It happened in a psychiatrist’s office.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asked. “Why are you even at _____?” and she named the place where I work.
I should stop here to add that I don’t know this woman, and have never been in her office. You see, I’m a fat guy; A fat guy who’s currently in the process of getting approval for bariatric surgery and one of those steps is to meet with a psychiatrist. I didn’t know anything about this woman other than what I've learned from sitting in her office:
• The waiting room had an unused feel to it. The shelves were dusted, and the magazines arranged neatly, but you got the impression the room was rarely used. Maybe it was the way the children’s toys in the corner were put away a little too nicely. Plus, it hadn’t been vacuumed recently, further adding to the forgotten vibe of the room.
• She had been a panelist on the Oprah Winfrey Show back in the mid-nineties. There was an autographed 8X10 glossy framed beside a signed form letter from Oprah thanking her for being part of the show.
• She was a force of nature. As I was sitting in the room, first filling out the initial paperwork and then beginning on the first of my three assigned personality tests, she came in through the door. Her voice was a cannon that blasted the stuffy air out of the room and hid the thin simper of her assistant’s soft rock radio. Wiping at her nose with a wad of tissues, she called me “Steve” and welcomed me to her office. “Come on back, come on back! You’ll finish those up after we talk.” Then to her assistant: “Sonya, he’ll finish up after, OK?” as if she hadn’t heard the booming instructions when they were shot at me.
We went back into one of the offices where between sniffles she explained that she didn’t see many patients these days and mostly worked with litigators serving as an expert witness. “I do maybe one or two of these bariatric cases per month lately” she explained. “I like to do them, of course. I’m just really busy.”
The conversation was fast and easy. I had never been to a psychiatrist before, but went into it with the thought that I would be completely open and as forthcoming as possible. We chatted about general addiction, my past, my daughter, and the back and forth came naturally. I felt like we were both enjoying the discussion. She was quick-witted and personable, sharing antidotes from her own past here and there when appropriate.
Interruped briefly for a nose blowing break, talk turned to work. She knows some people who have worked at the company I work, so was familiar somewhat with the environment. I explained that while not passionate about the work I do, I enjoy doing a good job and see myself as a constant that people can depend on. I could tell she didn’t like the answer.
“Look, it’s really none of my business. I don’t even know you and I’m not your therapist. Still though…Can I ask you a question? Why are you even at _____?”
She knew the answer before I did, but she waited for me to say it.
“Because I don’t know what I really want.”
We chatted some more about going back to school or changing careers before the rest of the answer came to me: “I think there’s something missing in me. There are people that I know who are creative and successful, not necessarily money-wise, but successful with what they do. They all seem to have this drive inside that pushes them to do what they love. I don’t seem to have that.”
This wasn’t groundbreaking. It was no epiphany. It was something I had considered previously before pushing the thought away. This was the first time I had really said it aloud though. It all boiled down to “I don’t know what to do” or, worse: “I don’t want to do anything”.
My newfound one-time-only therapist didn’t settle down on that topic though, and so we touched on childhood and moving around and she drew parallels between my father and I which while maybe not flattering, were again not groundbreaking material. It was a really great conversation. At the end of the day, there are only a few people who don’t enjoy talking about themselves to someone who declares it all fascinating material.
We stood, shook hands, and as we stepped back out into the waiting area where I would have to finish my personality tests, she declared me a delight to her assistant who said “Oh, that’s wonderful!” before discussing the rest of her schedule. I sat back down in the chair I had left 55 minutes before, and started on my tests with something bothering me just slightly about the experience. It wasn’t until I was walking to the car that I realized what it was.
It’s a cliché now, a man sitting in a chair at a gentleman’s club getting a lap dance on a Tuesday afternoon, thinking that the girl rubbing against him has really come to like him over time. In the face of all that skin, it’s easy for some to forget that she’s working and that when you ask for one more dance she’s thinking how she’s one step closer to paying rent on time. I knew guys like this, especially in high school. They’d come back from the clubs they’d managed to get in with Polaroids of them paired with Destiny or Chablis, smiles wide on their faces. They’d talk about how she even stuck around for a few minutes after the dance was over and really seemed interested when they described the car they were going to buy next month. (“She told me to go back and I can give her a ride in it!”)
I realized, putting my key into my compact car (so normal it’s nearly invisible), that in my way, I was very similar to these guys. Here I was enjoying a talk with a bright woman who was being paid (well, I might add) to be interested. Whether or not she was actually pretending wasn’t the point. She was good enough at her job that I forgot she was making rent money while I was busy being engaging.
Don’t misread me; I’m not so cynical that I’m directly comparing the two professions. I’m just saying that when money is exchanged, intentions are clouded. Just because she gets you hard doesn’t mean she’s in love, and just because she helps you find insight doesn’t mean she finds you interesting. It’s a job.
Driving home, I decided it didn’t matter. I wasn’t less engaging if she made $250 out of the deal. I’m a charming motherfucker.
I also decided on that drive that I would write about my time with my single-use therapist who had her fifteen minutes of fame with Oprah.
See? I do want to do something.
Showing posts with label a good day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label a good day. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Friday, December 25, 2009
Presents
It started with an unexpected call from Jen's doctor last Monday night. I had just made it back out to my car after giving up on Best Buy for a last minute gift for Jen when I saw Dr. Cummins' name come up on my Caller ID. It was almost 7:00 in the evening, and I was too surprised by her call to be concerned.
In the next ten minutes she explained to me that the last round of blood tests Jen had done came back indicating an increased chance that the baby would have Downs Syndrome. The first round of tests we had done put our odds at 1 in 1500 or so, but the more recent results brought us down to 1 in 200. She explained that it wasn't time to panic, but she wanted some additional tests done. Resigned to a Christmas in purgatory, Jen and I settled in, trying not to count the moments until the specialist's office would call to schedule the follow up testing.
Tuesday was tough. We knew enough to know we shouldn't be too upset, that results like this are common, but we were regardless.
Wednesday, Jen got the call and learned that they could squeeze us in Christmas Eve if we could be available. We could. We were certain that we'd have to wait a week to be able to speak with the doctor about the test result, but at least we'd get the process started. Plus, if the kid cooperated, we'd be able to find out if it's a boy or a girl.
Thursday morning, the Ultrasound Tech Jill explained some of the things that she'd be looking for, and to our relief explained that we'd get to meet with the doctor after they had a chance to discuss the results. As she worked, Jill pointed things out along the way. She told us immediately that the brain looked perfectly developed. She pointed out the kid's pinkie fingers had three bones, not just two which is a common sign of Downs. She told us enough good news that we were able to relax and just enjoy watching the kid wiggle around on the screen. So much wiggling, in fact, that she had a hard time keeping up with the twists and turns.
She agreed to not tell us what the gender of the kid was, but rather write it down in a card Jen brought along with us and had us look away when she headed south with the camera. A few minutes later and we were finished and in the doctor's office where he confirmed everything Jill had said while she worked. Relieved, we headed out to finish our separate days.
So, Christmas morning, after opening the few presents we bought for each other, we sat down on the love seat, A Christmas Story playing quietly in the background, and opened our card together. There was an arrow pointing to some indiscernible smudge with white text "IT'S A GIRL!" I saw it before Jen did. I said something, but now I don't remember what it was. Then we read the card.
"Merry Christmas! It's a Girl! Congratulations! Have a wonderful Holiday! Sincerely, Jill ____"
In the next ten minutes she explained to me that the last round of blood tests Jen had done came back indicating an increased chance that the baby would have Downs Syndrome. The first round of tests we had done put our odds at 1 in 1500 or so, but the more recent results brought us down to 1 in 200. She explained that it wasn't time to panic, but she wanted some additional tests done. Resigned to a Christmas in purgatory, Jen and I settled in, trying not to count the moments until the specialist's office would call to schedule the follow up testing.
Tuesday was tough. We knew enough to know we shouldn't be too upset, that results like this are common, but we were regardless.
Wednesday, Jen got the call and learned that they could squeeze us in Christmas Eve if we could be available. We could. We were certain that we'd have to wait a week to be able to speak with the doctor about the test result, but at least we'd get the process started. Plus, if the kid cooperated, we'd be able to find out if it's a boy or a girl.
Thursday morning, the Ultrasound Tech Jill explained some of the things that she'd be looking for, and to our relief explained that we'd get to meet with the doctor after they had a chance to discuss the results. As she worked, Jill pointed things out along the way. She told us immediately that the brain looked perfectly developed. She pointed out the kid's pinkie fingers had three bones, not just two which is a common sign of Downs. She told us enough good news that we were able to relax and just enjoy watching the kid wiggle around on the screen. So much wiggling, in fact, that she had a hard time keeping up with the twists and turns.
She agreed to not tell us what the gender of the kid was, but rather write it down in a card Jen brought along with us and had us look away when she headed south with the camera. A few minutes later and we were finished and in the doctor's office where he confirmed everything Jill had said while she worked. Relieved, we headed out to finish our separate days.
So, Christmas morning, after opening the few presents we bought for each other, we sat down on the love seat, A Christmas Story playing quietly in the background, and opened our card together. There was an arrow pointing to some indiscernible smudge with white text "IT'S A GIRL!" I saw it before Jen did. I said something, but now I don't remember what it was. Then we read the card.
"Merry Christmas! It's a Girl! Congratulations! Have a wonderful Holiday! Sincerely, Jill ____"
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
Winter's Return & Spring's Training
The rain from last week had brought the earthworms out of the soil, and they lay stretched across my parking pad and sidewalk, bloated, drowning, and stinking. Today, the local news said we're expecting snow, and I imagine I'll get home tonight to find white crusted earthworms scattered across the pavement.
The cold weather is supposed to stay a few days just to make room for more rain by the end of the week, so immediately my hopes of bike commuting are gone. Ah well...it's early. The actuality of Spring will finally catch up with the calendar, and when it does, I'll be ready.
Spring was in effect this weekend at least, and we milked it. Saturday we had to go do SAT testing in the morning. I managed to finish reading No Country For Old Men before the first half of the test was over and had to run out to the car for my backup book (another stupid vampire book in the series I can't stop reading). After the testing, we headed to my brother's house to hang out for the afternoon. We wound up taking a hike 
through their local park that afternoon (that's my brother in the first pic, looking like he's ready to strangle mother nature and curse the sun) and heading out for lunch afterward. It's painfully obvious to me how much worse of shape I'm in than I was just last fall. This fact was demonstrated yet again when we went hiking the next morning down in Hocking Hills (second pic). Still, I survived.
After the hike I went over to The North Market to do some meat shopping and loaded up on some dead cow at Blue's Creek Farm. They were really cool, taking lots of time to answer my questions (animals are free range, free fed, are taken to slaughter weekly and put down using a .22 or stun gun) even though the market was packed. I hit up The Fish Guys for some salmon to grill that night, and then stopped to grab a piece of baklava on my way out. Then it was more shopping before making dinner (the aforementioned salmon along with steamed broccoli and a small spinach salad) and watching The Fresh Prince of Bel Air in Seven Pounds (not bad).
This morning I had the idea of hiring Kevin Smith to come in and play me for a week since I really can't afford to take a week off right now. If he put on a bald wig, muttered sarcastically and just clicked away at his keyboard and mouse all day, I don't think anyone would notice he's not me. Wonder how much that would set me back?
The cold weather is supposed to stay a few days just to make room for more rain by the end of the week, so immediately my hopes of bike commuting are gone. Ah well...it's early. The actuality of Spring will finally catch up with the calendar, and when it does, I'll be ready.
Spring was in effect this weekend at least, and we milked it. Saturday we had to go do SAT testing in the morning. I managed to finish reading No Country For Old Men before the first half of the test was over and had to run out to the car for my backup book (another stupid vampire book in the series I can't stop reading). After the testing, we headed to my brother's house to hang out for the afternoon. We wound up taking a hike 
through their local park that afternoon (that's my brother in the first pic, looking like he's ready to strangle mother nature and curse the sun) and heading out for lunch afterward. It's painfully obvious to me how much worse of shape I'm in than I was just last fall. This fact was demonstrated yet again when we went hiking the next morning down in Hocking Hills (second pic). Still, I survived.After the hike I went over to The North Market to do some meat shopping and loaded up on some dead cow at Blue's Creek Farm. They were really cool, taking lots of time to answer my questions (animals are free range, free fed, are taken to slaughter weekly and put down using a .22 or stun gun) even though the market was packed. I hit up The Fish Guys for some salmon to grill that night, and then stopped to grab a piece of baklava on my way out. Then it was more shopping before making dinner (the aforementioned salmon along with steamed broccoli and a small spinach salad) and watching The Fresh Prince of Bel Air in Seven Pounds (not bad).
This morning I had the idea of hiring Kevin Smith to come in and play me for a week since I really can't afford to take a week off right now. If he put on a bald wig, muttered sarcastically and just clicked away at his keyboard and mouse all day, I don't think anyone would notice he's not me. Wonder how much that would set me back?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Sunday. That's My Fun Day. My I Don't Have to Run Day.
Slept in, and then stayed in bed to read for a bit. Jen heard the pages turning from the other room (seriously) and came in asking what we were going to have for breakfast. After realizing we had nothing, she left me to my book.
After I downed a a strange breakfast (a salad with strawberries and tofu), we went to go see Last House on the Left. As a kid, I watched the first one amazed and scared and disgusted. This time was different. Movies have come a long way since Wes Craven first made his grainy little exploitation movie, and that was reflected in this new version. Not much of a remake, though there are some familiar moments. The one thing I was waiting for (oral sex gone horribly wrong) was missing, but wouldn't have fit in the film. Still, having things that didn't fit didn't stop them from putting in a death by microwave. I didn't care. I liked it.
Funny thing about that microwave...Jen and I had the place completely to ourselves. No other soul shared the theater. We made it all the way through the movie until the very end when two loud older women came into the room.
"Well, the place isn't very crowded yet!"
"Where do you want to sit?"
This went of for a moment or two before Jen snapped and asked them to be quiet as we were trying to watch the last couple minutes of our film.
"Oh, sorry" they said four times each. We said "That's fine" and resisted the urge to add "Now shut the fuck up."
The ladies made their way to the row behind us and settled in with the occasional whisper. It occurred to me that they didn't seem like the key demographic for a movie like this, but was more surprised that they were willing to watch the end of the film before they had made it through the first hour and a half.
On screen, a man's head messily exploded in a microwave making Jen and I chuckle to ourselves, but it was quiet behind for the first time since the two women had made their way into their seats. The credits came up and Jen and I stepped out into the lighted hallway of our local megaplex. Walking away, I looked over my shoulder to see that the digital sign above our theater door that shows what movie is showing had changed to "Confessions of a Shopoholic".
That brought me so much joy that these two ladies were were easily 35 minutes early for their movie had their rudeness repaid by inadvertently watching some guy's head come apart in a bubbling spray.
Enjoy your movie, ladies.
We rounded out the day by getting newly purchased produce chopped and sliced and ready for the week while singing along with an old Eagles live album. I'm not a big fan of The Eagles, but Jen and I both grew up with them, and we know all the words. Sometimes, that's just what you need.
Now, we're literally sitting back to back in the den, listening to a Band of Horses record and having a drink. Soon, it'll be another salad and some bad TV. Can't wait. Really.
After I downed a a strange breakfast (a salad with strawberries and tofu), we went to go see Last House on the Left. As a kid, I watched the first one amazed and scared and disgusted. This time was different. Movies have come a long way since Wes Craven first made his grainy little exploitation movie, and that was reflected in this new version. Not much of a remake, though there are some familiar moments. The one thing I was waiting for (oral sex gone horribly wrong) was missing, but wouldn't have fit in the film. Still, having things that didn't fit didn't stop them from putting in a death by microwave. I didn't care. I liked it.
Funny thing about that microwave...Jen and I had the place completely to ourselves. No other soul shared the theater. We made it all the way through the movie until the very end when two loud older women came into the room.
"Well, the place isn't very crowded yet!"
"Where do you want to sit?"
This went of for a moment or two before Jen snapped and asked them to be quiet as we were trying to watch the last couple minutes of our film.
"Oh, sorry" they said four times each. We said "That's fine" and resisted the urge to add "Now shut the fuck up."
The ladies made their way to the row behind us and settled in with the occasional whisper. It occurred to me that they didn't seem like the key demographic for a movie like this, but was more surprised that they were willing to watch the end of the film before they had made it through the first hour and a half.
On screen, a man's head messily exploded in a microwave making Jen and I chuckle to ourselves, but it was quiet behind for the first time since the two women had made their way into their seats. The credits came up and Jen and I stepped out into the lighted hallway of our local megaplex. Walking away, I looked over my shoulder to see that the digital sign above our theater door that shows what movie is showing had changed to "Confessions of a Shopoholic".
That brought me so much joy that these two ladies were were easily 35 minutes early for their movie had their rudeness repaid by inadvertently watching some guy's head come apart in a bubbling spray.
Enjoy your movie, ladies.
We rounded out the day by getting newly purchased produce chopped and sliced and ready for the week while singing along with an old Eagles live album. I'm not a big fan of The Eagles, but Jen and I both grew up with them, and we know all the words. Sometimes, that's just what you need.
Now, we're literally sitting back to back in the den, listening to a Band of Horses record and having a drink. Soon, it'll be another salad and some bad TV. Can't wait. Really.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Mmmmmm...Full of Gnatty Goodness
Woke up late this morning. Really late for me. I rolled over and saw the clock said 9:30 and was a bit surprised. I know, some of you are thinking that's not even close to being late, but I can't help it. The older I get the more I get pissy about wasting a day in bed. Still, I managed to stay in bed for awhile longer to put a dent on "No County for Old Men". I've been wanting to read the book since I saw the film, and am not disappointed so far.
I let the dogs out to pee, and followed along to pick poop up out of the back yard. It felt so amazing outside that I went in and told Jen to get ready because there was no way in hell we were going to stay inside on a day like today. We got ready and headed to our favorite park on the North Side for a walk. After being there for a little bit, we got lazy and sat and watched ducks and geese on the lake. Not wanting to go home yet, we grabbed some Subway and went back to the park to eat (and play around on the deserted playground for a bit).
Two stops for planting supplies later, we were home to do a bit of yard work. I tried to pull as many of last year's leaves from under our bushes in front as possible while Jen planted some little pots with flowers. I get the feeling we'll be dragging those things in and out for the next several weeks until it's warm enough to leave them out all night.
Then, I finally got to go for a bike ride. It's my first this year, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a bit painful. I felt every little hill, and I was pretty fucking far away from being fast, but I made it to my office and back in one piece, so I can't complain too much. Well, except for when it comes to the bugs. The gnats were everywhere and I swallowed more than my share with my out-of-shape-mouth-breathing. I even had one lodge itself into the corner of my eye and refused to get out for half a mile. Good times.
I should be able to start bike commuting some this week, though I doubt my legs will want to tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday and Wednesday though. After that it's supposed to rain.
(Behold the beauty that is my commuter bike. Equipped with water bottle and rear tire rack to hold all my work stuff. Yeah, I'm that cool.)
Jen and I finished the night by hanging out here in the den. She played around on Facebook while I listened to some records (Jesus & Mary Chain, Wilco, etc.) and had a glass of wine.
It wasn't exciting, but if I could live every day of my life like this, I would.
I let the dogs out to pee, and followed along to pick poop up out of the back yard. It felt so amazing outside that I went in and told Jen to get ready because there was no way in hell we were going to stay inside on a day like today. We got ready and headed to our favorite park on the North Side for a walk. After being there for a little bit, we got lazy and sat and watched ducks and geese on the lake. Not wanting to go home yet, we grabbed some Subway and went back to the park to eat (and play around on the deserted playground for a bit).
Two stops for planting supplies later, we were home to do a bit of yard work. I tried to pull as many of last year's leaves from under our bushes in front as possible while Jen planted some little pots with flowers. I get the feeling we'll be dragging those things in and out for the next several weeks until it's warm enough to leave them out all night.
Then, I finally got to go for a bike ride. It's my first this year, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a bit painful. I felt every little hill, and I was pretty fucking far away from being fast, but I made it to my office and back in one piece, so I can't complain too much. Well, except for when it comes to the bugs. The gnats were everywhere and I swallowed more than my share with my out-of-shape-mouth-breathing. I even had one lodge itself into the corner of my eye and refused to get out for half a mile. Good times.
I should be able to start bike commuting some this week, though I doubt my legs will want to tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday and Wednesday though. After that it's supposed to rain.
(Behold the beauty that is my commuter bike. Equipped with water bottle and rear tire rack to hold all my work stuff. Yeah, I'm that cool.)
Jen and I finished the night by hanging out here in the den. She played around on Facebook while I listened to some records (Jesus & Mary Chain, Wilco, etc.) and had a glass of wine.
It wasn't exciting, but if I could live every day of my life like this, I would.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Sleep Deprivation and Crazy Crazy Nights
I slept forever. After a week of mostly getting in four or five hours of sleep, I crashed for at least eight last night. I don't know what my deal is lately. It's like if I actually go to bed, I might miss something great. So, instead of sleeping and being able to approach the next day with a fresh state of mind I:
1 - Troll the Internet looking for good deals on LP's.
2 - Play games.
3 - Facebook.
4 - Attempt to fix our desktop PC (which I finally succeeded at).
5 - Reading.
So, it's not like I'm robbing myself of sleep in order to change the world or do something that is so amazing that I just can't stop to go to bed. No, I'll sit there doing one of the above mentioned five things, and fight sleep. I'll nod off, and then force myself to refocus so I can turn another page or read another paragraph. Not sure what my deal is.
I do know I need to knock it off next week though. I've got tons of shit to do at work and being a zombie doesn't help matters.
---
Jen and I caught the first showing of "Revolutionary Road" this morning. I'm not normally drawn to a movie with Leonardo, but I'm a big Kate Winslet fan (Little Children. Jesus, that's just good) and I will always watch what Sam Mendes does. It was a tough watch (especially for 11:00 in the morning) but it really was beautiful.
After our traditional post movie lunch of a cup of soup and half a sandwich we went our separate ways for a bit. Jen went for a haircut and I went record shopping. I went back to Magnolia Thunderpussy and picked up a few new LP's and then decided I'd check out another store called Ace in the Hole about ten minutes from there.
"Ace in the Hole" blew. I know what you're thinking: With a name like that, how is it possible it wasn't the coolest record store ever. Shockingly, it sucked.
While they did have a couple of cool first pressings of some more obscure Bob Dylan albums, the rest of the store was filled with enough 70's rock and Jam Band crap to fill three average stores. Since I wasn't in need of either of Asia's hit albums, I said fuck it and headed to Best Buy. I'm trying to shop local, so I'll keep trying some other stores around the area. Still, I was glad I stopped by there since they had a couple of discs I've been wanting.
And here I am, tearing it up on a crazy Friday night. I am really going to have to start doing more interesting shit to keep all three of you still reading. I'll come up with something soon.
1 - Troll the Internet looking for good deals on LP's.
2 - Play games.
3 - Facebook.
4 - Attempt to fix our desktop PC (which I finally succeeded at).
5 - Reading.
So, it's not like I'm robbing myself of sleep in order to change the world or do something that is so amazing that I just can't stop to go to bed. No, I'll sit there doing one of the above mentioned five things, and fight sleep. I'll nod off, and then force myself to refocus so I can turn another page or read another paragraph. Not sure what my deal is.
I do know I need to knock it off next week though. I've got tons of shit to do at work and being a zombie doesn't help matters.
---
Jen and I caught the first showing of "Revolutionary Road" this morning. I'm not normally drawn to a movie with Leonardo, but I'm a big Kate Winslet fan (Little Children. Jesus, that's just good) and I will always watch what Sam Mendes does. It was a tough watch (especially for 11:00 in the morning) but it really was beautiful.
After our traditional post movie lunch of a cup of soup and half a sandwich we went our separate ways for a bit. Jen went for a haircut and I went record shopping. I went back to Magnolia Thunderpussy and picked up a few new LP's and then decided I'd check out another store called Ace in the Hole about ten minutes from there.
"Ace in the Hole" blew. I know what you're thinking: With a name like that, how is it possible it wasn't the coolest record store ever. Shockingly, it sucked.
While they did have a couple of cool first pressings of some more obscure Bob Dylan albums, the rest of the store was filled with enough 70's rock and Jam Band crap to fill three average stores. Since I wasn't in need of either of Asia's hit albums, I said fuck it and headed to Best Buy. I'm trying to shop local, so I'll keep trying some other stores around the area. Still, I was glad I stopped by there since they had a couple of discs I've been wanting.
And here I am, tearing it up on a crazy Friday night. I am really going to have to start doing more interesting shit to keep all three of you still reading. I'll come up with something soon.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Thanksgiving and Everything After
Normally, me and the wife would pack up our meager potluck offering and head to my brother's place for Thanksgiving. This year though, Jen's mom flew into town, and as a result we wound up deciding to kick it at our house this year for the big feast. Now, I've never cooked Thanksgiving dinner in my life, but I figured I could muddle through. I did. Homeboy cooked it up and surprisingly everything came out pretty well. It might even stick as a new tradition. We'll see.
Friday, we just stayed close to home, drinking wine and watching movies. In the past, I've always referred to Black Friday as Godfather Day since we'd stay home and watch Godfather I & II (never...ever III). But, in mixed company we settled on me hitting Blockbuster for some flicks and then surfed the couch. I started getting antsy by the end of the day, feeling like I wasn't getting anything done, but it was good to just hang out with Jen's mom and kind of reconnect a bit with her.
Saturday was straight up drunkeration. We headed out to a couple of wineries and wound up bringing a case home with us to replenish a supply that had taken a surprising hit over the previous two days. With our supplies tucked away in the racks, we ended our night with yet more leftovers and opened a few bottles.
Our last day together was spent shopping. Jen's mother very generously gave us a bit of a Christmas present early. Jen wanted curtains, so we got to go shop for those. I've never shopped for curtains before, but it was exactly as much fun as I thought it might be. My mood lighted though once I was told that there would be enough cash left over for a record player. I've picked out a very basic model that I'm going to set up in the den with a new component system. Very old school. Can't wait.
And that's that. Mom-In-Law flew back Monday morning, and I'm back at work fighting a cold and just fighting to get through to another weekend. We're quickly using up 2008, and I gotta be honest, I'm not going to miss much of it. There were high points for sure, but I think mostly it was the kind of year you have to have to make you more grateful for all the goods ones.
Hope you all had a good long Thanksgiving weekend. I'll be around...
Friday, we just stayed close to home, drinking wine and watching movies. In the past, I've always referred to Black Friday as Godfather Day since we'd stay home and watch Godfather I & II (never...ever III). But, in mixed company we settled on me hitting Blockbuster for some flicks and then surfed the couch. I started getting antsy by the end of the day, feeling like I wasn't getting anything done, but it was good to just hang out with Jen's mom and kind of reconnect a bit with her.
Saturday was straight up drunkeration. We headed out to a couple of wineries and wound up bringing a case home with us to replenish a supply that had taken a surprising hit over the previous two days. With our supplies tucked away in the racks, we ended our night with yet more leftovers and opened a few bottles.
Our last day together was spent shopping. Jen's mother very generously gave us a bit of a Christmas present early. Jen wanted curtains, so we got to go shop for those. I've never shopped for curtains before, but it was exactly as much fun as I thought it might be. My mood lighted though once I was told that there would be enough cash left over for a record player. I've picked out a very basic model that I'm going to set up in the den with a new component system. Very old school. Can't wait.
And that's that. Mom-In-Law flew back Monday morning, and I'm back at work fighting a cold and just fighting to get through to another weekend. We're quickly using up 2008, and I gotta be honest, I'm not going to miss much of it. There were high points for sure, but I think mostly it was the kind of year you have to have to make you more grateful for all the goods ones.
Hope you all had a good long Thanksgiving weekend. I'll be around...
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Vetern's Day Cancerectomy
Yesterday I took headed out of the office around noon. Technically, I wasn't even supposed to go in yesterday, but the company I am hoping to work for soon asked if I could hang out for a bit to start work on a project, so I did. (I know that it doesn't seem to make sense that I would go in to work my job to do work for a company I don't yet work for, but in my world, it makes a certain sort of sense. Just go with it.)
So, I went to buy a coat. All of my old jackets and winter coats are three or four sizes too big, so I headed out and scored not one, but two, coats. I threw a new knit hat into the mix, so now I"m ready for winter's worst. Bring it.
After two stores, I still had some time to kill so I headed to Half Price Books over near campus. HPB isn't a place where you go in looking for a certain book because more often than not, you won't find it. It IS a place to go in and wander around for a couple of hours and get a bunch of shit you didn't realize you needed until you saw it on the shelf. That's what I did. I looked at old vinyl (the records always smell like mildew...it's comforting somehow), flipped through graphic novels, drooled over their locked collection of First Editions, and wound up spending $20 on four new books. I love that place.
Then, I picked Jen up from her office, and headed over to her doctor's office. We had been waiting for this day for almost a full month since getting the call that the mole on her chin was cancerous, and the wait was taking its toll on her. She was just ready to have the damn thing cut out, so that's exactly what they did. It took about twenty-five minutes and I got to watch them do it. Well, I watched part of it anyway. Normally, I would have been fascinated by the whole process, but it's different when it's your wife being cut. I sat at the end of the table near her feet, rubbing her ankle every once in a while, but avoiding the actual action.
I did see many blood soaked gauze squares being piled on a surgical tray. I saw the rose tattoo on the back of the assistant's neck. I saw a little half inch bleeding squiggle of cancer and skin get held to the light before being lowered into a little cup that will be shipped off to a lab for testing.
Jen was quiet for the most part, and was a trooper through the whole thing. Like I said, she was just ready for them to be done. And now they are. In two weeks the stitches come out and then we can get on with everything else. I'm not sure yet what "everything else" consists of, but I'm ready for it.
So, I went to buy a coat. All of my old jackets and winter coats are three or four sizes too big, so I headed out and scored not one, but two, coats. I threw a new knit hat into the mix, so now I"m ready for winter's worst. Bring it.
After two stores, I still had some time to kill so I headed to Half Price Books over near campus. HPB isn't a place where you go in looking for a certain book because more often than not, you won't find it. It IS a place to go in and wander around for a couple of hours and get a bunch of shit you didn't realize you needed until you saw it on the shelf. That's what I did. I looked at old vinyl (the records always smell like mildew...it's comforting somehow), flipped through graphic novels, drooled over their locked collection of First Editions, and wound up spending $20 on four new books. I love that place.
Then, I picked Jen up from her office, and headed over to her doctor's office. We had been waiting for this day for almost a full month since getting the call that the mole on her chin was cancerous, and the wait was taking its toll on her. She was just ready to have the damn thing cut out, so that's exactly what they did. It took about twenty-five minutes and I got to watch them do it. Well, I watched part of it anyway. Normally, I would have been fascinated by the whole process, but it's different when it's your wife being cut. I sat at the end of the table near her feet, rubbing her ankle every once in a while, but avoiding the actual action.
I did see many blood soaked gauze squares being piled on a surgical tray. I saw the rose tattoo on the back of the assistant's neck. I saw a little half inch bleeding squiggle of cancer and skin get held to the light before being lowered into a little cup that will be shipped off to a lab for testing.
Jen was quiet for the most part, and was a trooper through the whole thing. Like I said, she was just ready for them to be done. And now they are. In two weeks the stitches come out and then we can get on with everything else. I'm not sure yet what "everything else" consists of, but I'm ready for it.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Other Voices, Other Rooms
I can't believe I actually got to sleep in on both days of this weekend. That's practically unheard of these days, so it was big news to be in bed past 8:00. In addition to all the sleeping, we managed to do a few things too.
A year or two ago, Jen and I were sitting around drinking beers with her mom and going through old pictures. In the pile was a shot of Jen when she was about three years old. She is standing behind a car that sits with its door open still. Her hair is a tangled and blowing in the wind and she has on this little jean jacket thing that just cracks me up when I look at it. Her face is what's perfect though. It's not the cheesy good natured smile of a kid who loves to have her picture taken, but rather this solemn insecurity that comes through. It's heartbreakingly beautiful and I had it blown up, and printed in black and white to put on the wall downstairs.
Jen felt a bit odd having a pic of her on the wall by itself, so yesterday I went through some Merryman family photos and found one of me. It's a close up of me around the same age as Jen, and I have my goofy smile on. On the plus side, it's a sincere smile not the forced "I'm having my picture taken" variety. Tonight, I got both shots framed and will get them hung tomorrow. I was going to do it tonight, but didn't have the right wall anchors. We'll fix that tomorrow.
Today, we went to see the Andy Warhol exhibit
that's here in town. Columbus is actually the only US stop for Andy Warhol: Other Voices, Other Rooms, and we felt fortunate to have the chance to see it. Click on the link if you'd like the full breakdown of what was displayed, but the short list is an amazing collection of his print work, photographs, and a massive amount of film displayed on dozens of screens. While I like some of his work, I never claimed to be a massive follower, but it really was amazing to see the sheer volume of the man's output.
A year or two ago, Jen and I were sitting around drinking beers with her mom and going through old pictures. In the pile was a shot of Jen when she was about three years old. She is standing behind a car that sits with its door open still. Her hair is a tangled and blowing in the wind and she has on this little jean jacket thing that just cracks me up when I look at it. Her face is what's perfect though. It's not the cheesy good natured smile of a kid who loves to have her picture taken, but rather this solemn insecurity that comes through. It's heartbreakingly beautiful and I had it blown up, and printed in black and white to put on the wall downstairs.
Jen felt a bit odd having a pic of her on the wall by itself, so yesterday I went through some Merryman family photos and found one of me. It's a close up of me around the same age as Jen, and I have my goofy smile on. On the plus side, it's a sincere smile not the forced "I'm having my picture taken" variety. Tonight, I got both shots framed and will get them hung tomorrow. I was going to do it tonight, but didn't have the right wall anchors. We'll fix that tomorrow.
Today, we went to see the Andy Warhol exhibit
that's here in town. Columbus is actually the only US stop for Andy Warhol: Other Voices, Other Rooms, and we felt fortunate to have the chance to see it. Click on the link if you'd like the full breakdown of what was displayed, but the short list is an amazing collection of his print work, photographs, and a massive amount of film displayed on dozens of screens. While I like some of his work, I never claimed to be a massive follower, but it really was amazing to see the sheer volume of the man's output.
Jen and I roamed the halls of the Wexner Center, checking out old 16mm film of a man inserting a paintbrush into his rectum and then paint a portrait of Andy while Andy looked on, snapping the occasional photograph. We played in the area 
they had set aside for a miniature "Clouds" display. (The clouds in question being large foil pillows filled with a light helium mixture floating around one corner of the gallery.) I stood with rapt attention at every mention or performance by The Velvet Underground. We read excerpts of Truman Capote's Marilyn Monroe interview for Andy's magazine. We sat mesmerized by some of the screen tests that he shot as the subject would go from campy, to bored, to finally being upset that the process wasn't over.
they had set aside for a miniature "Clouds" display. (The clouds in question being large foil pillows filled with a light helium mixture floating around one corner of the gallery.) I stood with rapt attention at every mention or performance by The Velvet Underground. We read excerpts of Truman Capote's Marilyn Monroe interview for Andy's magazine. We sat mesmerized by some of the screen tests that he shot as the subject would go from campy, to bored, to finally being upset that the process wasn't over. 
Whatever your feelings about Campbell's Soup Cans, Multiple Marilyns, or Pop Art in general, it was a great way to spend the afternoon and it was good to just get out and spend some time looking at art again. We haven't done that for awhile, and just being out and about wakes you up a bit and gets you thinking. Some of it we loved, some of it we were indifferent to, but we were happy just roaming around. Plus, did I mention that a guy had a paint brush in his ass? How awesome is that? The only way that could be better is if he were a caricature artist at Cedar Pointe. "Oh, OK. You like horses? How bout if I draw you sitting on a horse? Great! Here, let me just bend over..."
---
After absorbing all things Andy we headed over to Panera for a late lunch. After rounding up half a sandwich and a bowl of soup each, we found a table near the fireplace and settled in. I was watching a guy who was sitting outside drinking from a Panera branded cup and smoking a cigarette like there was no tomorrow. He would take a hit, exhale in this lazy way where he would just open his mouth in an "O" and the smoke would just pour out of his lungs, and then immediately take another hit. There were no quick breaths of pure air in between, just this crazy sucking followed by letting his mouth hang open to let the flood of smoke rise up and sting his eyes. I was enthralled. When he lit another cigarette immediately, I thought it odd but remember thinking "Whatever it takes to get through it, buddy".
When he took three drags and then threw the butt on the ground ten feet to his right, lit a new cigarette, then walked over picked up the one he threw to the ground to take one more hit before putting it in the ashtray and then turn his attention to the new cigarette, I started giving Jen, who had her back to the entertainment, the play by play.
After a few minutes of me explaining that the guy was taking three or four quick drags and then throwing the still lit cigarettes on the ground, lighting a new one, and then going back for the grounded butts, she picked up her chair and came around to my side of the table. To the others in the restaurant we might have looked like thirtysomethings in love, but we were just both enthralled by this strange bit of madness in the middle of Upper Arlington.
He waved at kids, he smoked, he littered, he smoked his litter, he took sips of water from his cup with shaking hands, he smoked, he coughed, and then he did it all again. Sadly, just like my bowl of Chicken Noodle Soup, the craziness came to an end. Before I could get into my shortbread cookie, he had rounded the corner. We left shortly after and kept an eye out for him as we drove out of the neighborhood, but he was not to be seen.
And that's that. We came home and watched "True Blood" and I'm about to wrap up the night with a graphic novel by Joe Hill. Jen's been in bed for over an hour already and should be out cold. I probably won't be much further behind her.
When he took three drags and then threw the butt on the ground ten feet to his right, lit a new cigarette, then walked over picked up the one he threw to the ground to take one more hit before putting it in the ashtray and then turn his attention to the new cigarette, I started giving Jen, who had her back to the entertainment, the play by play.
After a few minutes of me explaining that the guy was taking three or four quick drags and then throwing the still lit cigarettes on the ground, lighting a new one, and then going back for the grounded butts, she picked up her chair and came around to my side of the table. To the others in the restaurant we might have looked like thirtysomethings in love, but we were just both enthralled by this strange bit of madness in the middle of Upper Arlington.
He waved at kids, he smoked, he littered, he smoked his litter, he took sips of water from his cup with shaking hands, he smoked, he coughed, and then he did it all again. Sadly, just like my bowl of Chicken Noodle Soup, the craziness came to an end. Before I could get into my shortbread cookie, he had rounded the corner. We left shortly after and kept an eye out for him as we drove out of the neighborhood, but he was not to be seen.
And that's that. We came home and watched "True Blood" and I'm about to wrap up the night with a graphic novel by Joe Hill. Jen's been in bed for over an hour already and should be out cold. I probably won't be much further behind her.
Friday, October 31, 2008
My Kick Ass Life
So, last night I was just hanging out, pulling up directions to get to a church my cousin is getting married in tonight, when the phone rang. Who was it? Edward Fucking Norton, that's who.
Ed "Fight Club" Norton was just calling to say hey, and let me know that I need to vote for Obama. He reminded me that I don't need to sit around and wait until Election Day to do it. I can vote early in the great state of Ohio. Mr. American History X then went on to tell me where to go to have my voice heard.
My life kicks so much ass.
Now, you might be like "So what? Who cares." And I'm guessing you would be one of the millions who didn't hear from Ed Norton last night. Your jealousy is embarassing.
Ed "Fight Club" Norton was just calling to say hey, and let me know that I need to vote for Obama. He reminded me that I don't need to sit around and wait until Election Day to do it. I can vote early in the great state of Ohio. Mr. American History X then went on to tell me where to go to have my voice heard.
My life kicks so much ass.
Now, you might be like "So what? Who cares." And I'm guessing you would be one of the millions who didn't hear from Ed Norton last night. Your jealousy is embarassing.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Playing Hooky
So, Jen and I get up early on Thursday to go get a bit of her cancerous neck removed. We get to the office, and after some discussion, they let us know that they're not going to remove it that morning, rather schedule us out for another month. We were bummed...it was going to be nice to just have it all taken care of and be able to put it out of our thoughts for a bit. Jen apologized for having me take off work and waste our time, and I decided the day wouldn't be a waste at all.
We went and did some shopping. We picked up the new Ben Folds and a pair of running pants for her at Target, and then went in to the jewelry store where we bought our wedding rings to get mine re sized. I haven't worn my ring in the past couple of months because it was falling off my finger, and since I've kind of leveled out weight-wise I figured it would be good to appear married to the general public once again.
The salesman at the store was pretty funny. He had taken my plain gold wedding band into custody and was writing up the work order for me while joking about getting Jen a bigger diamond for her ring. He kept pulling out full carat loose diamonds and teasing me for not upgrading her ring. I told him that I had been thinking about becoming the kind of guy who wears pinkie rings, and he busted out a nice square ring with about a million little diamonds in it. For two grand, I could look fly.
"Well, if you're done messing around and are ready for some serious bling, let's go get you a watch." the salesguy said. He led me over to a watch case and pulled out a gold Rolex. When he strapped it to my wrist I swear I wouldn't be able to hold my hand up. That thing must have weighed eight pounds. Jen thought it was funny to see me wearing a Rolex since I don't wear anything but my wedding ring. Funny, that is, until she saw the $30,000 price tag on it. Once she saw that, she was ready to have me give it back.
Once we were done screwing around there we went over to the Japanese steakhouse that we go to every once in awhile for lunch. It was funny being there on a work day, getting drunk on over sized bottles of Sapporo and glasses of plum wine. Everyone else around us seemed to be on a schedule while we sat around and drank and ate spicy tuna roll.
From there we just bummed around. We made a stop at a tattoo shop where I went through their books of fonts, wanting to pick something out for my arms. Finding nothing, I settled on a stop at Best Buy (Iron Man and the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre hit Blu-ray this week) and went home to watch a comic book character blow shit up.
I really hope that the next time we go to have doctor hack into her face we have another day like that one. Beats working any day.
We went and did some shopping. We picked up the new Ben Folds and a pair of running pants for her at Target, and then went in to the jewelry store where we bought our wedding rings to get mine re sized. I haven't worn my ring in the past couple of months because it was falling off my finger, and since I've kind of leveled out weight-wise I figured it would be good to appear married to the general public once again.
The salesman at the store was pretty funny. He had taken my plain gold wedding band into custody and was writing up the work order for me while joking about getting Jen a bigger diamond for her ring. He kept pulling out full carat loose diamonds and teasing me for not upgrading her ring. I told him that I had been thinking about becoming the kind of guy who wears pinkie rings, and he busted out a nice square ring with about a million little diamonds in it. For two grand, I could look fly.
"Well, if you're done messing around and are ready for some serious bling, let's go get you a watch." the salesguy said. He led me over to a watch case and pulled out a gold Rolex. When he strapped it to my wrist I swear I wouldn't be able to hold my hand up. That thing must have weighed eight pounds. Jen thought it was funny to see me wearing a Rolex since I don't wear anything but my wedding ring. Funny, that is, until she saw the $30,000 price tag on it. Once she saw that, she was ready to have me give it back.
Once we were done screwing around there we went over to the Japanese steakhouse that we go to every once in awhile for lunch. It was funny being there on a work day, getting drunk on over sized bottles of Sapporo and glasses of plum wine. Everyone else around us seemed to be on a schedule while we sat around and drank and ate spicy tuna roll.
From there we just bummed around. We made a stop at a tattoo shop where I went through their books of fonts, wanting to pick something out for my arms. Finding nothing, I settled on a stop at Best Buy (Iron Man and the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre hit Blu-ray this week) and went home to watch a comic book character blow shit up.
I really hope that the next time we go to have doctor hack into her face we have another day like that one. Beats working any day.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Fear and Loathing on the Bike (Gang) Trail
So, Jen and I started out on a ride through the late morning. We had planned on getting an early start, but had a hard time getting out of bed, so we made it a lunch time ride. The day was perfect. Just perfect. The sun was bright and hot, and the breeze was cool, and we started out slowly talking and riding side by side.
We made it through the soccer fields and over the second of the handful of bridges that we cross, when we started to go under the overpass for Rt 161. Ahead there was a jogger, plodding along down the middle of the lane, struggling to hold his pace.
The man appeared to be marching into his mid forties, and possibly just realized it himself, prompting the early afternoon jog on a Sunday. His form was sloppy, with arms flopping at this sides and his feet just skimming the pavement. I was worried he would trip and fall. The distance between us and him was closing fast.
When people use the middle of the trail, it's hard to know which side you should try to pass on. What's worse was a situation like today where the incline leading out from the overpass curves hard to the left, making it impossible to see oncoming traffic. Maybe Jen was thinking this through, or maybe she was transfixed as I was at the man's impossibly gelatinous gate, but she didn't signal a warning that we were going to pass until we were about 15 feet behind him.
"Ding!"
Crisp and clean as a syringe out of it's sterilized packaging, the bell we picked her up a month or so ago rang out. A happy sound, the bell brought her joy when I mounted it to her bike, and brings here even more joy when she gets the chance to use it. It's the sound of money. It's the sound of an angel getting its wings. It's the sound that lets this rolling yay-hoo know that we're going to pass on the right since his stupid ass is occupying the middle of the trail on a blind curve.
Homeboy freaked. I don't know if it was because he had just made it to the other side of the overpass and had been uncomfortable in the dark. I don't know if it was because he had once been hospitalized and the cruel doctors had rung a bell prior to each session of electro-shock. Whatever the reason, he jumped a foot in the air and then bolted to the left side of the track where he yelled the words that would become the catch-phrase of the weekend.
"WAIT A MINUTE!"
Jen, completely bemused kept pedaling as she smiled and said, "Hi there."
I was grinning like a fool but was so taken aback by his reaction that I could find nothing to say. He was legitimately scared. His eyes tripled in size, and while he was already huffing and puffing from his jog, I thought it would be a very long time before his body ever caught up with the demands of his lungs. His chest heaved, and a white ball of spit flew my way as he exhaled. I watched it rise and fall landing on the pavement three feet from where I rode.
We tried to give the guy a break and not mock him openly in his presence, but it wasn't long before we were shouting "Wait a minute!" and laughing like the mindless sinners we are. Jen, who wasn't excited about the ride to begin with, declared that moment to be worth a whole afternoon of pedaling.
We made it through the soccer fields and over the second of the handful of bridges that we cross, when we started to go under the overpass for Rt 161. Ahead there was a jogger, plodding along down the middle of the lane, struggling to hold his pace.
The man appeared to be marching into his mid forties, and possibly just realized it himself, prompting the early afternoon jog on a Sunday. His form was sloppy, with arms flopping at this sides and his feet just skimming the pavement. I was worried he would trip and fall. The distance between us and him was closing fast.
When people use the middle of the trail, it's hard to know which side you should try to pass on. What's worse was a situation like today where the incline leading out from the overpass curves hard to the left, making it impossible to see oncoming traffic. Maybe Jen was thinking this through, or maybe she was transfixed as I was at the man's impossibly gelatinous gate, but she didn't signal a warning that we were going to pass until we were about 15 feet behind him.
"Ding!"
Crisp and clean as a syringe out of it's sterilized packaging, the bell we picked her up a month or so ago rang out. A happy sound, the bell brought her joy when I mounted it to her bike, and brings here even more joy when she gets the chance to use it. It's the sound of money. It's the sound of an angel getting its wings. It's the sound that lets this rolling yay-hoo know that we're going to pass on the right since his stupid ass is occupying the middle of the trail on a blind curve.
Homeboy freaked. I don't know if it was because he had just made it to the other side of the overpass and had been uncomfortable in the dark. I don't know if it was because he had once been hospitalized and the cruel doctors had rung a bell prior to each session of electro-shock. Whatever the reason, he jumped a foot in the air and then bolted to the left side of the track where he yelled the words that would become the catch-phrase of the weekend.
"WAIT A MINUTE!"
Jen, completely bemused kept pedaling as she smiled and said, "Hi there."
I was grinning like a fool but was so taken aback by his reaction that I could find nothing to say. He was legitimately scared. His eyes tripled in size, and while he was already huffing and puffing from his jog, I thought it would be a very long time before his body ever caught up with the demands of his lungs. His chest heaved, and a white ball of spit flew my way as he exhaled. I watched it rise and fall landing on the pavement three feet from where I rode.
We tried to give the guy a break and not mock him openly in his presence, but it wasn't long before we were shouting "Wait a minute!" and laughing like the mindless sinners we are. Jen, who wasn't excited about the ride to begin with, declared that moment to be worth a whole afternoon of pedaling.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Hi-5, More Dead Than Alive!
For many years my brother has asked me to go white water rafting with him. It's something that a handful of people in my family have done regularly, but for whatever reason I decided long ago it's just not my thing. So, every year my brother would go with a group of friends or family members and come home telling stories of how amazing it was.
"Seriously, bro. You should just come. You don't even have to raft if you don't want to. Just hang out around the camp with us, have some drinks and some laughs. It'd just be good to have you there."
I felt bad. I knew this was something that he loved doing and I hadn't at least given it a shot, so when he asked if I would be interested a few months ago I said "yes" almost immediately. I called The Rivermen and paid for my trip the day my brother called and told me the trip had been booked.
I knew I would have a good time. That wasn't really the question. I thought I would go hang out, have some laughs, and then survive the raft trip. I expected it to be something that I was glad I had done, but glad it was over. I thought the whole time I was out there I would be thinking about how I just wanted it done so I could say I did it. So, I was surprised when I really loved it.
Being a hermit, it's strange for me to find myself in a mix of people that I might not normally hang with. When I find myself in that situation, I always say that I'm going to keep my mouth shut and just have a good time, but that never lasts for long. Sooner or later, I'm making fun of pretty much everything, and it's usually funny to everyone except the person who's getting picked on. Not, that I don't take my beatings too, I just seem unable to shut up sometimes. Oh well, so be it. I went rafting with my brother and some other really good company, and it was all a good thing. It was important for me to be there.
"Seriously, bro. You should just come. You don't even have to raft if you don't want to. Just hang out around the camp with us, have some drinks and some laughs. It'd just be good to have you there."
I felt bad. I knew this was something that he loved doing and I hadn't at least given it a shot, so when he asked if I would be interested a few months ago I said "yes" almost immediately. I called The Rivermen and paid for my trip the day my brother called and told me the trip had been booked.
I knew I would have a good time. That wasn't really the question. I thought I would go hang out, have some laughs, and then survive the raft trip. I expected it to be something that I was glad I had done, but glad it was over. I thought the whole time I was out there I would be thinking about how I just wanted it done so I could say I did it. So, I was surprised when I really loved it.
This is us, skimming past Pillow Rock. I'm the guy in the blue helmet. Clicky-clicky makes biggy-biggy.
Being a hermit, it's strange for me to find myself in a mix of people that I might not normally hang with. When I find myself in that situation, I always say that I'm going to keep my mouth shut and just have a good time, but that never lasts for long. Sooner or later, I'm making fun of pretty much everything, and it's usually funny to everyone except the person who's getting picked on. Not, that I don't take my beatings too, I just seem unable to shut up sometimes. Oh well, so be it. I went rafting with my brother and some other really good company, and it was all a good thing. It was important for me to be there.
You know, for years I have drug my poor Van Halen loving brother to concerts that he had no interest in seeing, simply because I am a hermit and don't know anyone else to go with. Over the years he has been forced to see The Afghan Whigs, Radiohead, Silversun Pickups, Wolfmother, and Ben Folds. While he's usually a good sport, these are all bands that he couldn't care less about. There was one exception though.
I had tickets to see Ben Folds at The Newport Music Hall. I was excited, Paul was tolerant. We showed up early and the opening band hit the stage. It was a group I hadn't heard of at the time named Train. They were really good. I hadn't heard any of their stuff before, though some people in the audience were singing along. They were all jangly guitar pop, and sounded clean, so Paul was instantly hooked. We kept looking at each other saying "These guys are great" with smiles and appreciative nods in the loud club.
We were packed in on the floor with hundreds of geeky young men and sensitive looking art students, standing out like a sore thumb. The whole night I had been noticing that I no longer fit in with the usual concert goers and was slowly becoming the older guy that happened to like some cool music. Not exactly what I was aspiring to be.
Train ended their set, and my brother turned to me with his hand in the air and said "Those guys were awesome!"
Normally, I'm not a high-five kind of guy. It's never been my thing. Standing in that club, feeling like a geeky old guy, high-fiving was even less an option for me. I left my brother hanging.
As his hand came down, I grabbed it awkwardly and have him the man-hug mix of clenched hands and a pat on the back, but the damage had already been done. He had been left standing in the middle of a floor full of kids with dyed red hair with his lonely hand in the air.
I try not to lie to my brother ever. I've never done anything bad to him intentionally, though my own selfishness has hurt him over the years. So while it's a little thing, it's still something I think about from time to time, and I thought about it this weekend while we were out.
After the raft trip, we load back onto a bus with our gear and a can of beer and start riding back to camp. The bus was loud with mostly young men recounting their trips down the river as they downed cans of cheap lite beer. It would have been the perfect opportunity for a high-five, but there were none. Maybe this is because they have really lost their place in society outside of sports. Maybe because it's just fucking difficult to look cool when in the act of a high-five. But I wondered if my brother was holding back because of that night at the Ben Folds show.
Maybe he was sitting there in his bus seat, forcing himself not to stand up and start high-fiving everyone within arms reach. Maybe he actually stood, and then looked over to where I sat and then remembered I was there before retaking his seat. OK, probably not. He probably doesn't remember a thing about that. He probably doesn't know that I killed the high-five that once dwelt within his heart.
So, after arriving back in his house I gave him a hug and thanked him for everything. If it hadn't been for him, I never would have been in that beautiful place doing such an amazing thing. I wouldn't have had the chance to get to know some of his friends better. I made a point of making sure he knew how amazing it all was for me, and I'm going to make sure I remind him of it all again soon. And if we're sitting around the fire pit at his house or out somewhere at a restaurant or bar recounting the weekend, and he wants to high-five, I'll be right there with him, the sound of our slapping hands cracking through the night.
You're goddamn right I will.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Fall
The leaves are noisier now than they were a week ago. Their dry edges and they scrape against each other in the wind. When you're quiet, it's so loud. Last night, Jen and I stood still on a bridge that crosses a small creek not too far from our home and listened. It was a good night.
Some of the leaves are even starting to fall already. We rode our bikes the other day and leaves drifted with cinematic grace around us and on us as we pedaled along slowly, talking. Enough had fallen on the trail that they were being ground into smaller pieces and the air was full of the good sweet smell of them. Even though it was almost 90 degrees that day, it was the first hint of fall and it made me want more.
I've been stuck working a lot of overtime at work lately, and it's kept me from riding to work. The weather the last two days has been so amazing that I couldn't keep myself from taking my bike in, so I woke up at 4:00 this morning to I could get ready and get to work by 6:00. On the trail by 5:00, there was one thing that I hadn't considered before getting out there. It's creepy out there in the dark alone. Just plain creepy.
There was a bit of fog collected along the stream banks, and it swallowed the small straining headlight I had mounted to my bike, reducing my visibility to about 6 feet. Small animals moved in my periphery making me hope I wouldn't scare a skunk in the dark. The things that I don't like about the trail during the day (neighborhoods, apartment complexes, open fields) became the places I loved in the dark (street lights, security lights, the half moon above me). The whole time I was riding though, the smell of the leaves filled the air, and in the darkness seemed even stronger.
Some of the leaves are even starting to fall already. We rode our bikes the other day and leaves drifted with cinematic grace around us and on us as we pedaled along slowly, talking. Enough had fallen on the trail that they were being ground into smaller pieces and the air was full of the good sweet smell of them. Even though it was almost 90 degrees that day, it was the first hint of fall and it made me want more.
I've been stuck working a lot of overtime at work lately, and it's kept me from riding to work. The weather the last two days has been so amazing that I couldn't keep myself from taking my bike in, so I woke up at 4:00 this morning to I could get ready and get to work by 6:00. On the trail by 5:00, there was one thing that I hadn't considered before getting out there. It's creepy out there in the dark alone. Just plain creepy.
There was a bit of fog collected along the stream banks, and it swallowed the small straining headlight I had mounted to my bike, reducing my visibility to about 6 feet. Small animals moved in my periphery making me hope I wouldn't scare a skunk in the dark. The things that I don't like about the trail during the day (neighborhoods, apartment complexes, open fields) became the places I loved in the dark (street lights, security lights, the half moon above me). The whole time I was riding though, the smell of the leaves filled the air, and in the darkness seemed even stronger.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Our State Fair is a Grand State Fair
I want to tell you about a magical place. It's a place of many many wonders and while most of the sights were familiar, they were still entertaining.
Some friends were in from out of town and wanted to go to the Ohio State Fair. Jen and I generally skip the fair for all the usual reasons, but our friends were genuinely excited to go, and it kind of rubbed off on us. I ran home from work, threw on some shorts and headed out the door to take in the big show. Below is a brief sketch of the sights I saw.
1 - Bellies. Lots of bellies. Some of the "Rah-rah Cheerleader" variety, and some were in the "Hope I can pick up a man and take him back to my trailer" vein. Most however were "I'm a man who has a t-shirt three sizes too small for my stomach" variety. As a large mammal myself, I'm especially sensitive to these men and women who dangle a good three inches below the hem of their Harley Davidson shirts and I want to pull them aside and let them know the garment industry is adapting to accommodate their ever expanding needs.
2 - Blatant abuse of the English Language. We shuddered collectively when we heard the mother tell her toddler "You bout got runned over!" I will never profess to have good grammar, but still....damn. On the plus side, we spent the rest of the night telling each other that we're lucky we didn't get runned over.
3 - Food on a Stick. I realize this is old hat for a State Fair and it's a running joke that's become a cliche. Seriously though...Egg on a Stick?
4 - Arts and crafts. This is a broad category that runs from the intricate and beautiful to the...Well, to this:
I know what you're wondering, and the answer is yes. All Ohio counties were represented by a decorative hat.
5 - Corndogs. Mmmmmmm...corndogs.
6 - A giant scruffy fellow in a "Boobies Make Me Smile" T-shirt. Yes they do, my friend. Yes they do.
7 - Foot Massage Stools. These contraptions look like half a barrel with a metal platform to put your feet up on. For a mere 25 cents you too can enjoy jarring vibrations for 45 seconds accompanied with a rumbling sound not unlike a passing New York City Subway Train. Relaxation, State Fair style.
8 - Vendors. In what I believe is the Exposition Hall, all of the Vendors come out to sell their wares. The amount of things you can get (and the variety) is staggering. All under one roof you could accomplish the following:
Buy one of half a dozen magic cloths that hold 16 times their own weight in spilled Kool Aid.
Order a new Social Security card.
Buy pots and pans (the last set you'll ever need).
Bulk candy, ya'll. Bulk candy.
Get saved and sanctified with one of the local churches.
Buy a hot tub.
Sober up with the county Drug and Alcohol Awareness office.
Get tattooed.
Learn more about Scientology at the L Ron Hubbard booth.
Buy "designer" fragrances for half the cost of the real thing.
Have your ring cleaned.
Request a free mobility chair. ("Screw you, I'd look good on a Jazzy!")
The bottom line is, the fair aint all bad. I guess it's all in what you're looking for. And as long as there's preacher asking "Did you know there are two things that God can't do?" as I walk by his booth, I'll be coming back. (For the record, possible answers included "Make me come back to your booth?" and "Find a rock so big he can't pick it up?")
Good times.
Some friends were in from out of town and wanted to go to the Ohio State Fair. Jen and I generally skip the fair for all the usual reasons, but our friends were genuinely excited to go, and it kind of rubbed off on us. I ran home from work, threw on some shorts and headed out the door to take in the big show. Below is a brief sketch of the sights I saw.
1 - Bellies. Lots of bellies. Some of the "Rah-rah Cheerleader" variety, and some were in the "Hope I can pick up a man and take him back to my trailer" vein. Most however were "I'm a man who has a t-shirt three sizes too small for my stomach" variety. As a large mammal myself, I'm especially sensitive to these men and women who dangle a good three inches below the hem of their Harley Davidson shirts and I want to pull them aside and let them know the garment industry is adapting to accommodate their ever expanding needs.
2 - Blatant abuse of the English Language. We shuddered collectively when we heard the mother tell her toddler "You bout got runned over!" I will never profess to have good grammar, but still....damn. On the plus side, we spent the rest of the night telling each other that we're lucky we didn't get runned over.
3 - Food on a Stick. I realize this is old hat for a State Fair and it's a running joke that's become a cliche. Seriously though...Egg on a Stick?
4 - Arts and crafts. This is a broad category that runs from the intricate and beautiful to the...Well, to this:
I know what you're wondering, and the answer is yes. All Ohio counties were represented by a decorative hat.
5 - Corndogs. Mmmmmmm...corndogs.
6 - A giant scruffy fellow in a "Boobies Make Me Smile" T-shirt. Yes they do, my friend. Yes they do.
7 - Foot Massage Stools. These contraptions look like half a barrel with a metal platform to put your feet up on. For a mere 25 cents you too can enjoy jarring vibrations for 45 seconds accompanied with a rumbling sound not unlike a passing New York City Subway Train. Relaxation, State Fair style.
8 - Vendors. In what I believe is the Exposition Hall, all of the Vendors come out to sell their wares. The amount of things you can get (and the variety) is staggering. All under one roof you could accomplish the following:
Buy one of half a dozen magic cloths that hold 16 times their own weight in spilled Kool Aid.
Order a new Social Security card.
Buy pots and pans (the last set you'll ever need).
Bulk candy, ya'll. Bulk candy.
Get saved and sanctified with one of the local churches.
Buy a hot tub.
Sober up with the county Drug and Alcohol Awareness office.
Get tattooed.
Learn more about Scientology at the L Ron Hubbard booth.
Buy "designer" fragrances for half the cost of the real thing.
Have your ring cleaned.
Request a free mobility chair. ("Screw you, I'd look good on a Jazzy!")
The bottom line is, the fair aint all bad. I guess it's all in what you're looking for. And as long as there's preacher asking "Did you know there are two things that God can't do?" as I walk by his booth, I'll be coming back. (For the record, possible answers included "Make me come back to your booth?" and "Find a rock so big he can't pick it up?")
Good times.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Dance, You Fucker, Dance
Last night I picked up a friend from the Cleveland airport and we headed straight over to Blossom Music Center for last night's Radiohead show. Several months ago we bought Pit tickets which is a small standing room only section up against the stage. Without question it was the best money I've spent in ages.
Most shows that I go to have their moments where genius seems to peek through the clouds and you find yourself blown away but what you're seeing. Last night's show did that with nearly every song. I know I'm such a fanboy, but still...last night couldn't have been more perfect. Good people, good whiskey, good fun.
SET LIST:
15 Step, There There, Morning Bell, All I Need, Pyramid Song, Nude, Weird Fishes/Arpeggi, The Gloaming, The National Anthem, A Wolf at the Door, Faust Arp, Exit Music (For a Film), Jigsaw Falling into Place, Idioteque, Climbing Up the Walls, Bodysnatchers, How to Disappear Completely.
ENCORE: Videotape, Paranoid Android, Dollars & Cents, Reckoner, Street Spirit (Fade Out).
SECOND ENCORE: House Of Cards, Lucky, Everything in Its Right Place.
What's this? You'd like to see more grainy cell phone pictures? All you had to do was ask, my friend.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
BIKE GANG, American Style
How do you show your patriotism? By hanging one million flags on a highway overpass, that's how. This is the bridge over 71 on West Main Street. Show some respect, you!
It's a really cool ride, but I'd like it even more if there were someone to do it with me. There's a girl at work here who is considering it, and I think she's going to do a practice run at it this weekend, so that would be cool. I'm also thinking about posting some fliers around the offices here (got BIKE GANG?) to let people know there's a good way to get some exercise, stick it to the gas man, and offer anyone who wants to come along. It would be cool if there was a little group of people that would ride to work a few times a week.
First things first though, I've got to get my bike a bit more commuter friendly. If I'm going to keep at this, I'm going to need a headlight before long and maybe something to make me more visible from behind. Also, I've been kickin' it old school sans helmet, and with me being on the streets some I'm going to have to rectify that. I've avoided it because I have a fat head and I don't want to look like I've got half a ping pong ball stuffed down on it, but whatever. It's the law of averages...sooner or later some chucklehead is going to swipe too close to me and I'll have to bail. Might as well be wearing a brain bucket when it happens.
After two practice runs over the weekend, I finally got my crap all together and rode my bike to work. All in all, it's a pretty easy route, but I still managed to show up to work a dishevelled overheated mess. I don't care. It was awesome.
I have to drive about six minutes from my house to the Alum Creek trail-head because the road I live off of would be suicide on a bicycle (for me at least). So, I park beside a craft store in Easton, and then get on the trail. Of the twelve miles I ride to work , the first three quarters of it is all along dedicated bike trails. They follow the creek, connect city parks, and border small residential neighborhoods finally taking me to Cleveland Avenue where I have to get on the streets and deal with humanity. The ride is a little over twelve miles long, but the first three quarters is along the Alum Creek bike trail. (For those playing along at home: Westerville Bike Trails.)
It's a really cool ride, but I'd like it even more if there were someone to do it with me. There's a girl at work here who is considering it, and I think she's going to do a practice run at it this weekend, so that would be cool. I'm also thinking about posting some fliers around the offices here (got BIKE GANG?) to let people know there's a good way to get some exercise, stick it to the gas man, and offer anyone who wants to come along. It would be cool if there was a little group of people that would ride to work a few times a week.
First things first though, I've got to get my bike a bit more commuter friendly. If I'm going to keep at this, I'm going to need a headlight before long and maybe something to make me more visible from behind. Also, I've been kickin' it old school sans helmet, and with me being on the streets some I'm going to have to rectify that. I've avoided it because I have a fat head and I don't want to look like I've got half a ping pong ball stuffed down on it, but whatever. It's the law of averages...sooner or later some chucklehead is going to swipe too close to me and I'll have to bail. Might as well be wearing a brain bucket when it happens.
So, tonight I ride home. Along the way I have to stop by and see the good folks at CHA and help walk some doggies for an hour and a half (the shelter's back yard actually meets the bike trail) and then onward home. I'll probably be asleep by nine.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Walkin' The Dogs
It's a beautiful night tonight. Hot out, but not thick and muggy like it has been and there was a bit of a breeze. Not a bad night to hit up our local shelter CHA and walk some puppies. It was just good to get out and clear my head for a bit.
There's a trail that leads around the outside edge of the shelter's property and you can take it through a stand of trees and out onto a nice paved bike trail (the trail that will someday take me to work). It was toward the end of my shift, and I was just letting Giselle, the lab mix I was walking roll around in the grass, when I felt my phone vibrate, letting me know I missed a call.
It was a friend of mine who had read my blog a bit earlier and was calling to check on me to see if I was OK. Awwww. I tend to be a bit morose when I write sometimes, and I know at the time of the posting I was just sick of my cubicle mates and wanting to be outside, but I definitely wasn't in bad shape with my day. I just liked the melodrama of wrapping myself up in that crappy carpet. I'm a dork like that.
She was fully prepared to talk me off the ledge she imagined me to be standing on, and sounded surprised when I sounded so chipper on the phone. Phone calls are always awkward with me, because I'm an awkward man, so we wrapped up quickly. I was totally laughing though. I had no idea I came across that bad.
So, for the record, I'd like to point out that I'm a pretty happy fellow most of the time even if my blog comes across as a downer occasionally. No, I'm not the jumping up and down with joy because I get to go play with mortgages every day kind of happy, but I'm doing OK.
So, to my friend that called tonight, I say thank you. If there's ever a time when I feel like I'm just going to steer my car off the cliff, I now know who to call. Fortunately for both of us, I'm awkward on the phone, so I'll probably just drive home instead so we don't have to have a weird conversation. I couldn't bear having someone in my life that I could be out drinking with and hear her say "Hey, you remember that one time I kept you from driving off a cliff?"
To everyone else, I'll work on being cheerier. I promise. Tomorrow, I'm totally starting on that .
In other completely unrelated news, my good pal Felix posted this mix his brother put together. Andor 2000 - Breakbeats. I've had a bit of a taste for electronica/trance lately, and while I haven't heard the whole thing yet (it's one track that runs an hour long) I'm really digging it so far. Plus, it don't cost nuthin'. Cheap as hell...you won't even know. If you snag it, stop by and let him know. He loves love.
There's a trail that leads around the outside edge of the shelter's property and you can take it through a stand of trees and out onto a nice paved bike trail (the trail that will someday take me to work). It was toward the end of my shift, and I was just letting Giselle, the lab mix I was walking roll around in the grass, when I felt my phone vibrate, letting me know I missed a call.
It was a friend of mine who had read my blog a bit earlier and was calling to check on me to see if I was OK. Awwww. I tend to be a bit morose when I write sometimes, and I know at the time of the posting I was just sick of my cubicle mates and wanting to be outside, but I definitely wasn't in bad shape with my day. I just liked the melodrama of wrapping myself up in that crappy carpet. I'm a dork like that.
She was fully prepared to talk me off the ledge she imagined me to be standing on, and sounded surprised when I sounded so chipper on the phone. Phone calls are always awkward with me, because I'm an awkward man, so we wrapped up quickly. I was totally laughing though. I had no idea I came across that bad.
So, for the record, I'd like to point out that I'm a pretty happy fellow most of the time even if my blog comes across as a downer occasionally. No, I'm not the jumping up and down with joy because I get to go play with mortgages every day kind of happy, but I'm doing OK.
So, to my friend that called tonight, I say thank you. If there's ever a time when I feel like I'm just going to steer my car off the cliff, I now know who to call. Fortunately for both of us, I'm awkward on the phone, so I'll probably just drive home instead so we don't have to have a weird conversation. I couldn't bear having someone in my life that I could be out drinking with and hear her say "Hey, you remember that one time I kept you from driving off a cliff?"
To everyone else, I'll work on being cheerier. I promise. Tomorrow, I'm totally starting on that .
In other completely unrelated news, my good pal Felix posted this mix his brother put together. Andor 2000 - Breakbeats. I've had a bit of a taste for electronica/trance lately, and while I haven't heard the whole thing yet (it's one track that runs an hour long) I'm really digging it so far. Plus, it don't cost nuthin'. Cheap as hell...you won't even know. If you snag it, stop by and let him know. He loves love.
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