For Those About to (Sheet)Rock

On any given day, in any given place, there is a guy with rusty tanned, dusty arms putting up sheet rock. And amongst all of the other standard equipment, there is a radio. It is a dual cassette tape stereo, splattered with paint.

And as long as there is even one guy like this, working in one room of one house - AC/DC will live.




Camaros are probably safe too.

In a city that knows how to keep it's secrets....

I'm trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions. Normal things, you know, the usual ruminations on the bermuda triangle.... how to live a purpose-filled life.... how many other dimensions are there really...... and ultimately the one I keep going back to....

Why does Phil Collins keep popping up on my internet radio station devoted to rap?!

I mean, c'mon Phil, you know where you belong and it's not with Jay Hova and my boy Biggie.

Baby G

I stand in the kitchen
My arms heavy with new life.
He opens one great, unblinking whale eye,
And stares at me without comprehension.

Lead Singer - a series of haiku

He doesn't care that
City Council banned smoking
It's his gah-dam show.

He introduces

The band but when he kneels, prays
Only to himself.

I was going for coral...

I have a mirror. It is a skinny mirror that I inherited when my roommates and I disbanded our apartment in Manhattan. It is sinfully ugly, but it is also a skinny mirror. I repeat, it is a SKINNY mirror. Girls, you know what this means. You step in front of it and viola! your face is slender, your neck is elegant, your collar bones are refined... you're practically wearing toe shoes and a tutu you're so instantly graceful.... but I digress.... the mirror, while being very skinny... is, as I mentioned earlier, ugly. Ugly in the sense of cheap, plastic, fake baroque, greenish gold. But I thought I could fix it. And I thought... maybe a nice coral color would be just the thing.

So I went to JoAnn's Fabrics (it was closer than Hobby Lobby) to pick out some paint. But everything I saw in the vein of coral just looked too orangy. Until I spotted a soft coral color with pink undertones - almost like the inside of a seashell.

"Hmmm," I thought, "This might just work."

It was just simple acrylic, craft paint - for use on any porous surface. And I think that was the first problem. My mirror is not exactly "porous" but I started dabbing it on anyway. At first it looked ok. Then it started to dry. And as it dried it got progressively duller..... and pinker.

But I'd already started and I couldn't really get it wiped off, so I went ahead and painted the entire thing. And so now instead of an ugly gold colored mirror, I have an even uglier pink mirror.

It's hideous.

But it is also skinny.

And for that reason, I keep it.

The Tweezers Belong in the Sink

My sink has a little problem. The little drain plug guy won't stay up. I've rejiggered it several times, to no avail. So I finally hit on a temporary solution - wedge the tweezers under it, prop it up, viola! the water drains out. Until my mom comes over. I use the bathroom, wash my hands, water drains, it's fine. I go back in a while later (after she has used the bathroom) and the tweezers are on the counter. So I put them back in. I go to bed, Mom goes to bed, it's all good. I get up in the morning and the tweezers are...... on the counter. So I put them back in. Later on Mom sheepishly confesses that she finally realized that they were in there for a reason. Ok. So we're all on board with the tweezers at this point.

The next day my sister stops by cause I'm taking her to the airport. She uses the bathroom. We leave. I get home from the airport, the tweezers are..... on the counter.

So for future reference - the tweezers belong in the sink.

Say it with me now - the tweezers belong in the sink.

One more time - the tweezers belong in the sink.

DA!

So one of my favorite websites went down for awhile and I was deeply disheartened. But on tonight, of all nights, it is working!!!

I love everything about it. I love the horrible little chimes before each chapter, I love the woman's English accent. And the man, he sounds a little older, a little more authentic - a native speaker, like maybe he's just eaten some potatoes. It's like listening to two old friends having a conversation. Albeit a rather slow, repetitive conversation, but two friends conversing nonetheless. And when the old man says "I think I broke my arm," I believe him because he is whiskery and authentic, even though it sounds more like a blessing.

http://www.visit-croatia.co.uk/croatianfortravellers/Chapter3.mp3



For more Croatian Language training:
http://www.visit-croatia.co.uk/croatianfortravellers/index.htm

Reason #482 Why I Like Small Towns

When a baby is born in a small town, it's a big event. With everything you read about shrinking rural America and the aging population and all of that, a baby is one breathless, wobbly step in the other direction. But, a baby is more than just a number in a formula calculating population growth. A baby is a part of the community, waiting to find his or her place - starting out in the arms of friends and family and neighbors, then growing up to fill in other roles, line leader, class clown, valedictorian, shortstop, farmer, teacher, neighbor, friend. And when it comes time to take another census, they will be part of a number in our favor, staving off decline for one more generation.

Every 4th of July....

I wonder what the fireflies are thinking....

Summer Bash

For ten dollars you get a green mug and all the Coors Light you want. There's a firefly in the grass and cards on the table. The band flows seamlessly from Every rose has it's thorn straight into Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door. Dude is dancing a whole new type of two step that I never quite get the hang of, but I like the way my feet pound the plywood dance floor and I can't stop smiling.

Running in a College Town - Part II

When spring finally arrives, the chairs come out.

Lawn chairs, deck chairs, bar stools, recliners, folding chairs, papasans, bean bags. Couches, if there’s enough room.

They come out and fill in the spaces around houses. Porches, parking lots, patios, even roofs. Every horizontal surface with access to a breeze needs a chair.

Only the most stalwart Adirondacks have the energy to stand up straight. The rest tilt and lean haphazardly. Listing to the left, a former member of the dining room set beckons the largest guy in the group, daring him to test its spindly legs.

It holds.
He sighs.
Cracks open a beer.

It Was Called Yellow

With a steady bass line. It sounds like my heart on a spring day. And it is a bus ride and a track meet and some crushes that never panned out. The stripe on a jersey and the handle on a lunch box. It is waiting six hours to run three races in 15 minutes. It is driving around for three hours to catch a smile at a stoplight. It was IMing and the friend who told some chick that Chris Martin was his uncle. It is a season where you can do nothing but win and the next where you just lose. It was high school and waiting. It’s a shortness of breath and anticipation. The steady bass line of a heart. And it was called yellow.

Watching the Ships Come In

In the old part of Dubrovnik there is the harbor. In the old days, the harbor was really the reason the city even came to be there. It was one of the premier ports back in the day, ships constantly coming and going, being built and repaired. Huge ships carrying probably just about anything you might have needed. But the shipping and maritime trade industry has pretty much died down now.

There is a man in the old part of Dubrovnik. He holds a guitar. He's got a harmonica positioned in front of his mouth. Around one foot, a tambourine. He plays and sings with his open case at his feet, a few CDs for sale. He's not so different from any of the musicians you see in touristy areas. But he's the only one in Dubrovnik and he's impossible to miss. We stopped and talked to him for a bit. He told us, he would love to travel someday, there's so much to see. Someday if he has the money, he'd really like to go. He told us there was an American cruise ship scheduled to arrive the next day. The days when cruise ships arrived were usually pretty profitable, but there was a chance for rain. When it rained, it was not so good to be out playing.

"But if the weather stays clear and the ship arrives," he told us, "it should be a pretty good day."

Running in a College Town

Delaware ends abruptly and after a hard left, becomes Colorado. Posh, midwestern, luxury winds down the hill to houses with haphazard floor plans and fewer windows - chopped up spaces from hasty transformations into duplexes. One car garages and carports replace 3 car garages and driveways with boats. Paint jobs become more vibrant. Dogs become louder, backyards less refined. I keep running.

Running provides a separation from life, a space soon filled with nostalgia for times not yet distant. I run past houses where I've partied. Remember who was driving and where we parked, the beers we declined. The names and faces but little else ever actually known. The crushes held secretly, observed these days leave me feeling sheepish. I've always been one to embrace idiocy, take it and make it my own. I keep on running and wonder who lives there now.

At Bobo's Drive-In

At Bobo’s Drive-In, a girl with strawberry orange hair and a scruffy boy sit at the counter. He looks at her and sings country love songs along with the radio. She wears heavy eyeliner. He keeps his wallet on a chain. She tells him stories about things she has had in her hair. That one time at school when someone spilled mashed potatoes and gravy on her head. An unfortunate incident with a bird. He laughs, calls her gross and kisses her. She adores him, this much is clear even from the corner booth where I sit, trying not to smile too broadly. They are so in love. And for several minutes, Bobo’s is the best place in the world. Then I bite into my cheeseburger and discover they automatically load ‘em up with mayo, mustard, three pickles and a slice of tomato. Blast. Stupid Bobo’s.

Unrequited Snow Day

Kansas got some weather this week. It was pretty bad in some places. I, however, was left disappointed. There was a lot of build up at work. People calling home, sending spouses out for firewood and snow melt... talk of shutting down the offices Tuesday and, maybe even Wednesday... Gasp! Leaving early before it gets bad....worried glances out windows....contingency plans... It was a little bit ridiculous. People were preparing for the apocalypse. I couldn't figure it out. We're all adults. Pretty sure this isn't the first rodeo to roll into town. We live in areas where salt trucks are ready to hit the road as soon as the words "winter storm advisory" fall from the weatherman's lips. What's the big fuss? Quit freaking out.
(Meanwhile, I was hopeful)

I woke up Tuesday and laid in bed for a little while because my alarm hadn't gone off. Finally I thought, well I should at least see what time it is. I sat up, and my alarm was black. NO ELECTRICITY!! I jumped up and flipped the light switch just to check... Yep! NO ELECTRICITY!! YES!!! I was sure we wouldn't have to go in to work. Then my phone rang.

"So did you hear the office is still going to be open today?"

There was a loud crash as my snow day dreams collapsed around me. I was still hopeful though. If I couldn't get into my car, I couldn't go to work, right?

So I bundled up, grabbed my mittens and stepped outside. I got to my car and stood there baffled. There was no ice. I didn't even have to scrape my windshield. My brain was filled with cognitive dissonance. Big, nasty winter storm. No Electricity. No Ice. Big, nasty winter storm. No ice. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. No ice.

As the week has gone on, and I keep hearing announcements about school closings I have become more and more disgruntled. I got cheated out of a snow day and everyone else just keeps getting more.

This is the weather of my discontent.

From Brooklyn

If you stand at the edge of Brooklyn, looking out over the water, there is a view of the city and the bridge. It's the view that is shown in one of the final scenes of the movie Munich. It's beautiful. But when I was there, it was cold and I was in the middle of eating a warm cinnamon raisin bagel. The sky was overcast and there just wasn't much contrast between the tall gray skyscrapers and the November sky. I knew it wouldn't be much of a picture. Still, I wish I had taken one.

I'm Dreaming of A White Strip Christmas

The best thing about Christmas is having white teeth???
A gleaming smile is the reason for the season???


I just saw a commercial advertising whitening strips. There was a family having a wonderful time frolicking in the snow, with a closeup of a beautiful smile. Then the voice over started going on about having a white smile they'll never forget, just in time for the holidays... blah blah blah... As if there aren't enough other things to think about during the holiday season, you must also make sure you have white teeth. That above all things must be done. Forget the stockings hung by the chimney with care, forget chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Forget Joy to the World and Peace on Earth. What we need is White Teeth!

Heart On Your Shoulder

One of Kristi's classmates came to class wearing a polo emblazoned with the Cialis logo. Not quite the same as wearing your heart on your sleeve, but similar, I guess...

Pizza Pizza

Transcript of an actual conversation that took place earlier this evening:

"This couch sucks out all my ambition."


(pause)


"Maybe if Caesar would have had one of these, he'd still be alive."