Another Pleasant Valley Sunday

Sundays have a specific feel about them. Especially around 6pm. There is a quietness in our neighborhood unlike week nights.

Week nights on our street are similar to race day in that our street runs parallel to one of the main roads into Mechanicsburg. When the main street gets congested, folks jump over to our street to get around traffic. And speed through the neighborhood as people who want to get home tend to do.

But on Sunday, there isn't that much traffic to be seen. Or heard. And now with the sun going down earlier, and the leaves falling off of the trees, standing out in front of the house is really peaceful. Pleasant even.

This was an extremely busy weekend for our clan. The Princess had a friend sleep over Friday night, so she had to be carted home Saturday afternoon. Then The Princess and I ate lunch at The Spot in downtown Harrisburg. This restaurant had been in business for 70 years, and was shutting down on Sunday. So we had to go for our first and last time ever. Then the Princess was scheduled to help out at a church for a spaghetti dinner. So, of course, the rest of us had to eat there because it met the perfect dinner criterea:

None of us had to cook it.
Someone was going to bring it to us.
Someone was going to make sure we had all we wanted. And bring us more if we han't.
Someone was going to take the dirty dishes away. And we didn't have to wash them.
Ice cream for dessert.
Brought by someone who wasn't us.

That is the perfect dinner.

But what the Princess had neglected to discuss with us is that this dinner was the prelude to the Saturday night service.

Cancel the perfect dinner.

Then came Sunday.

The Princess was scheduled to do a fun run at 11am. Which turned out to be the fun run scheduled at 1pm. After the run, the Princess and I decided that next year both her and I will do not the fun run which was only 1 mile. We are going to do the 5k run. This is going to be interesting in that I can't run a 1/4 mile right now, much less 3+miles. Sounds like the loss of a lot of weight, and a lot of training is going to be going on this winter.

And after that she had a football game that she was cheering at. So we had to go watch that happen. And then it was home.

Every time I have a weekend off I have visions of lying about on the couch, watching football, eating chips. It never works out that way. Usually those weekends are spent traipsing the Princess all around, and attending her functions.

The life of a parent.

I love my kids.

Namaste.

Tell your friends I'm crazy, it'll save your pride

I have been getting my road music in order this week. I have found myself listening to a lot of bands from the 70's. Firefall being one of them.

I have found Firefall to be an interesting band in that the lead guitar work is so reminescent of that era. The sound of it brings to mind bands like early "Eagles", and "The Byrds", "The Little River Band", and there in another one that I can't remember the name of. I am pretty sure that the title has "Champange" in it. Something like "Champagne Jam" or such.

Whatever.

Of course now that I have been listening to Firefall I am going to have to find all of the old Poco, Flying Burritos Brothers, Loggins and Messina, and Richie Furay cds and listen to them. It is interesting that the members of Firefall all came from what was called Country Rock in the late 60's and early 70's but the bands music was pushed into soft rock status for the radio.

I don't like most of their radio hits. I have never been a top 40 kind of guy, other than when I was cutting my musical teeth lo all of those years ago. So I look for the b-sides of everything.

So my weekend will be spent searching for music. That and going to The Spot before it closes for good.

Namaste.

Like running on ice, I only get a little distance when I fall

You ever get that feeling that you are stuck in one spot. Running in place.

I was transferred to another store. I start next week. In Hanover. My drive will consist of route 15 south, and then route 94 to Hanover. Just past the Utz factory. Hope that it will smell as good as the Stroehmann Bread factory.

Lots of woods and farm fields. Don't know where my mind will take me on these rides to and from work.

I can never tell.

Stay tuned.

Namaste.

She ran out of things to say, so she said she loved me.

Do you remember the first time you said those words, and actually meant it? Do you remember the person, place, and whatever else was going on?

The tightness in your throat, and the fear jabbering in the background. Waiting for the response from the other person.

Would they accept it and reciprocate?

Would there be an awkward silence and then an explaination of why they don't feel the same way.

Do you remember?

Namaste.

I am thinking about camping. Camping on the beach. In Michigan.

And that can only mean one thing.

Grand Haven State Park.

Pitch the tent on the beach, and spend your days hanging out in Lake Michigan. Spend your evenings eating burgers and ice cream.

Tell that that doesn't sound like a dream come true.

I think that that is what my 3 eldest kids and I will be doing some time next summer. I, in my usual fashion, will start the process of getting everyone on board just so that once I finalize the reservation, one or more of the kids will toss a monkey wrench into the whole deal. Thereby causing the rest of us to proceed into a full blown tizzy which will include gnashing of teeth, beating our breasts, calling one another rude names just to end in the kid who started it all will fall in line with the rest and look at us as if we have lost our collective minds.

Passive aggressiveness is a pain in the heinie.

Now I just have to start thinking of the best time. Because the rest of the family and I will be doing North Carolina next summer also. 2 beaches in one summer. Life is good.

Namaste.

In my mind, I'm gone to Carolina

Out walking Cerebus this evening with the moon so freaking bright, and the sky so clear took me back to Octobers from my past.

Fall is always a season of memories for me. Walks through the leaves, kicking them around. Apples.

When I was in college, in the fall I always had a box of apples in my room. Smelled wonderful. Until they were all gone. And then my room just smelled.

Late September, early October. Before the frost hits and heralds winter.

Of course that means that the zombies go to sleep for the winter. No more worries about that moaning as I walk Cerebus. It is so disturbing.

But before the sky turns grey there is time for cider, warm donuts, carving pumpkins with the Princess, and making some very lucious beer.

I am a Brewmaster.

Namaste

Well, hello there.

Been a long time.

Been working my ass off for the past bunch of days. Getting ready for a new competitor in town. Cleaning, polishing, yelling, pleading, cajoling, threatening. All of the good things that you do when we want people to do something out of the ordinary.

Today was a my first day off for awhile. And I did a bunch of catch-up things. Installed a new radio in my truck. Finally got my tunes into the 20th century. Did the grocery shopping thing. Made vegetable soup, and put together a piece of furniture that had been delivered last week, that was waiting patiently for me to put it together.

And now I am catching up with you.

Some of you have been incredibly patient with me. Checking back every day. I am honored by your diligence. Namaste. Some of you are looking for certain phrases that I have used in my titles. Hope you found something interesting. And please come back.

So, I am back. So give me a day or two to get my head back on straight and then I will start waxing poetic once again.

Namaste.

I drift back in time and I find my feet down on Main Street

The Borough of Mechanicsburg has contracted with a paving company to re-pave the steet that I live on. This sounds like a straight forward proposition. But then there was the rain on Tuesday. And all of the other delays that have happened over the past 2 weeks.

I just am hoping that the suspension on my truck holds out until this infrastructure improvement is completed.

I am tired of driving the Ho Chi Minh Trail getting to and from home.

September is not being a fun month.

I am glad that it is almost over, because we can then get to October. And then the real fun starts. Halloween, Ren Faire, carving pumpkins. The real fun.

Namaste.

Dream quest.

So I have been on this quest for a couple of weeks now. A Michigan blog. A blog written by a Michigander.

Not just any Michigander. You can find any number of blogs written by people in the Ann Arbor, Detroit area. And that would make you stupid, because those blogs are about The Lions, or the Tigers, or the Red Wings, or any number of liberal thoughts that come out of college students/professors/graduatehangersonwhodon'tknowwhentotakethedegreeandjointhehumanrace.

I am looking for someone who blogs from the Southwest side of Michigan. The Hartford/Watervliet/Coloma/Dowagiac area. Yes, I know that that limits things a tad. But tough.

I am interested in that area of Michigan because of a few things. First, it is a major agriculture area. What is all of the immigration publicity doing to the farmers who have apples that need to be picked? What is going on with the move that had been happening in the 80's where corporate farmers were swallowing small, family owned farms like so many m&m's?

Then let's talk about the small manufacturing companys who have had to shut down. My middle brother was handed his pink slip in August. He doesn't look that good in pink, but I am never one to judge. He had worked for this company for 29+ years. And now he is looking for a job in the employment situation in a state that has been so in love with the auto that they were, and still are in total denial that the relationship has moved on. Sort of like most of my relationships with women.

But I have found no one. NO ONE who blogs from that area of the state. What a disappointment.

So if anyone can help me, please let me know. I will be greatly thankful.

Namaste

Season of the witch

This time of year always make me remember things. Watching the leaves fall, takes me back to walking through the small group of trees behind my parents house as the leaves were falling. Raking them up and then burning the leaves in the drive way. The way the smoke looked as it traveled through the rays of the sun as it was setting. That distinct smell of burning leaves.

Of The Haunted Woods.

Back a few years ago I was living just outside of Columbus, Ohio. Close enough to the country that I only had to travel a few minutes to be in either corn fields, or apple orchards.

I love the Fall.

I was dating a woman who had a son who is Pierce's age. When the two of them got together, you never knew what they would be coming up with. In the Fall of that year, I believe it was '95, Pierce and his little buddy decided that they wanted to go to a Haunted Forest. That it sounded really fun. And exciting. And cool. Way Coooooollllllll, Dad!!!

They begged, and cajoled, and pleaded. They made deals that the Devil couldn't refuse. We said no.

No, because it would be too scary. No because it would give them nightmares. No because they were pissing us off, asking all of the time.

But as parents do, in the end, we caved.

We sucked at being parents.

So, one evening we loaded the kids up in my girlfriends truck. Mullet-head, who got a haircut and doesn't have a mullet anylonger, Pierce, and Beelzebub. Not the Devil himself, but my girlfriends son. He was a little hyper. Sort of like a water rat on speed.

We drove to the Haunted Forest. We got out and trooped to the entrance. We paid our money and went in. The Forest was laid out with a walking path that took you to several areas where you would stop and a little story would be enacted.

We got through the first one without incident. The boys were all so proud and happy with themselves. They were talking, and teasing with one another as boys will do. Pushing, and shoving each other as they teased back and forth about who jumped, and how screamed.

And then we got to the haunted tavern. Actually, it should be written "THE HAUNTED TAVERN"!! It was small building that was made to look like a small tavern. A bar ran along one side of the building, and a person stood there spinning their tale. As the small group who were in the building were listening to the story, out of a closet to the right of them jumped a man, in a mask, holding a chainsaw. Without the chain, of course, but running still. And he was moaning as he revved up the saw.

That was about all our brave boys could handle. Mullet took off running without looking back. Beelzebub did the same. Pierce stood there, running in place. Like he was in a cartoon, and only after he had jogged in place for about 100 yards, screaming at the time of his lungs by the way, he took off at full speed. I was practically on the ground laughing. My sides hurt so bad, it wasn't even funny. Then I took off running to get the boys.

I found beelzebub just up the path, and then Mullet. We finally caught up with Piece at the exit. He was trying to convince the men at the gate that someone was after him and he HAD TO GET OUT NOW!!!!!

It was hilarious.

And now he will be mad because I wrote this little memory that I have of him for all to see.

But it had to be told.

Namaste.

The talk on the street says you might go solo

There are times in all of our lives where having just a smidgen of plausible deniabilty is a gift from Heaven.

You know what I am talking about, just a sliver of truth that you can build an ark out of.

I got to thinking about this tonight as I watched the local police pull a guy out his car in the parking lot of the business where I work. Looks like another low level drug dealer is going to be paying some fines. The local PD have been doing a number of busts lately. Don't know if they got some money from the Feds, or if they are just out having some fun. Either way, it is going to make the customer mix in my store a lot cleaner.

Takes me back to my youth. I went, one fine summer, to a band camp. Don't really know why I was sent, other than I was told that I had talent, albeit a little rough. I played trombone. A lot of trombone. I could make that horn sound like the wings of an angel, and I could make it sound like an attack of valkyries. I loved playing the trombone.

Anyway, so I went to this band camp. Had no idea what the heck was going on. Had never been away from home other than with family. I was 15, I think. Don't make fun. The first day, after you check in and your parents go away all the campers went through an evaluation process. You sight read music for a group of folks. And then they put you into different groups. Either the orchestra, the regular band, or the jazz band.

I sight read horribly, and got put in the regular band. That was cool. I wasn't there to build a resume, I was there to learn about the world outside of Bohunk Michigan. And learn I did.

I bunked with about 7 other guys from all around Michigan. And some of them like to smoke the demon weed. Not me. Not to say that I hadn't before, or didn't want to. I just didn't know these guys, and I didn't like the odds of not having some plausible deniability in the chance of something not so good happening. Which it did.

The night before camp was over there was a dance. I wasn't much into dancing, I liked playing music. I didn't go to the dance. I stayed in my cabin. The other guys were going to the dance, and decided to burn one before going. No biggie. Other than I happened to be alone in the cabin when the counselors came after smelling ganja.

I got questioned, and accused, and all of the other things that go on when people who don't have all of the facts try to make you either admit or pull out you plausible deniability. I just kept saying it wasn't me. I didn't know who it was.

Sometimes the truth is a hard story to sell.

Anyway, it was just something that came to my mind as I watched someone get read his rights tonight.

Namaste.

A journey through the past

After I had ordered my Labor Day meal. You know, a burger and soda with some doritos on the side from Sheetz. They do make some damned fine burgers. Really.

Anyway, I was walking out with my purchase I saw a display of soda sitting in front of the building. And it took me back a few years, to one of those times in my life where I thought that my reaction could have been thought out just a little bit more.

I used to work for a retail chain in Michigan. I had just taken a position of "lesser responsibility" due to an unfortunate decision I had made. You know, one where you walk away and say to your self, "What the hell was I thinking?" I had asked the Manager of the store where I was working to go out back with me so that I could kick his butt. That was not a good decision on my part. Anyway, I got demoted and transferred to another store where there was an Assistant who thought he was all that.

And a bag of chips.

He wasn't. He was an ass.

Regardless, he decided that he was going to have the local Coke vendor build a large display of 12 pak soda in front of the building. This could work if you didn't put the 12 paks on their side, if you stacked them flat. They didn't do it that way. They stacked the 12 paks on their sides. And it rained.

Lots of moisture especially when the soda was stacked on the concrete, not on pallets. Concrete wicks moisture.

When cardboard gets wet it softens. We all know this. And it pulls away from the glue on the flaps.

I was coming in to work that the over night and saw the mess. A couple hundred broken open 12 paks of soda all over the concrete. The ass had to clean it up. He was not happy.

That made me happy.

It is funny how seeing something jogs your memory. Happens to me all of the time. Maybe it is because I am almost at the half century mark in age.

Namaste.

A child arrived just the other day.

My eldest turned 24 yesterday.

She was born in West Branch, Michigan. West Branch is a nice little touristy town just off of I-75 in Northern Michigan. There is, or was, a really nice family owned restaurant there called "Charbenoes". The spelling could be off. This restaurant had a really nice buffet every weekend. I loved going there with my wife, and with family whenever they came to visit.

Anyway, Raven-Sparkle, came at the end of a really hot summer. Her Mother spent the majority of the summer sitting in front of 2 fans. We didn't have air conditioning. We lived in a converted A-frame house. It was a really nice place to live and work. Other than the job was retail.

Raven lives out in Arizona now. She moved there with her Mom back in the 80's after we were divorced. She has gone through her struggles better than most. She has had struggles that I wish I could have helped her through. But she still talks to me. She loves me, and I love her.

Kids. I can't figure them out. My kids have had to put up with a lot of crap from me. Missed birthdays, and christmas'. Late birthday cards and gifts, christmas gifts coming late, or some times going to the wrong address. And to make matters even worse, some times not being able to afford gifts. Single Mom's endure this all of the time, but they are with their kids. Dad's who can't make ends meet while paying the child support, just feel like shit when they can't afford to send their kids something.

And my kids have been wonderful through it all. I have never hid my problems from them. Have probably told them too much of my problems. But they have been there for me. Love those kids.

Namaste.

Everybody is a star

Lots of nice, well wishes going around in cyberspace for this Labor Day Weekend in America.

Have a nice holiday.

Happy Labor Day.

Enjoy your 3-day holiday.

Bite me.

I am working this weekend. Every single, stinking day. There is no happy labor day in retail. You people want to buy, I want to sell you crap. And you had better come in in droves, if I have to slave my ass off just so that you can drink crappy beer and eat red meat making yourself fatter and screwing up your complexion even more, you had better be spending some big bucks.

Namaste.