four on my sugar free diet. I can literally feel the pounds melting off. It's like the fat cells anticipated my going on this diet and they now have nowhere to hide. Come out in the open you little bastards! It's always a tricky balance between getting the nutrition and calories my body require while staying away from the wrong kinds of foods.
I was telling Nancy that the there are two kinds of cottage cheeses that we keep on hand. One has 5 grams of sugar and the other has two grams of sugar. The containers look similar so it was a surprise to me when I compared the labels. I guess you could say that a this is not a sugar free diet in the literal sense but it dramatically reduces my sugar intake so it's a good place to start.
And it's a good thing I like eggs since there are plenty of them on the sample two-week meal plan I'm following. Did I mention that it calls for two cups of vegetables for both lunch and dinner? I never get enough of those anyway so that's fine. Maybe I'll make a ratatouille dish this week.
Signage at the center requests that cars entering the center turn off their engines while using the facilities. I'm far enough off the beaten track when parking near the swap shop where those rules are no longer applicable. It's but a short stroll to the receptacle drop off areas within the center so it's not a big deal. Carrying two or three bags at a time I can usually get the job done fairly quickly.
I need to add air to the tires usually once a month since there is leakage around the rims which is not unusual in older cars. I used to bring it to a local gas station where I would throw $.50 in an air machine in order to fill the tires but have more recently been using a small air compressor at home which just seems more convenient. In the last couple of days I noticed that the heater isn't throwing off any air when using the controls on the dash. This is a problem.
There is plenty of winter left despite the prognostications of Punxsutawney Phil where he did not see his shadow. Without a defroster I could be in trouble even on short drives. I either find a solution on Google or YouTube or the car gets recycled. The fix I think it needs is a $30 part but that is pure conjecture on my part. What if that doesn't work? Am I willing to spend a couple of hundred dollars to have it diagnosed and a couple hundred more to have it fixed? Probably not. I'll need to think about that a little more.
I finally made it to the gym this past week after renewing my membership towards the end of last year. I've been biking right along given the decent weather and lack of snow so haven't had a need to go to the gym. Riding in the colder temperatures hasn't been a problem either so it's all been good. Now that I'm back to the gym it's nice to have a different sort of workout. Yesterday, I both went to the gym and biked in the afternoon since temperatures were well into the fifties. It was absolutely springlike here on the coast so you make the best of things and I did.
It's not easy getting into shape. If you expect to be a lean mean fighting machine you need to work on it day in and day out. Cut out the sugar and stop eating the things you know are not now and never will be good for you. Easier said than done as you can well imagine. This phase, which for me usually begins around this time of year, goes through the summer and into the early Fall. I don't know what we're going to do with all the leftover food we bought for our Super Bowl extravaganza including sour cream, cream cheese, chips, dips, ice cream and god only knows what else but it all has to go. Those items are no longer on the menu.
I'm really struggling with this latest book I'm reading. It's a good book written by a terrific author, Edith Wharton. I was telling Nancy that Edith's mother forbade her to read novels until she was married. Can you imagine? Ms. Wharton was also the first woman to win a Pulitzer prize in the early 1900's for literature for her book, "The Age of Innocence." I have yet to read that book but it is high on my list of things to read next. Maybe the word "struggling" is too strong a word. I'm enjoying it but it isn't keeping my attention for whatever reason.
I'm looking forward to watching Trump's State of the Union address tonight. I'm hearing that he will be striking a conciliatory note and will urge the disparate groups and various factions on the left and right to join forces for the betterment of the country. It will be an aspirational speech and one which has been given by every president going back 250 years. Truth be told, I would rather he read the riot act to the leftists in the democrat party and call them out for their anti-American rhetoric and activism on everything from abortion rights to immigration.
I've seen Trump's list of invitees to the State of the Union and it includes a wide range of people with interesting stories to tell. He will tell those stories with sometimes gut wrenching effectiveness while calling attention to the individual or individuals who are likely sitting, sobbing, and sometimes saluting from the gallery. These are stories that the American people need to hear. They need to see the faces behind the stories as a reminder of the things we as a nation have failed to do and what the consequences of our collective action and inaction actually look like.
For the want of a better barrier along our southern border, we will hear about the victims of senseless violence and we will as a nation mourn their loss. For the want of more humane abortion policy (or no policy at all) we will hear about policies advanced by democrats that allow the killing of our children up to and including the moment they come into the world. For the want of better bullying policies in our school systems we will hear about the senseless suicides and struggles of those affected. For the want of a free society that ensures equal opportunity for all, Trump will declare as only he can that we will never be a Socialist society.
I'm filling in the blanks after the fact a little bit here since Trump's State of the Union has come and gone. That is the danger I run into when I sit on these posts rather than publishing them right away. That's fine. A little cleanup here and there is always a good thing. Whether it be the turn of a phrase or a run-on sentence that needs to be chopped up, I'm happy to do that. I rarely go back and read these things once their posted so who cares is a question I might want to ask myself. Nancy never reads them and I'm not sure Evan even knows that I post these things much less write them. It's all for naught, I suppose.
Today is day four on my sugar free diet. I can literally feel the pounds melting off. It's like the fat cells anticipated my going on this diet and they now have nowhere to hide. Come out in the open you little bastards! It's always a tricky balance between getting the nutrition and calories my body require while staying away from the wrong kinds of foods.
I was telling Nancy that the there are two kinds of cottage cheeses that we keep on hand. One has 5 grams of sugar and the other has two grams of sugar. The containers look similar so it was a surprise to me when I compared the labels. I guess you could say that a this is not a sugar free diet in the literal sense but it dramatically reduces my sugar intake so it's a good place to start.
And it's a good thing I like eggs since there are plenty of them on the sample two-week meal plan I'm following. Did I mention that it calls for two cups of vegetables for both lunch and dinner? I never get enough of those anyway so that's fine. Maybe I'll make a ratatouille dish this week.
What Would Da Say?
29/01/19 06:46
I see that Evan called me last night as I'm checking my phone this morning. He went off around 6 or so saying that he was probably going to stop and get some gas for the car somewhere and that he expected to return shortly. Where was I when he called? Why did I not heard the phone ring? I occasionally turn the ringer off but that was not the problem. I guess it couldn't have been too urgent since he didn't call any of our other numbers when I didn't answer my phone.
Maybe he was standing outside and it was too cold to follow up. Maybe he called our other numbers and no one answered those either. Maybe he fixed whatever it was that needed fixing and went along on his merry way. I think it couldn't have been much later that he arrived back at the house and without a word went directly to his room. I suspect that if I ask him today why he called last night he will ignore the question or change the subject. It's not important really but I am curious. He is just as likely to call me as he is his mother but who he calls sometimes tells you why he's calling.
He has this peculiar little problem when it comes to filling the gas tank in his mother's car. I'm not saying that is why he was calling but the timing of his call would suggest that that might well be the case. The shutoff mechanism on the gas pumps at the local Irving station seem to be extra sensitive. If you don't insert the nozzle just so it will turn off almost unexpectedly once you start to pump the gas. You end up inserting it, pulling it out a bit, and doing that time and time again until you hit the sweet spot at which point you can feel free to walk away, check the oil, clean the windshield, etc.
I've learned over time to insert the nozzle all the way and then pull it out of the tank just far enough so that the lip of the rubber gasket near the handle rests on the surface of the car instead of covering the inner gas tank lid. I don't have that problem with our other vehicles so prefer to think of it as an issue that is unique to Nancy's car.
I've not had that conversation with Evan as yet but probably should. Whether or not he has the patience to listen and learn is another question. My fear is that he will give up out of exasperation and for the sake of an easy fix he will drive away and into the night with a less than full tank of gas. I take it upon myself to check the oil in that car with some frequency since it has always used more oil than one might expect. I showed Evan how to do that check once but I don't know that I can rely on him to stay on top of it. Oh ye of little faith.
Da would be rolling over in his grave if he knew about Evan's trials and tribulations with the car. All he ever wanted for Evan was that he be a good citizen and he told him so with great regularity. Da also had a wealth of knowledge to share with a grandson who was willing to listen but I think Da passed away before Evan ever got around to asking the questions that needed to be asked.
If I knew anything about Da it was that he was downright religious when it came to maintenance about this that and the other thing and you couldn't help but learn from him. At a minimum, he taught us all to be just a little bit more curious about things we didn't know anything about. He was an engineer by training and there are times even now after he's been gone for several years where I wish he was still there to answer a question or two.
While Evan seems not to have inherited his grandfathers hairline or his penchant for all thing mechanical, his standing as a good citizen thus far anyway would likely make Da proud.
Where I might have changed my own tires or even my oil in the past, Evan wouldn't hesitate to call AAA today if he had a problem on the road. They have come to his rescue a couple of times in recent memory and he was so traumatized by one of those rescues that he swore he'd never ever drive that car again. If we as his parents learned anything from that experience, it was that Evan is and can be resourceful but we still have a responsibility to make sure that we take the necessary precautions as long as he is driving our vehicles.
As I think back on it now, we were certainly delighted and thankfully so that he was able to navigate the intricacies of the event without suffering a sensory overload or other. There are times when you just have to go with the flow. That's hard to do when you're broken down on the side of the highway in a car that has smoke pouring from beneath the hood, red lights on the dashboard flashing on and off, cars whizzing by a mere few inches away seemingly at warp speed, and with no roadmap other than your own frazzled and frayed imagination to guide you.
So when Mrs G sat across the room from Nancy and I while rocking back and forth slowly but deliberately in her chair over this past weekend while mimicking the sound of her car battery turning over ever so s-l-o-w-l-y, only to mention that her battery passed inspection but by the slimmest of margins, I held my breath waiting for her to ask the most obvious of questions. But she never did.
I thought to myself, what would Da say? What would Da do? One thing is for sure. He would have taken care of it. There would be no wondering and waiting for something to fail. Any engineer worth his salt took Entropy 101 in his or her first year. There would be no unpredictability on Da's watch. When I finally got around to asking whether or not she thought she might want to have her battery replaced when the car was in for servicing I was surprised to hear her say "no."
Her response was so un-Da like that I wasn't sure that I heard her at first. Every other aspect of the car's maintenance was looked after as Da might were he still alive. But this. This was different. This was throwing caution to the wind. This was taking an unnecessary risk. This was rolling the dice in a way that was uncharacteristic of Mrs G.
Perhaps a little risk taking is her way of fighting back against the overwhelming orderliness that has become her existence at Exeter Wood. Flirting with your nemesis in a way that inspires life can be intriguing in an otherwise whirlwind of sameness and it behooves one not to muster the necessary courage to take a step in that direction when the opportunity presents itself. It's akin perhaps to purposely leaving your door unlocked overnight or taking someone else's dinner when the bags are otherwise clearly marked with the name of the recipient living in close proximity to you at the Woods.
What would Da say? What would Da do?
Maybe he was standing outside and it was too cold to follow up. Maybe he called our other numbers and no one answered those either. Maybe he fixed whatever it was that needed fixing and went along on his merry way. I think it couldn't have been much later that he arrived back at the house and without a word went directly to his room. I suspect that if I ask him today why he called last night he will ignore the question or change the subject. It's not important really but I am curious. He is just as likely to call me as he is his mother but who he calls sometimes tells you why he's calling.
He has this peculiar little problem when it comes to filling the gas tank in his mother's car. I'm not saying that is why he was calling but the timing of his call would suggest that that might well be the case. The shutoff mechanism on the gas pumps at the local Irving station seem to be extra sensitive. If you don't insert the nozzle just so it will turn off almost unexpectedly once you start to pump the gas. You end up inserting it, pulling it out a bit, and doing that time and time again until you hit the sweet spot at which point you can feel free to walk away, check the oil, clean the windshield, etc.
I've learned over time to insert the nozzle all the way and then pull it out of the tank just far enough so that the lip of the rubber gasket near the handle rests on the surface of the car instead of covering the inner gas tank lid. I don't have that problem with our other vehicles so prefer to think of it as an issue that is unique to Nancy's car.
I've not had that conversation with Evan as yet but probably should. Whether or not he has the patience to listen and learn is another question. My fear is that he will give up out of exasperation and for the sake of an easy fix he will drive away and into the night with a less than full tank of gas. I take it upon myself to check the oil in that car with some frequency since it has always used more oil than one might expect. I showed Evan how to do that check once but I don't know that I can rely on him to stay on top of it. Oh ye of little faith.
Da would be rolling over in his grave if he knew about Evan's trials and tribulations with the car. All he ever wanted for Evan was that he be a good citizen and he told him so with great regularity. Da also had a wealth of knowledge to share with a grandson who was willing to listen but I think Da passed away before Evan ever got around to asking the questions that needed to be asked.
If I knew anything about Da it was that he was downright religious when it came to maintenance about this that and the other thing and you couldn't help but learn from him. At a minimum, he taught us all to be just a little bit more curious about things we didn't know anything about. He was an engineer by training and there are times even now after he's been gone for several years where I wish he was still there to answer a question or two.
While Evan seems not to have inherited his grandfathers hairline or his penchant for all thing mechanical, his standing as a good citizen thus far anyway would likely make Da proud.
Where I might have changed my own tires or even my oil in the past, Evan wouldn't hesitate to call AAA today if he had a problem on the road. They have come to his rescue a couple of times in recent memory and he was so traumatized by one of those rescues that he swore he'd never ever drive that car again. If we as his parents learned anything from that experience, it was that Evan is and can be resourceful but we still have a responsibility to make sure that we take the necessary precautions as long as he is driving our vehicles.
As I think back on it now, we were certainly delighted and thankfully so that he was able to navigate the intricacies of the event without suffering a sensory overload or other. There are times when you just have to go with the flow. That's hard to do when you're broken down on the side of the highway in a car that has smoke pouring from beneath the hood, red lights on the dashboard flashing on and off, cars whizzing by a mere few inches away seemingly at warp speed, and with no roadmap other than your own frazzled and frayed imagination to guide you.
So when Mrs G sat across the room from Nancy and I while rocking back and forth slowly but deliberately in her chair over this past weekend while mimicking the sound of her car battery turning over ever so s-l-o-w-l-y, only to mention that her battery passed inspection but by the slimmest of margins, I held my breath waiting for her to ask the most obvious of questions. But she never did.
I thought to myself, what would Da say? What would Da do? One thing is for sure. He would have taken care of it. There would be no wondering and waiting for something to fail. Any engineer worth his salt took Entropy 101 in his or her first year. There would be no unpredictability on Da's watch. When I finally got around to asking whether or not she thought she might want to have her battery replaced when the car was in for servicing I was surprised to hear her say "no."
Her response was so un-Da like that I wasn't sure that I heard her at first. Every other aspect of the car's maintenance was looked after as Da might were he still alive. But this. This was different. This was throwing caution to the wind. This was taking an unnecessary risk. This was rolling the dice in a way that was uncharacteristic of Mrs G.
Perhaps a little risk taking is her way of fighting back against the overwhelming orderliness that has become her existence at Exeter Wood. Flirting with your nemesis in a way that inspires life can be intriguing in an otherwise whirlwind of sameness and it behooves one not to muster the necessary courage to take a step in that direction when the opportunity presents itself. It's akin perhaps to purposely leaving your door unlocked overnight or taking someone else's dinner when the bags are otherwise clearly marked with the name of the recipient living in close proximity to you at the Woods.
What would Da say? What would Da do?
Zippity Doo Dah
18/01/19 08:14
Finally. We have snow in the forecast. This looks to be a serious one, folks. Relatively speaking, that is. Since we've had zero accumulation thus far this season any amount of snow would be considered a "lot" of snow. Yes, they're calling for a good foot or more here on the coast and up to two feet in the mountains and points west going into Vermont, Maine, and even upstate New York.
I have mixed feelings about all of this since I've been enjoying not having snow and all the good things that go along with that including my daily bike riding regimen, etc. All of that is about to come to an abrupt halt.
I dragged all of the machines I'll be needing and some I'm hoping won't be necessary, that being the case with the generator, out of the garage yesterday to make sure that all had sufficient gas and oil before I need to put them into service. I have this bad habit of leaving one thing or another to chance and a good example here would be filling the machines with gas but not running the machines to make sure that they will function on a moments notice when the time comes.
That is about as close as I come to living dangerously these days. Another quick example? I ride my bike every day with tires that are getting a little long in the tooth after putting some 2,000 plus miles on them over the course of 2018. I know they are threadbare or close to threadbare but ride like the wind in sub-freezing temperatures anyway knowing full well that getting a flat on a remote section of the highway I ride might well prove fatal.
Maybe I've been watching too many of those Alaskan survival shows on television but I worry as well about breaking down after working up a hard cold sweat and succumbing to hypothermia or worse. Riding like the wind as I do, I suppose stroking out or having a heart attack while riding is possible too but that would mean I died doing what I love to do which should give a modicum of comfort to family and friends.
That would be preferable as well to some of the more nightmarish scenarios that go through my mind while riding. I like to think that I live far enough north so that I don't have to concern myself with yahoos wielding crossbows and shotguns from the comfort of their pick-ups but I've had enough objects thrown at me over the years to know this isn't true. Every day is an adventure. Anything less would be humdrum.
Speaking of yahoos, do we have to put up with another fucking year seeing the Patriots in the Super Bowl? Seems like the answer to that question is "yes." You know I love to hate the Patriots. They were in the SB last year and lost to a team whose name I can't even remember now. That was worth watching. Maybe it was the year before. I am so tired of hearing the name "Tom Brady" and "Bill Belachik."
No matter the call on the field, it's never Tom's fault. It's always the other guy. Tom can do no wrong. Will someone break through that line and kneecap that bastard before he gets a chance to throw the ball? I want to see that pissy little whiner with his arms flailing begging, cajoling, and trying to shame any one of the several referees on the field into calling a foul on the opposing team. You want to see a temper tantrum? Just watch Tom Brady not get his way on the field.
The Patriots are a well oiled machine. I will give them that much. Why are other teams not able to do the same? What is it about the Patriots that makes them so unique? More importantly, why can other teams not come up with a strategy to overcome whatever it is that they face week in and week out when playing the Patriots during the regular season?
The film is there for anyone and everyone to see. Their plays seem fairly predictable route in and route out. Season after season they employ the same tactics on the field. How do you explain the dominance of any one team for a decade or more? Just when you think that their losing one or more super bowl games signals the beginning of their long anticipated decline in the rankings, they come back for yet another year and find their way to another super bowl.
I would welcome a humiliating defeat this year. Better late than never is what I say. I admit it. I'm a hater. Well, when to comes to the Patriots anyway. The Patriots aside, I could care less for football. I am definitely on the sidelines with the non-believers when it comes to religion and sports. I'm not sure where that leaves me exactly when it comes to wanting to see them lose. It is a sentiment best kept close to the vest hereabouts.
I do wish President Trump would get off his ass and declare a national emergency so he can move forward with building the Wall. Use eminent domain when and where necessary to get the job done. He's not signing off on any bills that fund the government until they approve his $5b for the Wall. Since the democrats hold the House of Representatives and they have no desire to approve so much as a dollar for the Wall, the government remains shut down.
And now, the Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, is refusing to extend an offer to have Trump deliver his State of the Union speech in the chamber of the House of Representatives until the government opens back up. I'm not sure why Trump doesn't just deliver the speech from another venue but I'm waking up this morning to learn that he has agreed to wait until the government reopens to give his speech.
Say what? The headline in the Wall Street Journal this morning reads as follows: "Trump bends to Pelosi on the State of the Union." This is bullshit! This is not the Trump we voted for. I guess I don't know if he's playing three D chess or just rolling over. Maybe he's listening to Jared Kushner again. His supporters are not going to be happy. He does realize that he is up for reelection in 2020. Right? We need to keep fighting.
I have mixed feelings about all of this since I've been enjoying not having snow and all the good things that go along with that including my daily bike riding regimen, etc. All of that is about to come to an abrupt halt.
I dragged all of the machines I'll be needing and some I'm hoping won't be necessary, that being the case with the generator, out of the garage yesterday to make sure that all had sufficient gas and oil before I need to put them into service. I have this bad habit of leaving one thing or another to chance and a good example here would be filling the machines with gas but not running the machines to make sure that they will function on a moments notice when the time comes.
That is about as close as I come to living dangerously these days. Another quick example? I ride my bike every day with tires that are getting a little long in the tooth after putting some 2,000 plus miles on them over the course of 2018. I know they are threadbare or close to threadbare but ride like the wind in sub-freezing temperatures anyway knowing full well that getting a flat on a remote section of the highway I ride might well prove fatal.
Maybe I've been watching too many of those Alaskan survival shows on television but I worry as well about breaking down after working up a hard cold sweat and succumbing to hypothermia or worse. Riding like the wind as I do, I suppose stroking out or having a heart attack while riding is possible too but that would mean I died doing what I love to do which should give a modicum of comfort to family and friends.
That would be preferable as well to some of the more nightmarish scenarios that go through my mind while riding. I like to think that I live far enough north so that I don't have to concern myself with yahoos wielding crossbows and shotguns from the comfort of their pick-ups but I've had enough objects thrown at me over the years to know this isn't true. Every day is an adventure. Anything less would be humdrum.
Speaking of yahoos, do we have to put up with another fucking year seeing the Patriots in the Super Bowl? Seems like the answer to that question is "yes." You know I love to hate the Patriots. They were in the SB last year and lost to a team whose name I can't even remember now. That was worth watching. Maybe it was the year before. I am so tired of hearing the name "Tom Brady" and "Bill Belachik."
No matter the call on the field, it's never Tom's fault. It's always the other guy. Tom can do no wrong. Will someone break through that line and kneecap that bastard before he gets a chance to throw the ball? I want to see that pissy little whiner with his arms flailing begging, cajoling, and trying to shame any one of the several referees on the field into calling a foul on the opposing team. You want to see a temper tantrum? Just watch Tom Brady not get his way on the field.
The Patriots are a well oiled machine. I will give them that much. Why are other teams not able to do the same? What is it about the Patriots that makes them so unique? More importantly, why can other teams not come up with a strategy to overcome whatever it is that they face week in and week out when playing the Patriots during the regular season?
The film is there for anyone and everyone to see. Their plays seem fairly predictable route in and route out. Season after season they employ the same tactics on the field. How do you explain the dominance of any one team for a decade or more? Just when you think that their losing one or more super bowl games signals the beginning of their long anticipated decline in the rankings, they come back for yet another year and find their way to another super bowl.
I would welcome a humiliating defeat this year. Better late than never is what I say. I admit it. I'm a hater. Well, when to comes to the Patriots anyway. The Patriots aside, I could care less for football. I am definitely on the sidelines with the non-believers when it comes to religion and sports. I'm not sure where that leaves me exactly when it comes to wanting to see them lose. It is a sentiment best kept close to the vest hereabouts.
I do wish President Trump would get off his ass and declare a national emergency so he can move forward with building the Wall. Use eminent domain when and where necessary to get the job done. He's not signing off on any bills that fund the government until they approve his $5b for the Wall. Since the democrats hold the House of Representatives and they have no desire to approve so much as a dollar for the Wall, the government remains shut down.
And now, the Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, is refusing to extend an offer to have Trump deliver his State of the Union speech in the chamber of the House of Representatives until the government opens back up. I'm not sure why Trump doesn't just deliver the speech from another venue but I'm waking up this morning to learn that he has agreed to wait until the government reopens to give his speech.
Say what? The headline in the Wall Street Journal this morning reads as follows: "Trump bends to Pelosi on the State of the Union." This is bullshit! This is not the Trump we voted for. I guess I don't know if he's playing three D chess or just rolling over. Maybe he's listening to Jared Kushner again. His supporters are not going to be happy. He does realize that he is up for reelection in 2020. Right? We need to keep fighting.
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
11/01/19 07:31
It seems inevitable now that Ruth Bader Ginsburg is not long for this world. She sits, or rather sat at least as of yesterday, on the US Supreme court as one of the more liberal of the 9 Justices. Having experienced a series of health issues in recent years including pancreatic cancer, etc., it now appears that her latest bout with cancer where they discovered and removed several cancerous nodes in her lungs might well be the last straw.
She has been absent from the court following her surgery and is reportedly no longer even in Washington, D.C.. While the populace has been distracted by the government shutdown now in its 17th day or so and Trump's very public push to erect a big beautiful wall on our southern border, the Trump White House has been putting together plans to name a nominee to replace Ginsburg when the time comes as it inevitably will. Reassuring as that may or may not be, it always does.
The prospects of having a 6-3 court with the conservatives in the majority is beyond crazy exciting and the democrat party will shortly be losing their shit when Buzzie, as she is known to her closest friends, steps down from the court. In lesser known circles, she is simply known as "RBG." Naming justices to the Supreme Court was a selling point when Trump was running for president and he has fulfilled his obligations in spades by naming two superb conservative Justices (Gorsuch and Kavanaugh) in the first two years of his presidency.
The culture wars are often decided in the Supreme Court these days so unless one or more of the Justices decides to go full Souter, a reference to Justice Souter who was seated as a conservative Justice by George Bush but turned out to be a flaming liberal, we are off to the fucking races!
It goes without saying that we could never get there without having a republican majority in the US Senate. Trump stumped hard in rally after rally in the months leading up to the 2016 mid terms to make certain that we conservatives not only held the majority in the Senate but actually gained a seat or two. No longer will we be held hostage by one or two squishy republicans in the senate who might on any given issue or day side with the democrats. We all remember that fool on the Hill, John McCain, the then disgraced and now deceased Senator from Arizona who gave the thumbs down when it came to voting against the disassembling of Obamacare.
With a 53-47 majority, if you have one or two republican senators who go that route they can voice their opposition but it won't matter. The majority still rules. The additions to the majority on the republican side of the ledger, with the exception of Mitt "Mittens" Romney, are rabidly pro-Trump (that's a good thing) and infinitely more conservative than those they replaced. And we can thank the baby Jesus that McCain and Flake are no longer on the roster. Good fucking riddance!
I didn't wake up feeling all political but it seems I've gone there for better or worse. Did I mention that Evan will not be going into that place we looked at in Seabrook? Oh, and the place is Newmarket was a no-go as well. We didn't even think about the fact that if you have a place that allows pets that that place might not be suitable for a fellow with allergies.
Whether he mentioned the wheezing business as a ploy to avoid moving out of his now comfortable surroundings or not, it is what it is and we realized after the fact that we were very short sighted in not taking that into consideration when looking at prospective apartments. If there is any good news, more places than not disallow pets so we'll continue searching and hope for the almighty best. Yes, divine intervention is always welcome.
When I think of macaroons I think coconut, don't you? Apparently, there is a difference between macaroons and french macaroons (macarons). The latter is a delicate cookie of sorts and a quite delicious one at that. We've often visited the shop in downtown Portsmouth where they have tray after tray in a display window of colorful but small, and some might say dainty, French macaroons.
I've always ordered something else while there, maybe a Key Lime torte or other, and I've never taken a chance on one of the cookies. I simply wasn't convinced that it was going to be satisfying enough when all was said and done.
In the last month or so I paid a visit with Nancy to a new bakery of sorts in Exeter that specializes in the sale of those very same French macaroons. I can't remember which specific type of French macaroon that I chose in retrospect, all of which appeared decadent in their own unique way, but I vividly remember the explosion of flavor in my mouth with the very first nibble.
It was a small bite indeed so the word "nibble" seems more or less appropriate. I remember trying to make the connection in my brain with the very first bite between the flavors caroming from cheek to cheek and the descriptions stenciled on the small white cardboard placards behind the glass in the display case for same. Ambrosia?
I hoped that I hadn't been too hasty in making my selection. Certain flavors in the display case were seemingly popular as evidenced by their scarcity so I took the road less traveled and chose one of the flavors that seemed less popular of which there were many. To the casual observer, there were the brightest of yellows in the display case for all things lemony, the darkest of darks for the chocolate varieties, brilliant reds and purples for the various types of fruit flavorings, and other mesmerizing but seemingly unnatural pastels that were better left to one's imagination. Caramel and Rose?
You understood immediately why the cookies were as small and as expensive as they were. Every bite, however small, was heaven sent. The packaging when you purchased a half dozen or so was sturdy and more than up to snuff. There was a small rectangular cellophane window on the small cardboard box containing our purchase through which one could cast a discriminating but desirous eye on the contents within. The message was unequivocal: Look but do not touch. I dare you.
Tossing these cookies into a bag like a bunch of donuts would be a huge disservice to the artist whose considerable time and effort went into creating these cookies not to mention the panache and talent required to artfully present them to the public. Make no mistake about it. Once ordered, the clerk gingerly lifted each macaron from the display case with all the dexterity and deliberation of a jeweler handling a precious gem.
I personally thought it was somewhat over the top but I nonetheless appreciated his attention to detail. If these puppies are half as good as they look, and at all worth the extravagant prices that they were charging for each cookie, then I can tolerate a little pretentiousness on the part of the clerk.
To make a long story short, we left the few remaining cookies we had not eaten with Mrs G for her to enjoy at her leisure. She too found them to be delicious and we promised to bring more when we next visited. We stopped by their shop a couple of times on subsequent trips but it was closed on both occasions.
I've since noticed them in the frozen food section at Trader Joes but I have to believe that the freshly baked varieties are preferable to the frozen types so we'll try that store in Exeter again and maybe even call in advance if we have the opportunity to do so. If push comes to shove, I suppose we could bring Mrs G a sampler of frozen macarons from Trader Joe's. Or, we could stop by the store in Portsmouth. Decisions decisions. It's all good.
She has been absent from the court following her surgery and is reportedly no longer even in Washington, D.C.. While the populace has been distracted by the government shutdown now in its 17th day or so and Trump's very public push to erect a big beautiful wall on our southern border, the Trump White House has been putting together plans to name a nominee to replace Ginsburg when the time comes as it inevitably will. Reassuring as that may or may not be, it always does.
The prospects of having a 6-3 court with the conservatives in the majority is beyond crazy exciting and the democrat party will shortly be losing their shit when Buzzie, as she is known to her closest friends, steps down from the court. In lesser known circles, she is simply known as "RBG." Naming justices to the Supreme Court was a selling point when Trump was running for president and he has fulfilled his obligations in spades by naming two superb conservative Justices (Gorsuch and Kavanaugh) in the first two years of his presidency.
The culture wars are often decided in the Supreme Court these days so unless one or more of the Justices decides to go full Souter, a reference to Justice Souter who was seated as a conservative Justice by George Bush but turned out to be a flaming liberal, we are off to the fucking races!
It goes without saying that we could never get there without having a republican majority in the US Senate. Trump stumped hard in rally after rally in the months leading up to the 2016 mid terms to make certain that we conservatives not only held the majority in the Senate but actually gained a seat or two. No longer will we be held hostage by one or two squishy republicans in the senate who might on any given issue or day side with the democrats. We all remember that fool on the Hill, John McCain, the then disgraced and now deceased Senator from Arizona who gave the thumbs down when it came to voting against the disassembling of Obamacare.
With a 53-47 majority, if you have one or two republican senators who go that route they can voice their opposition but it won't matter. The majority still rules. The additions to the majority on the republican side of the ledger, with the exception of Mitt "Mittens" Romney, are rabidly pro-Trump (that's a good thing) and infinitely more conservative than those they replaced. And we can thank the baby Jesus that McCain and Flake are no longer on the roster. Good fucking riddance!
I didn't wake up feeling all political but it seems I've gone there for better or worse. Did I mention that Evan will not be going into that place we looked at in Seabrook? Oh, and the place is Newmarket was a no-go as well. We didn't even think about the fact that if you have a place that allows pets that that place might not be suitable for a fellow with allergies.
Whether he mentioned the wheezing business as a ploy to avoid moving out of his now comfortable surroundings or not, it is what it is and we realized after the fact that we were very short sighted in not taking that into consideration when looking at prospective apartments. If there is any good news, more places than not disallow pets so we'll continue searching and hope for the almighty best. Yes, divine intervention is always welcome.
When I think of macaroons I think coconut, don't you? Apparently, there is a difference between macaroons and french macaroons (macarons). The latter is a delicate cookie of sorts and a quite delicious one at that. We've often visited the shop in downtown Portsmouth where they have tray after tray in a display window of colorful but small, and some might say dainty, French macaroons.
I've always ordered something else while there, maybe a Key Lime torte or other, and I've never taken a chance on one of the cookies. I simply wasn't convinced that it was going to be satisfying enough when all was said and done.
In the last month or so I paid a visit with Nancy to a new bakery of sorts in Exeter that specializes in the sale of those very same French macaroons. I can't remember which specific type of French macaroon that I chose in retrospect, all of which appeared decadent in their own unique way, but I vividly remember the explosion of flavor in my mouth with the very first nibble.
It was a small bite indeed so the word "nibble" seems more or less appropriate. I remember trying to make the connection in my brain with the very first bite between the flavors caroming from cheek to cheek and the descriptions stenciled on the small white cardboard placards behind the glass in the display case for same. Ambrosia?
I hoped that I hadn't been too hasty in making my selection. Certain flavors in the display case were seemingly popular as evidenced by their scarcity so I took the road less traveled and chose one of the flavors that seemed less popular of which there were many. To the casual observer, there were the brightest of yellows in the display case for all things lemony, the darkest of darks for the chocolate varieties, brilliant reds and purples for the various types of fruit flavorings, and other mesmerizing but seemingly unnatural pastels that were better left to one's imagination. Caramel and Rose?
You understood immediately why the cookies were as small and as expensive as they were. Every bite, however small, was heaven sent. The packaging when you purchased a half dozen or so was sturdy and more than up to snuff. There was a small rectangular cellophane window on the small cardboard box containing our purchase through which one could cast a discriminating but desirous eye on the contents within. The message was unequivocal: Look but do not touch. I dare you.
Tossing these cookies into a bag like a bunch of donuts would be a huge disservice to the artist whose considerable time and effort went into creating these cookies not to mention the panache and talent required to artfully present them to the public. Make no mistake about it. Once ordered, the clerk gingerly lifted each macaron from the display case with all the dexterity and deliberation of a jeweler handling a precious gem.
I personally thought it was somewhat over the top but I nonetheless appreciated his attention to detail. If these puppies are half as good as they look, and at all worth the extravagant prices that they were charging for each cookie, then I can tolerate a little pretentiousness on the part of the clerk.
To make a long story short, we left the few remaining cookies we had not eaten with Mrs G for her to enjoy at her leisure. She too found them to be delicious and we promised to bring more when we next visited. We stopped by their shop a couple of times on subsequent trips but it was closed on both occasions.
I've since noticed them in the frozen food section at Trader Joes but I have to believe that the freshly baked varieties are preferable to the frozen types so we'll try that store in Exeter again and maybe even call in advance if we have the opportunity to do so. If push comes to shove, I suppose we could bring Mrs G a sampler of frozen macarons from Trader Joe's. Or, we could stop by the store in Portsmouth. Decisions decisions. It's all good.
A Cold Day in Hell
05/01/19 07:33
Build the goddamn wall already, Mr President! Trump promised it rally in and rally out in the months leading up to the general election and now I expect him to build it. We hired a builder when we hired Trump, amongst other things, so let's see him build that big beautiful wall on our southern border. So now we have a government shutdown because Pelosi's democrats who took control in January did not include $5b in the budget for our wall. Many on the conservative side of the aisle are wanting him to make a fireside address to the nation to talk about the wall and our country's need for same.
I don't know why he's reluctant to do that if that is why he hasn't done it to date but I think it's not a bad idea. You don't come a billionaire builder and president by not being a good salesman so I say do it. Let's get that funding, build the fucking wall, and stop the flow of drugs and illegals into our country. I don't care what it's made of, just build it.
It all started out innocently enough when Nancy decided to tell the Ross-man that she expected to come into work over the weekend despite having seen probably the worst of her cold come and go. She wanted to let him know in the event that he might elect to have her not come and work with him knowing full well that he has surgery scheduled in the next few weeks. No need to further complicate an already dicey matter as matters go.
I think Nancy's instincts were on target in letting him know about her cold. I think she wasn't expecting him to say what he said about her maybe wearing a face mask. The very thought of having to do that for 6-7 hours is so completely out of the question in her mind that I'm not sure she even wants to try to do it. Let him wear the mask if he is so concerned. Maybe they can take turns.
Nancy and I were sitting in my car in the parking lot of the local Starbucks a little after six last night wondering what, if anything, we might bring home for Evan for dinner. I finally downloaded the Starbucks app and now order my beverage on my phone before arriving at the store to pick it up.
We even talked about ordering it on the app while sitting in front of the store window so we can see them put it up for pick up but decided that was a little too weird. We usually get the same thing so we're now simply removing the monotonous and unnecessary elements of the transaction from the process.
That is to say, no more waiting in line, no more exchanging niceties with the cashier, no more reaching into my wallet to pay for the purchase, and no more making the same request day in and day out. I don't know why one or more of the people who take our order hasn't suggested that we order via the app but they haven't. Maybe it's a job security thing. Sooner or later, if everyone orders using the apps, they would need to hire fewer and fewer people to take those orders. They could have a line for "Luddites Only" when all is said and done.
So we called the Ev-man to have a discussion about dinner and what, if anything, he wanted us to pick up for him before returning home. He was noncommittal about wanting anything but there was enough slack in the conversation that I decided that he probably did want something but he just didn't know what.
After running through the usual options, most of which had little or no appeal to him, he decided that he might like to have a bacon cheeseburger (medium rare - with pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, and onion) from the 99 restaurant which was coincidently right next door to Starbucks. How convenient!
Nancy and I would make something at home for ourselves, or at least that was the original plan, until she decided that she too would order something off the 99 menu. We were a little surprised after the fact to see that the restaurant charged a packaging fee for the take-out order and didn't tell us about it. It was on the slip so it was a done deal.
I'm not sure had they informed us up front that we wouldn't have placed the order anyway. Not every establishment does this although the 99 seems to be marketing this particular service for some reason. People like their food but don't like to consume it on the premises?
They were doing a brisk business when we arrived so eating in-house didn't appear to be an issue. And I would hasten to add that the packaging was tasteful and appropriate considering the items that we ordered. It was easy to carry and everything was still hot by the time we arrived home. It was everything you would expect from a take-out order and maybe a little more. Was it worth the $3.62 that they charged us? The jury is still out.
We took a casual stroll around the plaza going from storefront to storefront while waiting for our order at the 99 and lamented or simply observed the fact that there were no crosswalks where one might expect to see crosswalks to facilitate safe passage between stores; that after sticking our heads in the doorway of the local Japanese restaurant to review their specials of the day that we didn't dine there more often; that the recently constructed apartment complex in the rear corner of the plaza was nearing full occupancy given the number of lighted apartments as seen from the ground floor; that the Big Lots store was probably out of reach given that we had only a limited amount of time before we had to turn back towards the 99; and that the Subway store on the corner across the way from the 99 had but a small handful of customers and that was probably enough to keep them in business if that is all they had day in and day out.
We looked at those apartments once and we were not impressed. The Feng Shui was horrible and we noticed it the minute we walked into the model apartment. Nancy, as is her inclination, pointed out to the fella showing us the unit that the drawers in the kitchen either didn't open fully or opened into an obstruction of sorts. Oh yes, and the closets were bigger than the bedrooms. Can you imagine?
Did I mention that we remarked as well as we neared the end of our walk around the plaza about that little window in the door at the rear of the 99 restaurant? It was roughly 2x2 inch window probably no larger than a deck of cards that was large enough for an employee inside the store to see who might be knocking with a delivery but small enough so that you could step away at a moments notice if someone put a revolver up to the window in an attempt to gain entrance to commit grand larceny or worse.
The area was not well lit although employees were probably instructed not to open the door after a specific time of day since no deliveries would be scheduled. Nancy wondered aloud why the window wasn't round and I was curious as to why they didn't just have a one of those hotel style peep holes that give you an Alice-in-Wonderland view of the word outside your door at a moments notice. All good questions.
I don't know why he's reluctant to do that if that is why he hasn't done it to date but I think it's not a bad idea. You don't come a billionaire builder and president by not being a good salesman so I say do it. Let's get that funding, build the fucking wall, and stop the flow of drugs and illegals into our country. I don't care what it's made of, just build it.
It all started out innocently enough when Nancy decided to tell the Ross-man that she expected to come into work over the weekend despite having seen probably the worst of her cold come and go. She wanted to let him know in the event that he might elect to have her not come and work with him knowing full well that he has surgery scheduled in the next few weeks. No need to further complicate an already dicey matter as matters go.
I think Nancy's instincts were on target in letting him know about her cold. I think she wasn't expecting him to say what he said about her maybe wearing a face mask. The very thought of having to do that for 6-7 hours is so completely out of the question in her mind that I'm not sure she even wants to try to do it. Let him wear the mask if he is so concerned. Maybe they can take turns.
Nancy and I were sitting in my car in the parking lot of the local Starbucks a little after six last night wondering what, if anything, we might bring home for Evan for dinner. I finally downloaded the Starbucks app and now order my beverage on my phone before arriving at the store to pick it up.
We even talked about ordering it on the app while sitting in front of the store window so we can see them put it up for pick up but decided that was a little too weird. We usually get the same thing so we're now simply removing the monotonous and unnecessary elements of the transaction from the process.
That is to say, no more waiting in line, no more exchanging niceties with the cashier, no more reaching into my wallet to pay for the purchase, and no more making the same request day in and day out. I don't know why one or more of the people who take our order hasn't suggested that we order via the app but they haven't. Maybe it's a job security thing. Sooner or later, if everyone orders using the apps, they would need to hire fewer and fewer people to take those orders. They could have a line for "Luddites Only" when all is said and done.
So we called the Ev-man to have a discussion about dinner and what, if anything, he wanted us to pick up for him before returning home. He was noncommittal about wanting anything but there was enough slack in the conversation that I decided that he probably did want something but he just didn't know what.
After running through the usual options, most of which had little or no appeal to him, he decided that he might like to have a bacon cheeseburger (medium rare - with pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, and onion) from the 99 restaurant which was coincidently right next door to Starbucks. How convenient!
Nancy and I would make something at home for ourselves, or at least that was the original plan, until she decided that she too would order something off the 99 menu. We were a little surprised after the fact to see that the restaurant charged a packaging fee for the take-out order and didn't tell us about it. It was on the slip so it was a done deal.
I'm not sure had they informed us up front that we wouldn't have placed the order anyway. Not every establishment does this although the 99 seems to be marketing this particular service for some reason. People like their food but don't like to consume it on the premises?
They were doing a brisk business when we arrived so eating in-house didn't appear to be an issue. And I would hasten to add that the packaging was tasteful and appropriate considering the items that we ordered. It was easy to carry and everything was still hot by the time we arrived home. It was everything you would expect from a take-out order and maybe a little more. Was it worth the $3.62 that they charged us? The jury is still out.
We took a casual stroll around the plaza going from storefront to storefront while waiting for our order at the 99 and lamented or simply observed the fact that there were no crosswalks where one might expect to see crosswalks to facilitate safe passage between stores; that after sticking our heads in the doorway of the local Japanese restaurant to review their specials of the day that we didn't dine there more often; that the recently constructed apartment complex in the rear corner of the plaza was nearing full occupancy given the number of lighted apartments as seen from the ground floor; that the Big Lots store was probably out of reach given that we had only a limited amount of time before we had to turn back towards the 99; and that the Subway store on the corner across the way from the 99 had but a small handful of customers and that was probably enough to keep them in business if that is all they had day in and day out.
We looked at those apartments once and we were not impressed. The Feng Shui was horrible and we noticed it the minute we walked into the model apartment. Nancy, as is her inclination, pointed out to the fella showing us the unit that the drawers in the kitchen either didn't open fully or opened into an obstruction of sorts. Oh yes, and the closets were bigger than the bedrooms. Can you imagine?
Did I mention that we remarked as well as we neared the end of our walk around the plaza about that little window in the door at the rear of the 99 restaurant? It was roughly 2x2 inch window probably no larger than a deck of cards that was large enough for an employee inside the store to see who might be knocking with a delivery but small enough so that you could step away at a moments notice if someone put a revolver up to the window in an attempt to gain entrance to commit grand larceny or worse.
The area was not well lit although employees were probably instructed not to open the door after a specific time of day since no deliveries would be scheduled. Nancy wondered aloud why the window wasn't round and I was curious as to why they didn't just have a one of those hotel style peep holes that give you an Alice-in-Wonderland view of the word outside your door at a moments notice. All good questions.
Lions, Tigers, and...Coyotes?
03/01/19 07:19
I agree with Ev. Why should he take the first place he looks at? He's right to be concerned about the windows and this third floor walk-up in Newmarket that he went to look at yesterday. I'm glad that he took pictures on his phone so his mom and I could have a look at the place and offer our opinions. He was not interested in having us come along to see the place at the outset and I think that is a decision in retrospect that he regretted. He felt quite good, however, about where the unit was located relative to the other apartments in the building and he liked the fact that the flow of foot traffic in and around his unit would likely be minimal.
The kitchen looked small with next to no counter space in the pictures he shared with us, the bathroom was even smaller, and the texture and tone of the pictures was not overall positive. The word that immediately comes to mind for me is "drab." Whatever someone was doing to get the place ready to rent, I think it's safe to say that they were clearly not finished. Why would they even bother showing it if that were the case? This one and done approach to apartment shopping is for the birds. Katy needs to do better. Unless he wakes up feeling more positive about what he saw yesterday, I think we'll recommend that Evan not take this place.
I'm likely at a crossroads today with the first snow of 2019 coming down at a pretty good clip. I thought we might get a dusting and it appears we're getting that and then some. I have yet to go to the gym this year and haven't been for ten months or so since biking started in early 2018. Today is as good a day as any to start my gym workouts so we'll see how the day goes. At some point I suppose I'll not be getting in any biking days due to the snowy roads and I think we're expecting more of the white stuff next week so this might be it. I should be happy that I squeezed as many days as I did when it comes to biking so I shouldn't spend any time regretting anything. It's still painful though.
Evan came out of his bedroom just now with a smile on his face and after grabbing a drink from the refrigerator asked why we didn't let him know sooner about the snow. I don't know which made him happier, the snow which has now accumulated an inch or two, or the fact that he is down with his decision not to take the place in Newmarket. I don't know the latter to be true but I do know that he loves the snow and is happy to hunker down if and when storms are in the forecast. I hope he won't be too disappointed when he finds out that we're not expecting much although we've already gotten more than the smattering that they originally forecasted for our area.
With the arrival of the first real or near real snow of the season, I suspect we'll see a re-emergence of the local bird population winging their way as it were to our various bird feeders around the house. It's unclear to me as to why we've not seen many birds in the last month or so but it probably has something to do with the absence of snow cover and the abundance of other food sources available.
I've seen various raptors hereabouts as of late and they too might well cause the Chickadees, Woodpeckers, Cardinals, and other birds to lay low and away from the unprotected spaces around the bird feeders. Nancy expressed her disappointment the other day about not seeing as many birds at our bird feeders as one might expect this time of the year and I assured her that with the first signs of a real snow that I expected all of that to change in a good way.
As I sit here now watching the snow come down there are several Finches on the thistle feeders on our back deck. Bluebirds and Carolina Wrens come around on occasion as well and with any luck and the right kind of suet in my suet feeder we'll welcome them back after a surprisingly long hiatus. Our neighbor, Betsy, sent me an e-mail earlier asking if we'd heard the coyotes last night. Coyotes?
I heard recently that they have been trapping them in the woods near the local cemetary so maybe Betsy's e-mail shouldn't come as a surprise to me. What exactly do they do with a trapped coyote? Betsy has a small dog that would likely be nothing but an appetizer for a hungry pack of coyotes but all the same she should exercise caution when walking her animal every day and night. Rabid coyotes will attack a human and can inflict serious damage and probably even kill someone who is ill prepared to repel the attack.
I will have to discuss measures that Nancy might consider employing in her early morning walks if she even dares do that any more now that we know we have a problem. She tends to stay away from our local beaches due to the towns ordinances regarding dogs and their running off leash where they can intimidate and threaten walkers and joggers alike who might well have a preference not to interact with dogs friendly or not. With roads in and around our home being her only safe paths now available, having coyotes around starts to seriously chip away at whatever veneer of safety she thought she had left.
Ours is maybe the only town on the coast that favors dogs over locals who might otherwise prefer that people keep their dogs on a leash when walking them on the local beaches. Nancy referenced some survey recently which said that very few dogs will respond to their owners when called directly. That's a frightening thought for someone who is relying on the owners to have control of their animals when they start bearing down on you and ignore the increasingly desperate pleadings of their keepers. Poodles are one thing. Pit Bulls are quite another.
Returning to this post a day later I am happy to report that I did in fact get a bike ride in. I was careful to ride more slowly in those shadowed stretches of highway on the back roads here in town where the sun had a more difficult time warming the pavement but found my stride once out on Ocean Boulevard. I am more than mindful during these winter rides to make sure that I have enough layers on such that were I to have a problem with a flat tire or worse that I can withstand the cold temperatures while waiting for aa family member to come to my rescue.
Whether or not I will have cell service if and when that happens is another question but having enough layers on will give me the additional protection that I need to get to a spot where I do have cell service. Then again, if I had to walk home that too would be possible given that I'm usually no further than 5 or 6 miles out at the furthest point. Having put so many miles in last year I'm also keeping a close eye on the tread of my tires and would probably be well advised to throw on a new pair of tires just to be safe. I spend far too much time watching out for glass and other things on the roadway during my ride maybe to the point of distraction.
On a brighter note, Nancy's cold is getting better with each passing day. She is spending less time in bed and more time working at loose ends around the house. When I got back from my ride yesterday I found her fiddling around in the garage with the garage door open and neither the cold nor the threat of physical exertion seemed to be of concern to her. It's premature to say that we've seen the last of it although it does seem to be entering the final phase if it is in fact a "cold." She's talking openly and honestly this morning about what she's open to and capable of in the coming days. It's a moving target, my friends. Can I get you another tissue?
The kitchen looked small with next to no counter space in the pictures he shared with us, the bathroom was even smaller, and the texture and tone of the pictures was not overall positive. The word that immediately comes to mind for me is "drab." Whatever someone was doing to get the place ready to rent, I think it's safe to say that they were clearly not finished. Why would they even bother showing it if that were the case? This one and done approach to apartment shopping is for the birds. Katy needs to do better. Unless he wakes up feeling more positive about what he saw yesterday, I think we'll recommend that Evan not take this place.
I'm likely at a crossroads today with the first snow of 2019 coming down at a pretty good clip. I thought we might get a dusting and it appears we're getting that and then some. I have yet to go to the gym this year and haven't been for ten months or so since biking started in early 2018. Today is as good a day as any to start my gym workouts so we'll see how the day goes. At some point I suppose I'll not be getting in any biking days due to the snowy roads and I think we're expecting more of the white stuff next week so this might be it. I should be happy that I squeezed as many days as I did when it comes to biking so I shouldn't spend any time regretting anything. It's still painful though.
Evan came out of his bedroom just now with a smile on his face and after grabbing a drink from the refrigerator asked why we didn't let him know sooner about the snow. I don't know which made him happier, the snow which has now accumulated an inch or two, or the fact that he is down with his decision not to take the place in Newmarket. I don't know the latter to be true but I do know that he loves the snow and is happy to hunker down if and when storms are in the forecast. I hope he won't be too disappointed when he finds out that we're not expecting much although we've already gotten more than the smattering that they originally forecasted for our area.
With the arrival of the first real or near real snow of the season, I suspect we'll see a re-emergence of the local bird population winging their way as it were to our various bird feeders around the house. It's unclear to me as to why we've not seen many birds in the last month or so but it probably has something to do with the absence of snow cover and the abundance of other food sources available.
I've seen various raptors hereabouts as of late and they too might well cause the Chickadees, Woodpeckers, Cardinals, and other birds to lay low and away from the unprotected spaces around the bird feeders. Nancy expressed her disappointment the other day about not seeing as many birds at our bird feeders as one might expect this time of the year and I assured her that with the first signs of a real snow that I expected all of that to change in a good way.
As I sit here now watching the snow come down there are several Finches on the thistle feeders on our back deck. Bluebirds and Carolina Wrens come around on occasion as well and with any luck and the right kind of suet in my suet feeder we'll welcome them back after a surprisingly long hiatus. Our neighbor, Betsy, sent me an e-mail earlier asking if we'd heard the coyotes last night. Coyotes?
I heard recently that they have been trapping them in the woods near the local cemetary so maybe Betsy's e-mail shouldn't come as a surprise to me. What exactly do they do with a trapped coyote? Betsy has a small dog that would likely be nothing but an appetizer for a hungry pack of coyotes but all the same she should exercise caution when walking her animal every day and night. Rabid coyotes will attack a human and can inflict serious damage and probably even kill someone who is ill prepared to repel the attack.
I will have to discuss measures that Nancy might consider employing in her early morning walks if she even dares do that any more now that we know we have a problem. She tends to stay away from our local beaches due to the towns ordinances regarding dogs and their running off leash where they can intimidate and threaten walkers and joggers alike who might well have a preference not to interact with dogs friendly or not. With roads in and around our home being her only safe paths now available, having coyotes around starts to seriously chip away at whatever veneer of safety she thought she had left.
Ours is maybe the only town on the coast that favors dogs over locals who might otherwise prefer that people keep their dogs on a leash when walking them on the local beaches. Nancy referenced some survey recently which said that very few dogs will respond to their owners when called directly. That's a frightening thought for someone who is relying on the owners to have control of their animals when they start bearing down on you and ignore the increasingly desperate pleadings of their keepers. Poodles are one thing. Pit Bulls are quite another.
Returning to this post a day later I am happy to report that I did in fact get a bike ride in. I was careful to ride more slowly in those shadowed stretches of highway on the back roads here in town where the sun had a more difficult time warming the pavement but found my stride once out on Ocean Boulevard. I am more than mindful during these winter rides to make sure that I have enough layers on such that were I to have a problem with a flat tire or worse that I can withstand the cold temperatures while waiting for aa family member to come to my rescue.
Whether or not I will have cell service if and when that happens is another question but having enough layers on will give me the additional protection that I need to get to a spot where I do have cell service. Then again, if I had to walk home that too would be possible given that I'm usually no further than 5 or 6 miles out at the furthest point. Having put so many miles in last year I'm also keeping a close eye on the tread of my tires and would probably be well advised to throw on a new pair of tires just to be safe. I spend far too much time watching out for glass and other things on the roadway during my ride maybe to the point of distraction.
On a brighter note, Nancy's cold is getting better with each passing day. She is spending less time in bed and more time working at loose ends around the house. When I got back from my ride yesterday I found her fiddling around in the garage with the garage door open and neither the cold nor the threat of physical exertion seemed to be of concern to her. It's premature to say that we've seen the last of it although it does seem to be entering the final phase if it is in fact a "cold." She's talking openly and honestly this morning about what she's open to and capable of in the coming days. It's a moving target, my friends. Can I get you another tissue?
Now and Then
01/01/19 07:11
Nancy had a bit of a cold last night and was feeling under the weather so we did not go into town for the fireworks. I opened our back door a little after 7 last night just long enough so the both if us could hear the rain and feel the rawness of the night and that was that. In fact, she didn't leave the house at all yesterday and when she doesn't get out of the house you know she is not feeling well. She was content to busy herself around the house with this and that and spent a bit of time in the afternoon resting in bed. "If I don't feel better by Wednesday, I won't be going into work", she stated with as much defiance as she was capable of mustering. I showed my support by uttering an all too familiar response in our household, "nor should you."
We just returned from our trip to Upstate New York to attend uncle Wally's Christmas get-together. It was such a whirlwind trip timewise that I think we needed some time to catch our collective breaths so staying home was okay with me. I should also mention that were it not for Mrs Wally we might well not have a get together at all. Her efforts on behalf of the family when it comes to entertaining and providing for same are indeed herculean. That may going without saying but it does need to be said. In fact, we should collectively say it more often than we do.
We had just enough of this and that in our refrigerator this New Year's Eve that we didn't need to go out although our plan didn't do much for the Ev-man. He was on his own. I think he may have gone out to McDonald's or something but he wasn't gone long. Keeping your loved ones off the roads on New Year's Eve, if possible, is and should be a priority and this year was no different.
We had a good trip to New York despite the fact that it was delayed by a day by icy forecasts throughout Vermont. We even called the Chamber of Commerce in Woodstock, VT, at one point to see if they had any encouraging words about the weather and or the roads. They didn't. Temperatures were solidly in the thirties across the entire route and roads were reportedly slick and icy in many of the low laying areas from start to finish.
Nancy definitely burns the candle at both ends during the Christmas season with holiday preparations for family, work, and everything in between. From hanging ornaments to wrapping presents, she is balls-to-the-walls busy without so much as a lending hand from me. Oh, I might hold a ribbon or two while she splices it with her handy dandy scissors but that's about it.
She even hangs all the ornaments on the tree each year and does so singlehandedly. She makes no effort to enlist assistance from anyone and I think she wouldn't have it any other way. From digging the boxes of ornaments out of the closeted space where they reside most of the year to hanging the very last ornament on the tree only to take them all down and store them away for another year it is uniquely hers to savor.
Evan, truth be told, is even less help. Getting him to write thank you cards after the fact can be like pulling teeth. Having said that, the sentiment expressed in his thank you notes over the years has been surprisingly sweet and we actually enjoy looking at them. unbeknownst to him, before they go into the envelope. Peering into the abyss where your children live in what can only be described as a parallel universe can be risky but a risk well worth taking. You never really know what they are going to say or whether or not you might see a side of your child you never knew existed.
It is never all about the presents for we adults in attendance at Uncle Wally's house and I suspect more often than not the gifts going up for grab are re-gifts of sorts or at least that is what Uncle Cliff would have you believe. Even though it's partially or wholly true does it really need to be stated aloud? I do wish we would get back to the Indian grab business and Indian grab only when it comes to gifting at the post Christmas party. I thought we agreed long ago that rather than everyone buying gifts for everyone else, which can come at a considerable expense, that we would just have the Indian grab thing. Gifts for the children were the exception.
Is it me or does it feel weird to both give and receive gifts and do the Indian grab thing? If I thought it would make a difference I would remind everyone why we decided to go with the Indian grab thing and hope for the best the next time round. As for me, I certainly do not want people spending their money to purchase gifts for me. I just don't. I think there are people at that party who can ill afford to be celebrating not one but two Christmases when and where it involves gifting. Make me some cookies or send me packing with a parcel of turkey soup and I'll be just as happy.
Did I mention that I tallied up my bike riding miles for 2018? I keep track on my calendar in the kitchen as to which days I ride and which days I don't. I established a minimum distance that qualifies as a daily ride and, in a nutshell, it is if I ride to the Beach Club just past Jenness Beach going southbound on 1A. I think it is about a 20 minute ride to the Beach Club so that is a forty minute round trip. The full ride is somewhere between 10 and 12 miles round trip and extends to Atlantic Avenue in North Hampton. Duration of the ride is usually around 50 minutes.
As is typically the case, especially in the not-so-good weather, I tell myself that when I get to the Beach Club that I am good to turn around if I am still inclined to do so. If I don't make it as far as the Beach Club, I will remove the "ride" from my calendar. Invariably, by the time I get to the Beach Club I am suitably in stride such that there just ain't no turning back. I think I can count the number of times I actually turned around at the Beach House on one hand. Oh, and before I forget, I rode my bike 2,310 miles in total in 2018.
Weather permitting, I'll need to up my game in 2019 in order to hit my goal of 3,000 miles. Now that I'm riding with temperatures below 40 that should not be a problem. I guess that qualifies as a New Year's resolution. I'd certainly like to read more and write more in this here journal so we'll see how that goes. Starting the year with a book like "The Cruelty Men" which is crazy good is a good omen indeed. Carving out time each day to enjoy a good book can be a challenge but I love challenges so there you have it. As projects go, I like to have a "before" and "after" picture to document my achievements. I've created a section in my iBook labelled "Books I've Read" and that should do the trick.
Liz "Pocahontas" Warren has thrown her hat into the ring for the 2020 presidential sweepstakes. When Trump was asked whether he thinks that she could win a presidential contest, he responded in true Trumpian fashion, "Well, that I don't know. You'd have to ask her psychiatrist." The inference, of course, is that she is nuttier than a fruitcake. Expect Trump to keep beating that drum every day for the next two years (until her DNA hurts.)
We just returned from our trip to Upstate New York to attend uncle Wally's Christmas get-together. It was such a whirlwind trip timewise that I think we needed some time to catch our collective breaths so staying home was okay with me. I should also mention that were it not for Mrs Wally we might well not have a get together at all. Her efforts on behalf of the family when it comes to entertaining and providing for same are indeed herculean. That may going without saying but it does need to be said. In fact, we should collectively say it more often than we do.
We had just enough of this and that in our refrigerator this New Year's Eve that we didn't need to go out although our plan didn't do much for the Ev-man. He was on his own. I think he may have gone out to McDonald's or something but he wasn't gone long. Keeping your loved ones off the roads on New Year's Eve, if possible, is and should be a priority and this year was no different.
We had a good trip to New York despite the fact that it was delayed by a day by icy forecasts throughout Vermont. We even called the Chamber of Commerce in Woodstock, VT, at one point to see if they had any encouraging words about the weather and or the roads. They didn't. Temperatures were solidly in the thirties across the entire route and roads were reportedly slick and icy in many of the low laying areas from start to finish.
Nancy definitely burns the candle at both ends during the Christmas season with holiday preparations for family, work, and everything in between. From hanging ornaments to wrapping presents, she is balls-to-the-walls busy without so much as a lending hand from me. Oh, I might hold a ribbon or two while she splices it with her handy dandy scissors but that's about it.
She even hangs all the ornaments on the tree each year and does so singlehandedly. She makes no effort to enlist assistance from anyone and I think she wouldn't have it any other way. From digging the boxes of ornaments out of the closeted space where they reside most of the year to hanging the very last ornament on the tree only to take them all down and store them away for another year it is uniquely hers to savor.
Evan, truth be told, is even less help. Getting him to write thank you cards after the fact can be like pulling teeth. Having said that, the sentiment expressed in his thank you notes over the years has been surprisingly sweet and we actually enjoy looking at them. unbeknownst to him, before they go into the envelope. Peering into the abyss where your children live in what can only be described as a parallel universe can be risky but a risk well worth taking. You never really know what they are going to say or whether or not you might see a side of your child you never knew existed.
It is never all about the presents for we adults in attendance at Uncle Wally's house and I suspect more often than not the gifts going up for grab are re-gifts of sorts or at least that is what Uncle Cliff would have you believe. Even though it's partially or wholly true does it really need to be stated aloud? I do wish we would get back to the Indian grab business and Indian grab only when it comes to gifting at the post Christmas party. I thought we agreed long ago that rather than everyone buying gifts for everyone else, which can come at a considerable expense, that we would just have the Indian grab thing. Gifts for the children were the exception.
Is it me or does it feel weird to both give and receive gifts and do the Indian grab thing? If I thought it would make a difference I would remind everyone why we decided to go with the Indian grab thing and hope for the best the next time round. As for me, I certainly do not want people spending their money to purchase gifts for me. I just don't. I think there are people at that party who can ill afford to be celebrating not one but two Christmases when and where it involves gifting. Make me some cookies or send me packing with a parcel of turkey soup and I'll be just as happy.
Did I mention that I tallied up my bike riding miles for 2018? I keep track on my calendar in the kitchen as to which days I ride and which days I don't. I established a minimum distance that qualifies as a daily ride and, in a nutshell, it is if I ride to the Beach Club just past Jenness Beach going southbound on 1A. I think it is about a 20 minute ride to the Beach Club so that is a forty minute round trip. The full ride is somewhere between 10 and 12 miles round trip and extends to Atlantic Avenue in North Hampton. Duration of the ride is usually around 50 minutes.
As is typically the case, especially in the not-so-good weather, I tell myself that when I get to the Beach Club that I am good to turn around if I am still inclined to do so. If I don't make it as far as the Beach Club, I will remove the "ride" from my calendar. Invariably, by the time I get to the Beach Club I am suitably in stride such that there just ain't no turning back. I think I can count the number of times I actually turned around at the Beach House on one hand. Oh, and before I forget, I rode my bike 2,310 miles in total in 2018.
Weather permitting, I'll need to up my game in 2019 in order to hit my goal of 3,000 miles. Now that I'm riding with temperatures below 40 that should not be a problem. I guess that qualifies as a New Year's resolution. I'd certainly like to read more and write more in this here journal so we'll see how that goes. Starting the year with a book like "The Cruelty Men" which is crazy good is a good omen indeed. Carving out time each day to enjoy a good book can be a challenge but I love challenges so there you have it. As projects go, I like to have a "before" and "after" picture to document my achievements. I've created a section in my iBook labelled "Books I've Read" and that should do the trick.
Liz "Pocahontas" Warren has thrown her hat into the ring for the 2020 presidential sweepstakes. When Trump was asked whether he thinks that she could win a presidential contest, he responded in true Trumpian fashion, "Well, that I don't know. You'd have to ask her psychiatrist." The inference, of course, is that she is nuttier than a fruitcake. Expect Trump to keep beating that drum every day for the next two years (until her DNA hurts.)