That's the day I received Colin Firth's highly acclaimed 2009 film "A Single Man" from Netflix. Though it was number one on my Netflix queue (that's the reason they sent it, of course), I never could find the 100 minutes to sit and view it. And this from a guy who rarely works more than twenty hours a week. No, on evenings when I'm watching TV, it's typically to get caught up on what's been taped on the DVR.
It took "A Single Man" being on that DVR for me to finally watch it. You see, I saw that it was playing on Showtime a few days ago and knowing that it would be presented in HD, as opposed to standard def (which is the type of DVD player I have), thought that might be just the thing I'd need to finally catch it. This turned out the be the case as the day before yesterday, I watched the film with my life partner.
The movie, which takes place in 1962, is about a man whose partner of sixteen years has died in a car accident. For months afterward, the hardest part of his day is just getting out of bed. Though he has a beautiful house, a job as a college professor, and is surrounded by friends who adore him, life is no longer worth living. The movie spends twenty-four hours with him, a day that will wind up being the most pivotal of his life.
I've expressed before how magical it is to sit down and watch a film and then be floored, feeling things that you never expected to, going to work the next day and feeling blessed that you were witness to such a work of heart. "A Single Man" was just this to me and in 9 times out of 10, the movies I fall hardest for are the ones that have fantastic endings ("Titanic" and "American Beauty" being two examples). As the credits rolled, my wife asked what grade I'd give it. I said, "An A". She said she felt the same.
I'm going to be keeping the DVD a little bit longer now so that I can watch "The Making of" and listen to the movie's commentary. If I'd known that the film was going to resonate so strongly with me, I'd have watched it months ago. But such is life sometimes, when the very thing that will bring you incredible happiness is right under your nose, there all the time, just waiting to be experienced.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Fort Myers
In March of 1993, my stepdad took me to Florida; it was my first visit to the Sunshine State. If you'd like to read an account of my experiences on that first day, written just weeks after it occurred, click here.
On the third day, we drove from West Palm Beach to Fort Myers, Florida. It was the only chance I got to spend a significant amount of time on the roads of Florida. The number of orange groves we passed made it patently obvious that we were down south. We listened to a good deal of country music as that was what I was into at the time and he didn't mind it too much. When Radney Foster's hit, "Nobody Wins" came on, he pontificated on how that was certainly the case when it came to marriages breaking up, as his and my mother's was. Well, I thought, if one of the parties wasn't happy in the relationship, leaving it could be construed as a win of sorts.
In the early afternoon, we arrived at our destination, Hammond Stadium, the spring training home for the Minnesota Twins.
The complex was beautiful and though the game would be split-squad, meaning only half the team would be playing, being able to see my heroes up close and outdoors was sure to be a treat. We headed to our seats which were about eight rows up along the first base line. I was disappointed that Kirby Puckett, the most popular Twin, wasn't in the lineup, but a relatively new guy named Chuck Knoblach was there. I actually had a poster on him on my apartment wall that had him jumping in the air at second base to throw someone out at first called "New Kid on the Blauch". I still have this baseball card of him in the basement:
When the game ended, I encouraged my stepdad to sit outside the stadium for a time so that I could see some of the players leaving in their street clothes. I got a nice little thrill seeing Knoblauch driving off the grounds in a nice car with a smile on his face. We headed off for a bite and then to Orlando, where I would have my first bite of Universal Studios Florida.
On the third day, we drove from West Palm Beach to Fort Myers, Florida. It was the only chance I got to spend a significant amount of time on the roads of Florida. The number of orange groves we passed made it patently obvious that we were down south. We listened to a good deal of country music as that was what I was into at the time and he didn't mind it too much. When Radney Foster's hit, "Nobody Wins" came on, he pontificated on how that was certainly the case when it came to marriages breaking up, as his and my mother's was. Well, I thought, if one of the parties wasn't happy in the relationship, leaving it could be construed as a win of sorts.
In the early afternoon, we arrived at our destination, Hammond Stadium, the spring training home for the Minnesota Twins.
The complex was beautiful and though the game would be split-squad, meaning only half the team would be playing, being able to see my heroes up close and outdoors was sure to be a treat. We headed to our seats which were about eight rows up along the first base line. I was disappointed that Kirby Puckett, the most popular Twin, wasn't in the lineup, but a relatively new guy named Chuck Knoblach was there. I actually had a poster on him on my apartment wall that had him jumping in the air at second base to throw someone out at first called "New Kid on the Blauch". I still have this baseball card of him in the basement:
There were some clouds in the sky as the game got underway, but they moved on. I took a number of pictures during the early innings, including one of the moment that a hitter made contact with a ball. I ended up having it converted into an 8 x 10 so that I could look at it from time to time in my apartment and remember that lovely March afternoon.
Later, I purchased a Minnesota Twins Fort Myers T-shirt that had pictures of alligators on it. I wore it with pride that summer, that summer when I would gain so many friends, but my happiness would rapidly erode. I was feeling great that day, however, breathing in the warm air. I don't believe the Twins won, but it didn't matter. This was merely spring training, a time for the players to get back into shape.When the game ended, I encouraged my stepdad to sit outside the stadium for a time so that I could see some of the players leaving in their street clothes. I got a nice little thrill seeing Knoblauch driving off the grounds in a nice car with a smile on his face. We headed off for a bite and then to Orlando, where I would have my first bite of Universal Studios Florida.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Recent Facebook Status Updates
For those who aren't friends with me on Facebook, here are some of the postings I've made over the past few months:
There are few pleasures greater than putting on a pair of underwear that have just come out of the dryer.
"This is hard" - comment made by my wife two minutes into her first ShakeWeight workout
I was listening to a Christmas song yesterday and one of the lyrics was that Jesus's death was much less joyous than his birth. I'm like, "Whose isn't?"
Some time ago, when I was checking out at Target, the cashier asked if I'd be interested in signing up for one of their credit cards; they're bright red. I said I would if I could get it in purple. She said they weren't available like that, which is great as I wasn't interested in it, anyway.
I'll sometimes use my fingers for counting at work, but will only move the very tips of them so my colleagues won't realize what I'm doing.
The commercials for Proactiv almost make me wish I had acne. What else could compel such striking Before and After pics?
The expiration date on my bottle of Aquafina is December 21, 2012. They obviously got the memo that no one will be drinking the stuff the day after.
Went to Subway two days ago to get a six-inch before work. The guy working asked if I'd like a footlong, that it would be just a little bit more to get one. I told him, "No, I get intimidated by anything that's a foot long".
There are few pleasures greater than putting on a pair of underwear that have just come out of the dryer.
"This is hard" - comment made by my wife two minutes into her first ShakeWeight workout
I was listening to a Christmas song yesterday and one of the lyrics was that Jesus's death was much less joyous than his birth. I'm like, "Whose isn't?"
Some time ago, when I was checking out at Target, the cashier asked if I'd be interested in signing up for one of their credit cards; they're bright red. I said I would if I could get it in purple. She said they weren't available like that, which is great as I wasn't interested in it, anyway.
I'll sometimes use my fingers for counting at work, but will only move the very tips of them so my colleagues won't realize what I'm doing.
The commercials for Proactiv almost make me wish I had acne. What else could compel such striking Before and After pics?
The expiration date on my bottle of Aquafina is December 21, 2012. They obviously got the memo that no one will be drinking the stuff the day after.
Went to Subway two days ago to get a six-inch before work. The guy working asked if I'd like a footlong, that it would be just a little bit more to get one. I told him, "No, I get intimidated by anything that's a foot long".
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Horticulture
Though never agrarian in any sense, I felt it would do me some good to take a class in Horticulture in 11th grade. All Ag classes were taught in an annex of the Senior High building which had a greenhouse attached to it. I showed up the first day and was introduced to our teacher, a nice-looking lady who appeared to be in her early 50's. Her name was Mrs. Raddatz and though her hair was a bit grey, I quickly grew to like her. Instead of individual desks, our classroom had eight long tables; two people could be seated at each one. As was typical of me in those days, I chose a place in the back row. I wound up having my own table as we had a small class, about seven people.
I deflated a bit on that first day when the teacher told us that every Monday we would be required to water the plants placed high in the concourse. I didn't like the idea of the students sitting in the concourse (they were in study hall) seeing me with a watering device. They might think I was a femme. I always first sought to water the plants that were the furthest from the study hall kids. On occasion, I got stuck doing the ones closest. I shouldn't have worried, though. There was a guy who came off as much tougher than me named Butch who didn't seem to mind the task.
Butch ultimately come off as too masculine, however. He'd frequently pick on a guy who sat at the table behind him. His name was Matt and he dressed, well, fabulously. It was obvious he was gay, but I had no problem with his gentle soul. When Butch derided him, Matt typically ignored it.
One great aspect of the class was being able to get up and walk around the greenhouse.
That kind of hands-on thing wasn't typical of other high school classes. One morning, as class was about to start, the teacher gave me a note that said I was to report to the administrative offices. It had to do with a recent appointment I'd had with the counselor.
You see, the teacher I had for my Video class had noticed that while other students spent lots of time talking to their peers during downtimes, I was content to just sit in my seat. He thought there might be something wrong with me being a loner, so requested that Mr. Timm see me. I talked to Timm one afternoon and he said that there was nothing wrong with being on the quiet side, that he had the tendency to be this way himself, that the world would be much too rowdy if everyone had an outgoing personality. Timm made me feel that I was just fine being who I was. I never went up to Opprecht, the Video teacher and confronted him on what he'd done. Hell, that'd be going against my MO.
One other note about the Video class: there was a Jehovah's Witness girl named Jina who was in a more advanced class in which students were required to lip-sync to a favorite song of theirs. Now, for this to make sense, you have to realize that Witnesses believe that they will live forever in paradise on Earth. The song she chose was Belinda Carlisle's "Heaven on Earth". Ridiculously appropriate, I thought. I used to fantasize about what song I would sing if I took the class. It would mostly likely be a Beatles one as I was big on them back then.
Anyway, someone in the admin offices apparently wanted to go over one more thing in regards to the issue, but I didn't want to miss a minute of the Hort class (I was really concerned about getting good grades at that time), so ignored the request and watched one of those filmstrips that were so prevalent in 80's high schools.
One afternoon, as we broke for the greenhouse, a classmate named Ben was trying to get through, but a girl named LeJeanna was blocking his way. After a beat, he said, "Move out of the way or I'll boof you". I just saw her working at ShopKo last week and couldn't help but think of that incident when I saw her.
A number of years later, while attending college, I was watching Jenny Jones. A man came onto the stage whose name was Mattress Fever. He looked familiar, so I stepped close to the screen. Oh my god, it was Matt from the Horticulture class. He had apparently changed his name. We all watch talk shows from time to time, but never expect to see anyone we know on them. I was glad to see that he was doing well and still dressing fabulously. Butch, I'm sure, would have a different reaction, but there are few things grander than being exactly who you are.
I deflated a bit on that first day when the teacher told us that every Monday we would be required to water the plants placed high in the concourse. I didn't like the idea of the students sitting in the concourse (they were in study hall) seeing me with a watering device. They might think I was a femme. I always first sought to water the plants that were the furthest from the study hall kids. On occasion, I got stuck doing the ones closest. I shouldn't have worried, though. There was a guy who came off as much tougher than me named Butch who didn't seem to mind the task.
Butch ultimately come off as too masculine, however. He'd frequently pick on a guy who sat at the table behind him. His name was Matt and he dressed, well, fabulously. It was obvious he was gay, but I had no problem with his gentle soul. When Butch derided him, Matt typically ignored it.
One great aspect of the class was being able to get up and walk around the greenhouse.
That kind of hands-on thing wasn't typical of other high school classes. One morning, as class was about to start, the teacher gave me a note that said I was to report to the administrative offices. It had to do with a recent appointment I'd had with the counselor.
You see, the teacher I had for my Video class had noticed that while other students spent lots of time talking to their peers during downtimes, I was content to just sit in my seat. He thought there might be something wrong with me being a loner, so requested that Mr. Timm see me. I talked to Timm one afternoon and he said that there was nothing wrong with being on the quiet side, that he had the tendency to be this way himself, that the world would be much too rowdy if everyone had an outgoing personality. Timm made me feel that I was just fine being who I was. I never went up to Opprecht, the Video teacher and confronted him on what he'd done. Hell, that'd be going against my MO.
One other note about the Video class: there was a Jehovah's Witness girl named Jina who was in a more advanced class in which students were required to lip-sync to a favorite song of theirs. Now, for this to make sense, you have to realize that Witnesses believe that they will live forever in paradise on Earth. The song she chose was Belinda Carlisle's "Heaven on Earth". Ridiculously appropriate, I thought. I used to fantasize about what song I would sing if I took the class. It would mostly likely be a Beatles one as I was big on them back then.
Anyway, someone in the admin offices apparently wanted to go over one more thing in regards to the issue, but I didn't want to miss a minute of the Hort class (I was really concerned about getting good grades at that time), so ignored the request and watched one of those filmstrips that were so prevalent in 80's high schools.
One afternoon, as we broke for the greenhouse, a classmate named Ben was trying to get through, but a girl named LeJeanna was blocking his way. After a beat, he said, "Move out of the way or I'll boof you". I just saw her working at ShopKo last week and couldn't help but think of that incident when I saw her.
A number of years later, while attending college, I was watching Jenny Jones. A man came onto the stage whose name was Mattress Fever. He looked familiar, so I stepped close to the screen. Oh my god, it was Matt from the Horticulture class. He had apparently changed his name. We all watch talk shows from time to time, but never expect to see anyone we know on them. I was glad to see that he was doing well and still dressing fabulously. Butch, I'm sure, would have a different reaction, but there are few things grander than being exactly who you are.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Here's Something to Chew On
Yesterday afternoon around 5pm, I sat Indian-style on the bathroom floor while reading the latest issue of TIME magazine as I ate a Smart Ones Fajita Chicken wood-fired pizza. The article that I was browsing during said meal was about the troubles that Arizona is currently experiencing, problems like illegal immigration, an education system that is in the bottom ten of the fifty states, and the site of a shooting that made headlines for a number of weeks earlier this year.
About halfway through my meal, as I bit into another portion, I felt something hard. Weird, I thought. I chewed one more time and still felt something hard in my mouth; that's what she said. I spit the portion out and saw nothing but chewed-up food, so threw it into the toilet (just inches from my face) and flushed. I finished the pizza and began using my tongue to remove the debris that had accumulated over the meal. Just then, I felt something weird on the upper left-side of my mouth. Either an extra-large piece of debris or....no, it couldn't be.
I looked in the mirror and saw that a piece of my tooth was missing; the filling was now fully exposed and I was reminded of the movie "Terminator", feeling a bit more machine now than I was five minutes before. Before telling my wife, I headed onto the internet to find out what my options were, if tooth fairies still come if one inadvertently flushes a molar down the toilet.
About halfway through my meal, as I bit into another portion, I felt something hard. Weird, I thought. I chewed one more time and still felt something hard in my mouth; that's what she said. I spit the portion out and saw nothing but chewed-up food, so threw it into the toilet (just inches from my face) and flushed. I finished the pizza and began using my tongue to remove the debris that had accumulated over the meal. Just then, I felt something weird on the upper left-side of my mouth. Either an extra-large piece of debris or....no, it couldn't be.
I looked in the mirror and saw that a piece of my tooth was missing; the filling was now fully exposed and I was reminded of the movie "Terminator", feeling a bit more machine now than I was five minutes before. Before telling my wife, I headed onto the internet to find out what my options were, if tooth fairies still come if one inadvertently flushes a molar down the toilet.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
268 Lafayette
During 10th and 11th grade, I lived with my mother and stepdad in a 3-bedroom apartment. It was actually part of a very large house in downtown Winona. From there, it was a mere 2-block walk to Midtown Foods where we went to rent videos. Midtown was cool in that me or any of my siblings could go there on our own and pick a movie or two out. We merely had to sign the rental contract. Some of the movies they rented which I had no interest in were "Top Gun" and "The Secret of My Success".
Five blocks further, there was another place called Video Hits which had a greater selection, but wound up being shut down because they were renting out porn. There were two consecutive doorways to get to that section. The first led to science fiction, which I frequented, and a few steps past that was the XXX section. Some might've saw me heading to sci-fi and think I was going to check out porn, but it was merely to see what they had for Star Wars-type films; "Star Whores" would have to wait.
A number of years earlier, my mother took us boys to a barbershop called Farrell's. Playboy magazines were liberally strewn throughout the shop. Though curious, I never picked up an issue while my much younger brother, Matt, had no such hesitations.
A couple of times, getting home from school, I noticed that my mom had locked the front door. She was supposed to have left it unlocked when she left home after eating lunch. Rather than wait around, I headed to the side of the house where my bedroom was located and was able to finagle the window open and sneak in that way.
My four younger siblings visited on the weekends while I had the week to myself. My bedroom was sweet in that the space under the door was extra wide on one corner. It allowed me, when I laid on the floor, to see everyone that was sitting on the living room couch watching TV. One night in October of 1987, I watched as they celebrated the Minnesota Twins' victory in Game One of the World Series. I was really into the Beatles then and explicitly remember listening to "Within You Without You" laying there one evening. Sometimes the light would shine onto me and Matt would say, "I know you're looking under there".
At the place where he lived, if you got on top of the couch in the TV room, you could see into his bedroom. He liked listening to CD's back then on his hi-tech stereo. He had stuff by Harry Connick, Jr, Joey Lawrence, Eddie Murphy, and a disc that played a Thunderstorm for an hour.
For a number of weeks, my sister came over after school and we watched shows like "Hollywood Squares" and "Double Dare" while she munched on a small bag of Cheetos.
George Michael's "Faith" was extremely popular at the time and my sister was a big fan of it. Who wasn't?
Since I only saw them on the weekend, I liked to have fun with my brothers. On a couple of occasions, when they went to the movies and I elected to stay home, I put one of their 10-inch action-figure wrestlers on the top of the door that led into our living room.
The first person who walked in would get a surprise. I staked out a spot to watch in the kitchen as magic time approached. One time, my mom came in first. Yeesh! But on another, I got my brother, Matt. He response was swift. He went straight into my bedroom and broke my Luke Skywalker Dagobah glass. As he came back out into the living room, I said, "You're gonna have to pay for that".
I especially enjoyed it when my mother and stepdad would go out of town. They typically left me with five or ten bucks and stocked the fridge with my two favorite foods, Little Debbie Zebra Cakes and Totino's Pizza. It was great having the whole place to myself, not least because it allowed me to watch movies in complete quiet and darkness. A couple of the films I enjoyed during this time were "Silver Bullet" and "Christine". Late at night was when the real magic happened as we had HBO and Showtime; translation: I got to watch soft porn.
Five blocks further, there was another place called Video Hits which had a greater selection, but wound up being shut down because they were renting out porn. There were two consecutive doorways to get to that section. The first led to science fiction, which I frequented, and a few steps past that was the XXX section. Some might've saw me heading to sci-fi and think I was going to check out porn, but it was merely to see what they had for Star Wars-type films; "Star Whores" would have to wait.
A number of years earlier, my mother took us boys to a barbershop called Farrell's. Playboy magazines were liberally strewn throughout the shop. Though curious, I never picked up an issue while my much younger brother, Matt, had no such hesitations.
A couple of times, getting home from school, I noticed that my mom had locked the front door. She was supposed to have left it unlocked when she left home after eating lunch. Rather than wait around, I headed to the side of the house where my bedroom was located and was able to finagle the window open and sneak in that way.
My four younger siblings visited on the weekends while I had the week to myself. My bedroom was sweet in that the space under the door was extra wide on one corner. It allowed me, when I laid on the floor, to see everyone that was sitting on the living room couch watching TV. One night in October of 1987, I watched as they celebrated the Minnesota Twins' victory in Game One of the World Series. I was really into the Beatles then and explicitly remember listening to "Within You Without You" laying there one evening. Sometimes the light would shine onto me and Matt would say, "I know you're looking under there".
At the place where he lived, if you got on top of the couch in the TV room, you could see into his bedroom. He liked listening to CD's back then on his hi-tech stereo. He had stuff by Harry Connick, Jr, Joey Lawrence, Eddie Murphy, and a disc that played a Thunderstorm for an hour.
For a number of weeks, my sister came over after school and we watched shows like "Hollywood Squares" and "Double Dare" while she munched on a small bag of Cheetos.
George Michael's "Faith" was extremely popular at the time and my sister was a big fan of it. Who wasn't?
Since I only saw them on the weekend, I liked to have fun with my brothers. On a couple of occasions, when they went to the movies and I elected to stay home, I put one of their 10-inch action-figure wrestlers on the top of the door that led into our living room.
The first person who walked in would get a surprise. I staked out a spot to watch in the kitchen as magic time approached. One time, my mom came in first. Yeesh! But on another, I got my brother, Matt. He response was swift. He went straight into my bedroom and broke my Luke Skywalker Dagobah glass. As he came back out into the living room, I said, "You're gonna have to pay for that".
I especially enjoyed it when my mother and stepdad would go out of town. They typically left me with five or ten bucks and stocked the fridge with my two favorite foods, Little Debbie Zebra Cakes and Totino's Pizza. It was great having the whole place to myself, not least because it allowed me to watch movies in complete quiet and darkness. A couple of the films I enjoyed during this time were "Silver Bullet" and "Christine". Late at night was when the real magic happened as we had HBO and Showtime; translation: I got to watch soft porn.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Taking It Up the Tailpipe
I think it’s a bit ridiculous the degree to which some are hung up on gas prices. It’s like they always have to look at what it’s going for in the morning and the first they hear that it may be going up, they rush out to save a few nickels. Can you imagine how different things would be if gas stations didn’t have their prices displayed on huge signs outside, if you had to enter the store to know what it was going for? Why should gas be any different than coffee?
I admit to glancing at the price of petrol once in a while and concede to getting a small amount of satisfaction when I purchased some for 3.45 last week (the price now stands at 3.75). But let’s look closer. I bought 10 gallons of gas, so saved 3.00. That means I have 3 more dollars in my checking account than I did before. Does that make me happier? Not really. I’d rather have no reaction to the increases and just pay what they’re charging. I can take it up the keister as well as anyone (that’s what she said).
Bill Maher said a number of years ago that the price of gas should be at least 5 dollars a gallon (considering the value you get from it as well as its scarcity). I agreed with his sentiments and as gas has steadily increased, I’ve paid it no mind. I do feel bad for those who have less disposable income and who, therefore, suffer more as prices increase. I guess what it comes down to is one can either piss and moan about the oil companies or do something about it (public transport, bicycling, walking, car pool, hybrid, siphon others' gas). Stop playing the victim.
(Composed on September 16, 2008 - First time posted)
I admit to glancing at the price of petrol once in a while and concede to getting a small amount of satisfaction when I purchased some for 3.45 last week (the price now stands at 3.75). But let’s look closer. I bought 10 gallons of gas, so saved 3.00. That means I have 3 more dollars in my checking account than I did before. Does that make me happier? Not really. I’d rather have no reaction to the increases and just pay what they’re charging. I can take it up the keister as well as anyone (that’s what she said).
Bill Maher said a number of years ago that the price of gas should be at least 5 dollars a gallon (considering the value you get from it as well as its scarcity). I agreed with his sentiments and as gas has steadily increased, I’ve paid it no mind. I do feel bad for those who have less disposable income and who, therefore, suffer more as prices increase. I guess what it comes down to is one can either piss and moan about the oil companies or do something about it (public transport, bicycling, walking, car pool, hybrid, siphon others' gas). Stop playing the victim.
(Composed on September 16, 2008 - First time posted)
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Magic
I was surprised to get a call from my mom the other night that her marriage to my stepdad has faltered. It's mainly a case of one party being too controlling. I don't get wanting to control others. I feel that my will for another is their will for themselves, kind of how I feel God feels about us. Why would you want to constrain those you love? Resentment is sure to build in such cases.
They did quite a number on keeping the extent of their troubles hidden. Other than some strange goings-on on Christmas Eve, I wouldn't have figured their union was in any danger. Interesting how people put a happy face on their lives when it's anything but. Some are the same on Facebook, nothing but positivity. You know they can't be like that in real life and if they are, you married the wrong person.
When I first received word that my parents were contemplating divorce twenty-eight years ago, I was watching Olivia Newton-John's concert special on HBO.
It is forever linked now with that evening. One of my siblings told me what was going on and I went to the source to see if it was true. My dad was sitting on top of my mom in the living room, but this was no sex act. He was asking why she wished to dissolve the partnership.
This happened at almost the exact moment that I was first experiencing puberty. I'd go to my 7th grade classes and get what I liked to call "tenny" (tension) headaches on many a day. My grades went into the toilet and I came to rely more on my grandmother as I began to feel more distant from my parents.
My dad moved out of the house and into an apartment complex. One evening, I went there with my siblings. It was small, but sufficient, I suppose, for a now-single man. I noticed a jar full of quarters on the nightstand. I asked if I could have some. He said that he was saving them for something or another. A moment or two later, when he wasn't looking, I took a couple dollars' worth out of it and said that I was going to head over to the mall; it was located just two blocks away.
The shopping center was mighty quiet on that evening. I headed the length of the mall to my favorite haunt, the Electric Rainbow arcade. Halfway there, I saw a girl who was in one of my classes, Courtney. She was the one who as a 1st grader, I fantasized chose me to play with out of all the boys in our class. She looked fantastic that night, a vision with beautiful blond hair and preppy clothes. She may have gazed at me as we passed each other. I wasn't sure if she even knew who I was.
I set to playing some of my favorite video games: the sitdown version of Turbo, Star Wars, Joust, stuff like that. Playing those games helped me decompress a bit. They gave me peace when that was in very short supply. I left the arcade and just a couple steps later, saw Courtney again, heading in the opposite direction as before.
This time, she smiled and said, "Hi". I said "Hi" back to her and was on cloud nine as I walked past the rest of the stores. I was living in a broken home now, but it needn't be my destiny. Someday in the not-too-distant future, I would have a family of my own and all this heartache would be a thing of the past.
Tracks I listened to while composing this:
Take Good Care Of My Heart - Jermaine Jackson & Whitney Houston
New Girl Now - Honeymoon Suite
I Go Crazy - Paul Davis
How Much I Feel - Ambrosia
They did quite a number on keeping the extent of their troubles hidden. Other than some strange goings-on on Christmas Eve, I wouldn't have figured their union was in any danger. Interesting how people put a happy face on their lives when it's anything but. Some are the same on Facebook, nothing but positivity. You know they can't be like that in real life and if they are, you married the wrong person.
When I first received word that my parents were contemplating divorce twenty-eight years ago, I was watching Olivia Newton-John's concert special on HBO.
It is forever linked now with that evening. One of my siblings told me what was going on and I went to the source to see if it was true. My dad was sitting on top of my mom in the living room, but this was no sex act. He was asking why she wished to dissolve the partnership.
This happened at almost the exact moment that I was first experiencing puberty. I'd go to my 7th grade classes and get what I liked to call "tenny" (tension) headaches on many a day. My grades went into the toilet and I came to rely more on my grandmother as I began to feel more distant from my parents.
My dad moved out of the house and into an apartment complex. One evening, I went there with my siblings. It was small, but sufficient, I suppose, for a now-single man. I noticed a jar full of quarters on the nightstand. I asked if I could have some. He said that he was saving them for something or another. A moment or two later, when he wasn't looking, I took a couple dollars' worth out of it and said that I was going to head over to the mall; it was located just two blocks away.
The shopping center was mighty quiet on that evening. I headed the length of the mall to my favorite haunt, the Electric Rainbow arcade. Halfway there, I saw a girl who was in one of my classes, Courtney. She was the one who as a 1st grader, I fantasized chose me to play with out of all the boys in our class. She looked fantastic that night, a vision with beautiful blond hair and preppy clothes. She may have gazed at me as we passed each other. I wasn't sure if she even knew who I was.
I set to playing some of my favorite video games: the sitdown version of Turbo, Star Wars, Joust, stuff like that. Playing those games helped me decompress a bit. They gave me peace when that was in very short supply. I left the arcade and just a couple steps later, saw Courtney again, heading in the opposite direction as before.
This time, she smiled and said, "Hi". I said "Hi" back to her and was on cloud nine as I walked past the rest of the stores. I was living in a broken home now, but it needn't be my destiny. Someday in the not-too-distant future, I would have a family of my own and all this heartache would be a thing of the past.
Tracks I listened to while composing this:
Take Good Care Of My Heart - Jermaine Jackson & Whitney Houston
New Girl Now - Honeymoon Suite
I Go Crazy - Paul Davis
How Much I Feel - Ambrosia
Monday, January 17, 2011
Myriads and Myriads of Memories
Four years ago, I made a number of posts regarding the time I spent in the Jehovah's Witnesses.
They can be found here, here, and here. Thanks to a regression therapist that I've recently started seeing, here are some more memories that have come to light:
The songbook back then had 119 songs. One was sung before the meeting started, another during halftime, and one more at the end. There are three that I remember to this day: The first is the last song in the book: Keep Your Eyes on the Prize. The second is called Myriads and Myriads. I don't know the name of the third, but it was unusual in that it had a bit of a bouncy beat, something unusual compared to the rest of the Witnesses' oeuvre. It's one you wouldn't necessarily mind hearing on the radio. The only lyrics I remember from it were, "If you have such faith accompanied by works, da da da da da da da da".
To this day, I don't understand why they thought it was a good idea to make children sit for two hours during the twice weekly meetings, one hour for a third meeting. Kids have to sit enough during school, but to expect them to do more in the evening hours, for subjects that most likely wouldn't interest them, should almost be considered a form of brain-deadening neglect.
I had a number of games I played to kill time while waiting for the meeting to end. If I was lucky enough to sit on the inside of a row, I counted the number of raised particles on the walls. I imagined that one was a star, another was a galaxy, over here was another galaxy, we lived here, and so on.
I knew Jehovah was on my side whenever I sat next to one of the two windows that looked out on a resident's yard. How grand, I thought it must be, as I looked at a man playing with his dog, to be able to spend a Thursday evening relaxing and unwinding, to be able to wear a T-shirt and jeans as opposed to a suit and tie. I love how the Witnesses' make a big deal about how they're not worldly yet wear clothes that are an unmistakable symbol of the world.
Another lucky break was when my parents couldn't wake up in time to take us to the Sunday meeting. I was as quiet as a mouse if I got up early on Sunday morning so as not to accidentally wake them up. There was no way I was going to try to rouse them. It'd be like knowing that today you were to have a root canal and anything went as far as trying to get out of it. Sometimes they woke up in time to just take us to the second hour which was bittersweet.
Michael Jackson was a member of the Witnesses in the early 80's which was cool in that he was the hottest singer at the time. If he found something compelling about the beliefs, maybe I should, too. These days, Prince is their most famous adherent, something that negatively affected the concert I went to see him perform at in the summer of 2004.
It had been 20 years since Purple Rain had rocked the world and his show that year was an opportunty for us all to go back to those halcyon days. Xcel Energy Center in St Paul was sold out and thousands of fans were pumped to see him perform. For the most part, it was good, but he excised some of the songs that he felt no longer fit in with his new spirituality.
I found this ironic. In the mid-80's, I surreptiously listened to his music while a Witness. Now out of the Witnesses and free to listen to whatever I wanted, Prince had decided that he was too holy for such theatrics. My highlight that night was his performance of "D.M.S.R.", a song I didn't expect to hear as the S in the song stood for sex.
My old man was not above striking me or my siblings if we stepped out of line. I recall one evening when me and one of my brothers were escorted outside by my father during the middle of a meeting. Under the starry sky, he proceeded to 'rap our backsides.
At home, he utilized a more sinister device, the belt. I have a number of scars on the middle of my back that my wife and various doctors have asked about. I'm not sure if they came from my dad, are a past-life scar, or have some other source. I don't blame him for hitting me, though. He must've known that one day, I'd be much sexier than him.
They can be found here, here, and here. Thanks to a regression therapist that I've recently started seeing, here are some more memories that have come to light:
The songbook back then had 119 songs. One was sung before the meeting started, another during halftime, and one more at the end. There are three that I remember to this day: The first is the last song in the book: Keep Your Eyes on the Prize. The second is called Myriads and Myriads. I don't know the name of the third, but it was unusual in that it had a bit of a bouncy beat, something unusual compared to the rest of the Witnesses' oeuvre. It's one you wouldn't necessarily mind hearing on the radio. The only lyrics I remember from it were, "If you have such faith accompanied by works, da da da da da da da da".
To this day, I don't understand why they thought it was a good idea to make children sit for two hours during the twice weekly meetings, one hour for a third meeting. Kids have to sit enough during school, but to expect them to do more in the evening hours, for subjects that most likely wouldn't interest them, should almost be considered a form of brain-deadening neglect.
I had a number of games I played to kill time while waiting for the meeting to end. If I was lucky enough to sit on the inside of a row, I counted the number of raised particles on the walls. I imagined that one was a star, another was a galaxy, over here was another galaxy, we lived here, and so on.
I knew Jehovah was on my side whenever I sat next to one of the two windows that looked out on a resident's yard. How grand, I thought it must be, as I looked at a man playing with his dog, to be able to spend a Thursday evening relaxing and unwinding, to be able to wear a T-shirt and jeans as opposed to a suit and tie. I love how the Witnesses' make a big deal about how they're not worldly yet wear clothes that are an unmistakable symbol of the world.
Another lucky break was when my parents couldn't wake up in time to take us to the Sunday meeting. I was as quiet as a mouse if I got up early on Sunday morning so as not to accidentally wake them up. There was no way I was going to try to rouse them. It'd be like knowing that today you were to have a root canal and anything went as far as trying to get out of it. Sometimes they woke up in time to just take us to the second hour which was bittersweet.
Michael Jackson was a member of the Witnesses in the early 80's which was cool in that he was the hottest singer at the time. If he found something compelling about the beliefs, maybe I should, too. These days, Prince is their most famous adherent, something that negatively affected the concert I went to see him perform at in the summer of 2004.
It had been 20 years since Purple Rain had rocked the world and his show that year was an opportunty for us all to go back to those halcyon days. Xcel Energy Center in St Paul was sold out and thousands of fans were pumped to see him perform. For the most part, it was good, but he excised some of the songs that he felt no longer fit in with his new spirituality.
I found this ironic. In the mid-80's, I surreptiously listened to his music while a Witness. Now out of the Witnesses and free to listen to whatever I wanted, Prince had decided that he was too holy for such theatrics. My highlight that night was his performance of "D.M.S.R.", a song I didn't expect to hear as the S in the song stood for sex.
My old man was not above striking me or my siblings if we stepped out of line. I recall one evening when me and one of my brothers were escorted outside by my father during the middle of a meeting. Under the starry sky, he proceeded to 'rap our backsides.
At home, he utilized a more sinister device, the belt. I have a number of scars on the middle of my back that my wife and various doctors have asked about. I'm not sure if they came from my dad, are a past-life scar, or have some other source. I don't blame him for hitting me, though. He must've known that one day, I'd be much sexier than him.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Yet Another Movie-Related Post
This past Saturday, I went with my high-school friend to "Tron: Legacy". The original "Tron" came out 28 years ago; I was 11 years old at the time. I remember my mother taking me to it. Though the special effects were ground-breaking, I wasn't overly impressed with the film. Looking back, I am overly impressed with my mom. She taught me to love the movies from a very young age. Back then, one couldn't go online and see what the reviews were for a given movie. The closest thing was to look at what the movie critic had said about the film in the local newspaper. My mom would base what movie the family should see on what "looks good".
While taking us to plenty of sci-fi and action films, she also enjoyed going to films that were more her style, things like "Tootsie", "9 to 5", "Arthur", and "Mr. Mom". In most cases, I had a good time going to these films as well. One of my mother's favorite parts from "Arthur" was when the butler, John Gielgud, said to Dudley Moore, while he was in the bathtub: "Perhaps you would like me to come in there and wash your dick for you, you little shit." I'm greatly looking forward to this spring's remake which stars Russell Brand as the title character.
As me and my friend walked into the screening room on Saturday afternoon, a couple men and their sons were coming out. They looked confused. We walked in to complete darkness. Other than the track lights coming off the stairs, it was pitch black. I paid it no mind and found us a seat at the very top. Gradually others came and the pre-show magic began. There were about twenty other people at the show, all of them male. I explained to my friend what had occurred in the first so he wouldn't be lost; he got lost, anyway. The plot didn't make perfect sense, you see.
Nonetheless, we had a great time. Daft Punk did the soundtrack which was full of electronic and techno beats. I was grooving throughout the film. One of my favorite moments was when Jeff Bridges' son (by the way, this was the second consecutive movie I was attending that starred Bridges) went into the old video arcade and approached the circa early-80's jukebox. The first track it played was Journey's classic "Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)". Bridges was fun as always. In one scene, when his son is yelling at him, he says, "You're messing with my Zen thing, man!" Though not a masterpiece, we had a great time with the film and were glad we went.
While taking us to plenty of sci-fi and action films, she also enjoyed going to films that were more her style, things like "Tootsie", "9 to 5", "Arthur", and "Mr. Mom". In most cases, I had a good time going to these films as well. One of my mother's favorite parts from "Arthur" was when the butler, John Gielgud, said to Dudley Moore, while he was in the bathtub: "Perhaps you would like me to come in there and wash your dick for you, you little shit." I'm greatly looking forward to this spring's remake which stars Russell Brand as the title character.
As me and my friend walked into the screening room on Saturday afternoon, a couple men and their sons were coming out. They looked confused. We walked in to complete darkness. Other than the track lights coming off the stairs, it was pitch black. I paid it no mind and found us a seat at the very top. Gradually others came and the pre-show magic began. There were about twenty other people at the show, all of them male. I explained to my friend what had occurred in the first so he wouldn't be lost; he got lost, anyway. The plot didn't make perfect sense, you see.
Nonetheless, we had a great time. Daft Punk did the soundtrack which was full of electronic and techno beats. I was grooving throughout the film. One of my favorite moments was when Jeff Bridges' son (by the way, this was the second consecutive movie I was attending that starred Bridges) went into the old video arcade and approached the circa early-80's jukebox. The first track it played was Journey's classic "Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)". Bridges was fun as always. In one scene, when his son is yelling at him, he says, "You're messing with my Zen thing, man!" Though not a masterpiece, we had a great time with the film and were glad we went.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
On Happiness & Laughter
After spending a fruitful weekend with a high-school friend, last night I took the opportunity to watch programs that had accumulated on our DVR. One of my favorite comedians, Jim Carrey, had hosted Saturday Night Live and I looked forward to checking it out. Much to my surprise, I gained nary a laugh from said program while my wife chuckled a number of times. Could it be that I just wasn't in the mood for a bit of levity?
After finishing "The Larry Sanders Show", I saw that a movie from 2004 was playing on the Independent Film Channel. Starring Tom Hanks, "The Ladykillers" was a Coen brothers movie (they directed the recent "True Grit") that I hadn't seen. The trailers made it look amusing, but I wasn't motivated enough to see it more than a half a decade ago.
It was a very unusual role for Hanks in that he played a Southern gent with an incredibly vast vocabulary and a goatee. He reminded one a bit of Colonel Sanders. There were a number of laughs in the early going and I loved how Hanks' character wasn't ashamed to use the 12-dollar words that he was familiar with; I sometimes have the tendency to dumb down my language when talking to others because I don't wish to pelt them with phrases they're not familiar with.
My wife grew tired and went to bed about an hour into the movie while I watched the heist that the film's characters had planned took place. It's a fantastic feeling to stumble upon a film that you have no expectations for, but which winds up pleasing you greatly. There was a running gag involving a garbage barge and I laughed the hardest, crying almost, when it was used for the last time in the movie's final minute. Just as an orgasm completes the sex act, so too, should the biggest laugh of a comedy come about at the very end and this is one of the rare movies that did so for me.
If it wasn't pleasing enough to close my night with a huge guffaw, my morning had started strong as well. As I drove with my friend on the interstate and looked at the farms covered by snow on a day in which the temperature hovered around 20 degrees, I was struck by a knowing that everything is perfect just the way it is. Now, that is something that I like to believe, but to actually feel it in the marrow of one's bones was a beautiful thing.
On the way home, my wife picked up a prescription while I walked a bit in the clinic's halls. I saw a lady who was walking kinda funny and smiled a bit, almost ashamed of how good I was feeling. I wanted to tell her that though it might not seem so, nothing needs fixing. A moment later, as an older man passed me, I again displayed an expression of extreme contentment. Walking outside to the car, I was tempted to skip, so great was my feeling of well-being. I do what I can each day to create my own happiness, but sometimes I'm surprised by how strongly the feeling can manifest.
After finishing "The Larry Sanders Show", I saw that a movie from 2004 was playing on the Independent Film Channel. Starring Tom Hanks, "The Ladykillers" was a Coen brothers movie (they directed the recent "True Grit") that I hadn't seen. The trailers made it look amusing, but I wasn't motivated enough to see it more than a half a decade ago.
It was a very unusual role for Hanks in that he played a Southern gent with an incredibly vast vocabulary and a goatee. He reminded one a bit of Colonel Sanders. There were a number of laughs in the early going and I loved how Hanks' character wasn't ashamed to use the 12-dollar words that he was familiar with; I sometimes have the tendency to dumb down my language when talking to others because I don't wish to pelt them with phrases they're not familiar with.
My wife grew tired and went to bed about an hour into the movie while I watched the heist that the film's characters had planned took place. It's a fantastic feeling to stumble upon a film that you have no expectations for, but which winds up pleasing you greatly. There was a running gag involving a garbage barge and I laughed the hardest, crying almost, when it was used for the last time in the movie's final minute. Just as an orgasm completes the sex act, so too, should the biggest laugh of a comedy come about at the very end and this is one of the rare movies that did so for me.
If it wasn't pleasing enough to close my night with a huge guffaw, my morning had started strong as well. As I drove with my friend on the interstate and looked at the farms covered by snow on a day in which the temperature hovered around 20 degrees, I was struck by a knowing that everything is perfect just the way it is. Now, that is something that I like to believe, but to actually feel it in the marrow of one's bones was a beautiful thing.
On the way home, my wife picked up a prescription while I walked a bit in the clinic's halls. I saw a lady who was walking kinda funny and smiled a bit, almost ashamed of how good I was feeling. I wanted to tell her that though it might not seem so, nothing needs fixing. A moment later, as an older man passed me, I again displayed an expression of extreme contentment. Walking outside to the car, I was tempted to skip, so great was my feeling of well-being. I do what I can each day to create my own happiness, but sometimes I'm surprised by how strongly the feeling can manifest.
Sunday, January 02, 2011
My Return to the Movies
Last week, I went to a movie for the first time in two months. The colder weather and paucity of high quality films combined to keep me away from the movie show over Thanksgiving and Christmas. There were a couple of movies I wanted to see ("Paranormal Activity 2", "Harry Potter and the Deathly Bowels"), but I just couldn't quite get the gumption to drive out there, think of a clever faux-name to declare to the cashier, take a whiz before the show starts, get a seat, sit through a dozen commercials (movie theatres used to be a refuge from ads) before finally getting to see the feature presentation while hoping my feet don't get cold.
My wife had been pestering me of late that she wanted to see the new "Focker" movie. A friend that she usually goes to the movies with has been busy, so it was up to me to take her to a movie she'd been eagerly anticipating for months. There was no way that I was going to see the film, though. Feeling burned by the last movie, released during the Christmas season of 2004, I wasn't about to be let down again. My love would witness Ben Stiller shenanigans while I went to "True Grit" which costars Matt Damon.
Interestingly enough, the last film I went to also starred Damon; "Hereafter", my favorite movie of 2010.
One plus of going to the theatre that we did is that they've recently reduced their pricing in order to be more family-friendly; it costs a lot of money to take a couple kids to a movie and get them pop and popcorn. Their evening shows are now $6 while matinees are just $4. We headed there in the mid-afternoon after eating at Subway; my cholesterol is a tad high, so I'm reducing my ingestion of saturated fats, not to mention trying to get more exercise. The movie theatre, in my eyes, was getting close to going out of business, so it was nice to see that the nicer prices had brought a lot of families out that day.
After getting tickets, as I'm wont to do, I strolled around the lobby and looked at the posters for upcoming movies. One thing that always brings a smile to my face is the huge paintings they have displayed high up. One is of the original poster for "Raiders of the Lost Ark", another for "E.T.". Looking up there takes me back thirty years to when I was a child and they were initially released.
After a time, she went to the "Focker" screening room where she opted to go all the way to the top and sit in the back. That's also where I chose to sit in my screening room. I noted that Jeff Bridges was starring in not only "True Grit", but in the film playing right next door, "Tron Legacy". I did see the original "Tron" when it was released in 1982, but can't say it was anything too special, though $4 might be a good incentive to check the sequel out later this week.
Once I got my seat, I laid down to my side and put my ear plugs in so as not to be adversely affected by the pre-show which consists of movie trivia and adverts. If anyone ever asks why I'm lying down, I'm going to say, "My doctor says that I can't be exposed to advertisements". Once the movie started, I took the plugs out and continued laying down though I propped my head up a bit with my right arm in order to see over the chairs in front of me. So comfortable and my feet didn't even really get cold. It could've been because of the several dozen people seated down below.
As for the movie itself, directed by the Coen brothers, it is an exemplary Western with a great cast. Terrific word-of-mouth is allowing the movie to do much better financially than was expected. I laughed out loud numerous times at some of the things that Bridges did. In his first scene, he was taking a shit in an outhouse and told the lady outside that he was gonna be in there for a while. I know the filmmakers have done their job when I leave the theatre with a smile on my face.
My wife had been pestering me of late that she wanted to see the new "Focker" movie. A friend that she usually goes to the movies with has been busy, so it was up to me to take her to a movie she'd been eagerly anticipating for months. There was no way that I was going to see the film, though. Feeling burned by the last movie, released during the Christmas season of 2004, I wasn't about to be let down again. My love would witness Ben Stiller shenanigans while I went to "True Grit" which costars Matt Damon.
Interestingly enough, the last film I went to also starred Damon; "Hereafter", my favorite movie of 2010.
One plus of going to the theatre that we did is that they've recently reduced their pricing in order to be more family-friendly; it costs a lot of money to take a couple kids to a movie and get them pop and popcorn. Their evening shows are now $6 while matinees are just $4. We headed there in the mid-afternoon after eating at Subway; my cholesterol is a tad high, so I'm reducing my ingestion of saturated fats, not to mention trying to get more exercise. The movie theatre, in my eyes, was getting close to going out of business, so it was nice to see that the nicer prices had brought a lot of families out that day.
After getting tickets, as I'm wont to do, I strolled around the lobby and looked at the posters for upcoming movies. One thing that always brings a smile to my face is the huge paintings they have displayed high up. One is of the original poster for "Raiders of the Lost Ark", another for "E.T.". Looking up there takes me back thirty years to when I was a child and they were initially released.
After a time, she went to the "Focker" screening room where she opted to go all the way to the top and sit in the back. That's also where I chose to sit in my screening room. I noted that Jeff Bridges was starring in not only "True Grit", but in the film playing right next door, "Tron Legacy". I did see the original "Tron" when it was released in 1982, but can't say it was anything too special, though $4 might be a good incentive to check the sequel out later this week.
Once I got my seat, I laid down to my side and put my ear plugs in so as not to be adversely affected by the pre-show which consists of movie trivia and adverts. If anyone ever asks why I'm lying down, I'm going to say, "My doctor says that I can't be exposed to advertisements". Once the movie started, I took the plugs out and continued laying down though I propped my head up a bit with my right arm in order to see over the chairs in front of me. So comfortable and my feet didn't even really get cold. It could've been because of the several dozen people seated down below.
As for the movie itself, directed by the Coen brothers, it is an exemplary Western with a great cast. Terrific word-of-mouth is allowing the movie to do much better financially than was expected. I laughed out loud numerous times at some of the things that Bridges did. In his first scene, he was taking a shit in an outhouse and told the lady outside that he was gonna be in there for a while. I know the filmmakers have done their job when I leave the theatre with a smile on my face.
Friday, December 31, 2010
New Years Eve 2008
Two years ago tonight, my wife and I were in Ashland, Oregon for Neale Donald Walsch's Recreating Yourself retreat. Here is what I experienced at the New Year Eve's Dinner:
That evening, there was a big dinner planned at the Ashland Springs Hotel for all attendees who agreed to pay the extra $45 for it. As far as I'm concerned, no meal is worth $45, so the wife and I didn't sign up for it. We planned to get a burger at Louie's while everyone else ate like there was no recession. Imagine our surprise when we were told that someone had offered to pay for the meals of 4 attendees who couldn't afford to go. On the next break, I went to the back room and said we were interested in attending on a "scholarship" basis.
We gussied up a tad before heading to the banquet hall. We arrived about 15 minutes after the scheduled start (this was intentional as I knew there was to be some socializing before any food was served). I asked a maitre'd if I could have a soft drink. He responded that the agreement was just that they have coffee and water available. What a rip-off! I told my wife I was going to get something liquidy out of the vending machine.
I found a dispenser on the 3rd floor (it was just outside). This was actually the 2nd time I'd been serviced by the machine; we'd been there the night before to find some chocolate to munch on before going to sleep. It was there that we petted a cat, a cat that we found out was the hotel's (shades of the shop cats we'd seen over the past few days). The cat was there yet again as I put money in for a 20 ounce container of Gatorade (I also got some juice for my beloved).
Upon my return, I found a seat and asked for a cup of ice in which to put my tasty beverage. Ah, that's much better now. I feel almost human. A few minutes later, we got in the buffet line. Neale hadn't shown yet, but had every right to be fashionably late. I'm a relatively small portion guy, so just took some chicken, a bit of mashed potatoes and something else that escapes my mind at the moment (I knew I shoulda took more detailed notes).
My wife piled it on as she was aiming to get her money's worth. We sat down and began eating. The chicken wasn't bad, but it was several degrees inferior to what was served at our wedding 10 years prior. The other stuff was mostly rubbish. I wondered if any of the others felt the same. No one was letting on at this point.
Neale and his life partner entered the room shortly thereafter. Neale was wearing a snazzy black leather jacket; very hip, I have to say. He was sitting in the table behind us, no more than 12 feet from me. He didn't make any grand statements, just ate quietly with the people who had been fortunate enough to sit at the "right" table.
I tried two desserts hoping for better luck, but again, both were shit. My wife actually liked one of the items I didn't have the heart to finish. She didn't even drink the juice I'd bought her (perhaps peer pressure led her to drink the water others were having). There was decent conversation as we got to know a few of the people at our table better. One lady was wondering what Neale thought about 2012. I just shook my head.
That evening, there was a big dinner planned at the Ashland Springs Hotel for all attendees who agreed to pay the extra $45 for it. As far as I'm concerned, no meal is worth $45, so the wife and I didn't sign up for it. We planned to get a burger at Louie's while everyone else ate like there was no recession. Imagine our surprise when we were told that someone had offered to pay for the meals of 4 attendees who couldn't afford to go. On the next break, I went to the back room and said we were interested in attending on a "scholarship" basis.
We gussied up a tad before heading to the banquet hall. We arrived about 15 minutes after the scheduled start (this was intentional as I knew there was to be some socializing before any food was served). I asked a maitre'd if I could have a soft drink. He responded that the agreement was just that they have coffee and water available. What a rip-off! I told my wife I was going to get something liquidy out of the vending machine.
I found a dispenser on the 3rd floor (it was just outside). This was actually the 2nd time I'd been serviced by the machine; we'd been there the night before to find some chocolate to munch on before going to sleep. It was there that we petted a cat, a cat that we found out was the hotel's (shades of the shop cats we'd seen over the past few days). The cat was there yet again as I put money in for a 20 ounce container of Gatorade (I also got some juice for my beloved).
Upon my return, I found a seat and asked for a cup of ice in which to put my tasty beverage. Ah, that's much better now. I feel almost human. A few minutes later, we got in the buffet line. Neale hadn't shown yet, but had every right to be fashionably late. I'm a relatively small portion guy, so just took some chicken, a bit of mashed potatoes and something else that escapes my mind at the moment (I knew I shoulda took more detailed notes).
My wife piled it on as she was aiming to get her money's worth. We sat down and began eating. The chicken wasn't bad, but it was several degrees inferior to what was served at our wedding 10 years prior. The other stuff was mostly rubbish. I wondered if any of the others felt the same. No one was letting on at this point.
Neale and his life partner entered the room shortly thereafter. Neale was wearing a snazzy black leather jacket; very hip, I have to say. He was sitting in the table behind us, no more than 12 feet from me. He didn't make any grand statements, just ate quietly with the people who had been fortunate enough to sit at the "right" table.
I tried two desserts hoping for better luck, but again, both were shit. My wife actually liked one of the items I didn't have the heart to finish. She didn't even drink the juice I'd bought her (perhaps peer pressure led her to drink the water others were having). There was decent conversation as we got to know a few of the people at our table better. One lady was wondering what Neale thought about 2012. I just shook my head.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
A Night To Remember
I've made more than 700 postings here at Minnesota Meanderings. Here is the 6th post I made (more than 4 years ago):
"In 1981, our family was on vacation in Wisconsin. Mom had agreed to take us kids to a movie. I wanted to see "The Empire Strikes Back" for the millionth time. Mom suggested we go see the new comedy with Chevy Chase and Carrie Fisher instead. I reluctantly agreed and was very pleasantly surprised. In fact, for the next two hours, we were all rolling in the aisles as we watched "Under the Rainbow".
It's not on DVD yet, but Warner Brothers does have plans to release it in the near future."
Up until last night, I hadn't seen the film since, probably 1987; it was on USA one night that year and my sister said she wanted to watch it.
That's more than 20 years for a movie that I'm reminded of every now and then. Many times, when I hear someone say "cable", I think back to the part in the movie where some midgets take some cable from the top of an elevator shaft and the black elevator operator laughs as the little people leave with it. The man then says, as he shuts the doors and presses the button to go down, "Talkin' about the cable...the cable...ahhhhh" as he crashes into the basement of the hotel and comes out a midget himself; he was full-grown before the fall. Imagine how it felt to know that another on IMDB.com has the exact same experience.
I know most of you have no idea what movie I'm even talking about, so here are a few minutes from the movie's climax to give you a taste of what it had goin' on.
The movie didn't come out on DVD as soon as I was hoping. In fact, it still hasn't had a proper DVD release. I read earlier this year that it was available at WarnerArchive as a DVD that had apparently been ripped; it can't be watched on DVD recorders. The going price was about $25 with shipping.
For years, when looking at pawn shops or thrift stores, I would take a quick look through the videotapes to see if it was there. It never happened, so I felt it was time to take matters into my own hands when I saw that it could be had for $18. It arrived by mail on Christmas Eve and I did a little 360 in celebration as I went back inside.
While seeing my mom that evening, I mentioned the film and showed her the DVD box, but she had no memory of it. While there, I found out that one of my half-sisters has a cat that is named "Monster". As a joke, I said, "Is that because of the Lady Gaga song?"; I knew she liked Gaga. Her answer was "Yes" and I was like, "OMG!"
My love affair with 1981 (the year "Rainbow" came out) continued when my mom gave me one of the things I'd requested for Christmas: The Complete Making of Indiana Jones which is primarily about the making of "Raiders of the Lost Ark" which also came out in '81.
I wound up watching "Rainbow" in the bedroom as it couldn't be watched in the family room where we have a DVD recorder. My love let me watch it on my own while she viewed other programming. Lines that went over my head as a youngster were now all too clear such as when Chevy Chase is lying on Carrie Fisher and she says, "Is that your gun?" His reply: "I'm wearing a shoulder holster".
Had I the ability to tell my 10-year old self that he would still be enjoying "Rainbow" at the age of 40, I'm sure he would have been more than a little surprised.
"In 1981, our family was on vacation in Wisconsin. Mom had agreed to take us kids to a movie. I wanted to see "The Empire Strikes Back" for the millionth time. Mom suggested we go see the new comedy with Chevy Chase and Carrie Fisher instead. I reluctantly agreed and was very pleasantly surprised. In fact, for the next two hours, we were all rolling in the aisles as we watched "Under the Rainbow".
It's not on DVD yet, but Warner Brothers does have plans to release it in the near future."
Up until last night, I hadn't seen the film since, probably 1987; it was on USA one night that year and my sister said she wanted to watch it.
That's more than 20 years for a movie that I'm reminded of every now and then. Many times, when I hear someone say "cable", I think back to the part in the movie where some midgets take some cable from the top of an elevator shaft and the black elevator operator laughs as the little people leave with it. The man then says, as he shuts the doors and presses the button to go down, "Talkin' about the cable...the cable...ahhhhh" as he crashes into the basement of the hotel and comes out a midget himself; he was full-grown before the fall. Imagine how it felt to know that another on IMDB.com has the exact same experience.
I know most of you have no idea what movie I'm even talking about, so here are a few minutes from the movie's climax to give you a taste of what it had goin' on.
The movie didn't come out on DVD as soon as I was hoping. In fact, it still hasn't had a proper DVD release. I read earlier this year that it was available at WarnerArchive as a DVD that had apparently been ripped; it can't be watched on DVD recorders. The going price was about $25 with shipping.
For years, when looking at pawn shops or thrift stores, I would take a quick look through the videotapes to see if it was there. It never happened, so I felt it was time to take matters into my own hands when I saw that it could be had for $18. It arrived by mail on Christmas Eve and I did a little 360 in celebration as I went back inside.
While seeing my mom that evening, I mentioned the film and showed her the DVD box, but she had no memory of it. While there, I found out that one of my half-sisters has a cat that is named "Monster". As a joke, I said, "Is that because of the Lady Gaga song?"; I knew she liked Gaga. Her answer was "Yes" and I was like, "OMG!"
My love affair with 1981 (the year "Rainbow" came out) continued when my mom gave me one of the things I'd requested for Christmas: The Complete Making of Indiana Jones which is primarily about the making of "Raiders of the Lost Ark" which also came out in '81.
I wound up watching "Rainbow" in the bedroom as it couldn't be watched in the family room where we have a DVD recorder. My love let me watch it on my own while she viewed other programming. Lines that went over my head as a youngster were now all too clear such as when Chevy Chase is lying on Carrie Fisher and she says, "Is that your gun?" His reply: "I'm wearing a shoulder holster".
Had I the ability to tell my 10-year old self that he would still be enjoying "Rainbow" at the age of 40, I'm sure he would have been more than a little surprised.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Backyard Shenanigans
Watching football last night, I saw a commercial for a game being played this evening between the Chicago Bears and the Minnesota Vikings. It was noted that this would be the first time the Vikings would be playing an outdoor game in Minnesota since December 20, 1981 (they've played in a dome since then, a dome that collapsed earlier this month due to the heavy amount of snow that fell).
They also showed a few seconds of that last game, played where the Mall of America is now located. The quarterback for Minnesota back then was Tommy Kramer.
I liked how we had the same first name.
This was right around the time that I was getting into the NFL. My dad and uncle helped explain to me how the game worked. At my grandma's, there were a number of Sports Illustrated issues from the Vikings glory years (the mid-70's) when they went to four Super Bowls.
Looking to get my mitts on as much info about the game as possible, I bought a paperback book that had all the major NFL records in it; it told me who all the past Super Bowl winners were, which quarterback had the most passing yards (the Vikings' 70's QB, Fran Tarkenton), and how to have sex with a cup on.
I had a game I liked to play with myself in the backyard. We had a one-car garage and I'd take a tennis ball and glove and throw the ball onto the garage's shingles; the garage had a slant to it. I would aim for a specific row and then try to catch the ball as it came down. Sometimes I would aim for the highest row (closest to the other side) without the ball going over. Playing there, I was actually in the neighbors' yard, but they didn't seem to mind.
It was while walking around to the other side of the garage that I had one of the scariest moments of my life. It was close to dusk and as I passed the entrance to the garage's shed, a mass of black flew not a foot in front of me. It had come out of the shed's broken window, a cat, it turned out to be.
I also recall playing a game of croquet with my family in that back yard. My parents had bought a nice set and we had a good time. I don't remember playing again, however. Is it because we didn't or because the other times weren't as memorable as the others? Same thing for a supper we had on our picnic table in the backyard. During that supper, Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl" played.
There was also a good deal of excitement the day our parents bought us a deluxe swing set. Not only did it have the swings, but also a slide, one of those metal bar things that girls can dangle from (precursor to the stripper pole), and a 2-seat device that could go back and forth. I was a bit big for the contraption when it arrived, but had to admit that it was a nice addition to the yard. Truth be told, I probably had more fun grabbing a portion of the new circular clothesline we had and spinning it clockwise or counter, depending on my mood. I had zero interest in the garden my mother tended though the rhubarb it produced was fantastic.
They also showed a few seconds of that last game, played where the Mall of America is now located. The quarterback for Minnesota back then was Tommy Kramer.
I liked how we had the same first name.
This was right around the time that I was getting into the NFL. My dad and uncle helped explain to me how the game worked. At my grandma's, there were a number of Sports Illustrated issues from the Vikings glory years (the mid-70's) when they went to four Super Bowls.
Looking to get my mitts on as much info about the game as possible, I bought a paperback book that had all the major NFL records in it; it told me who all the past Super Bowl winners were, which quarterback had the most passing yards (the Vikings' 70's QB, Fran Tarkenton), and how to have sex with a cup on.
I had a game I liked to play with myself in the backyard. We had a one-car garage and I'd take a tennis ball and glove and throw the ball onto the garage's shingles; the garage had a slant to it. I would aim for a specific row and then try to catch the ball as it came down. Sometimes I would aim for the highest row (closest to the other side) without the ball going over. Playing there, I was actually in the neighbors' yard, but they didn't seem to mind.
It was while walking around to the other side of the garage that I had one of the scariest moments of my life. It was close to dusk and as I passed the entrance to the garage's shed, a mass of black flew not a foot in front of me. It had come out of the shed's broken window, a cat, it turned out to be.
I also recall playing a game of croquet with my family in that back yard. My parents had bought a nice set and we had a good time. I don't remember playing again, however. Is it because we didn't or because the other times weren't as memorable as the others? Same thing for a supper we had on our picnic table in the backyard. During that supper, Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl" played.
There was also a good deal of excitement the day our parents bought us a deluxe swing set. Not only did it have the swings, but also a slide, one of those metal bar things that girls can dangle from (precursor to the stripper pole), and a 2-seat device that could go back and forth. I was a bit big for the contraption when it arrived, but had to admit that it was a nice addition to the yard. Truth be told, I probably had more fun grabbing a portion of the new circular clothesline we had and spinning it clockwise or counter, depending on my mood. I had zero interest in the garden my mother tended though the rhubarb it produced was fantastic.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Last-Minute Christmas Thoughts
With Christmas less than a week away, it went through my mind last night that not only is telling kids that Santa Claus exists an affront to a parent's duty to be truthful to their children, so too, is the Nativity story most likely a fiction.
Of course, I believe that peace and good will to men is an excellent precept year-round, but there have been too many instances where the founder of a religion is given a birth story that defies logic. Jesus is no less a good man by not having been born to a virgin or under a bright star.
Though they lean too much on the Christmas story, I do enjoy listening to Xmas music this time of year. I have more than four dozen Christmas CD's and it's quite an effort to get through most of them in the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I usually listen to one in the morning while showering and shaving, another in the car while going to work and doing other errands, and, of course, while wrapping Christmas presents.
I was able to add two more to my collection this year for a minimal price; I went to a pawn shop a few months ago and got Elvis and Josh Groban's collections for a dollar apiece. One of my favorite discs is Tori Amos's from last year. It has a number of songs that reference the winter solstice, something that preceded the Jesus story. Here's a link to one of my favorites.
Lastly, I was at Kmart last week and noticed a woman dressed all in black in one of those burqa-thingies. A number of years ago, I walked around our town's lake and when I encountered one of them, typically walking behind their husband, I would lift my eyebrows as if to say, "Damn, girl, you're HOT!!"
At the store last week, I didn't see her with anyone. Perhaps she was doing some Christmas shopping or whatever holiday it is that they celebrate. What caught my eye, though, was what she had in her hand and wound up checking out with: some kind of perfume or body spray called Sexual Fantasies. I was taken for a loop and thought, "Repressed MUCH?"
Of course, I believe that peace and good will to men is an excellent precept year-round, but there have been too many instances where the founder of a religion is given a birth story that defies logic. Jesus is no less a good man by not having been born to a virgin or under a bright star.
Though they lean too much on the Christmas story, I do enjoy listening to Xmas music this time of year. I have more than four dozen Christmas CD's and it's quite an effort to get through most of them in the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I usually listen to one in the morning while showering and shaving, another in the car while going to work and doing other errands, and, of course, while wrapping Christmas presents.
I was able to add two more to my collection this year for a minimal price; I went to a pawn shop a few months ago and got Elvis and Josh Groban's collections for a dollar apiece. One of my favorite discs is Tori Amos's from last year. It has a number of songs that reference the winter solstice, something that preceded the Jesus story. Here's a link to one of my favorites.
Lastly, I was at Kmart last week and noticed a woman dressed all in black in one of those burqa-thingies. A number of years ago, I walked around our town's lake and when I encountered one of them, typically walking behind their husband, I would lift my eyebrows as if to say, "Damn, girl, you're HOT!!"
At the store last week, I didn't see her with anyone. Perhaps she was doing some Christmas shopping or whatever holiday it is that they celebrate. What caught my eye, though, was what she had in her hand and wound up checking out with: some kind of perfume or body spray called Sexual Fantasies. I was taken for a loop and thought, "Repressed MUCH?"
Monday, December 13, 2010
My Visit to a Hindu Temple
On the recommendation of a friend who had read my book, I made a visit to the town's Hindu temple two weeks ago. This friend felt that although my belief system lined up with Buddhism, I might get something out of going to what amounted to a Hindu Bible study. He had been attending for the past couple months. Knowing that life begins at the end of one's comfort zone, I agreed.
While getting ready, I decided to go for something a bit more formal than what I typically wear: black dress shoes and black corduroys. I arrived about 25 minutes before the service was to start. As I stepped inside, I saw an Indian lady at the door. I said, "Hi", but she didn't say anything back. She headed downstairs as I took off my coat.
It was then that I noticed the sign that said one must remove their shoes before entering the inner sanctuary; my friend had said that I would have to take them off, but I'd conveniently forgotten. My feet get cold easily, so I was a tad nervous about making it a full hour without any coverings, other than my socks, that is.
As I walked into the temple proper, I saw an Indian and a Honky talking quietly. I was a bit floored (pun intended) when I saw that there were no chairs in there (save for half a dozen on the left side of the room). I let the two gentlemen continue their discussion while I sat on the floor cross-legged. I looked around the room which had about a dozen various Hindu deities with an equal number of candles lit next to them. I pretended to meditate while I waited for others, including my friend, to arrive.
After a time, the white guy got up and greeted me. A tad older than I, he was a former Christian who had justifyingly grown dissatisfied with the faith. As he looked at "the gods" we were surrounded by, he said he didn't know any of the names of them, but was looking forward to learning. That is one aspect that can be cool about a new faith: learning its history and traditions. I could tell that this man was very earnest in his search and saw a bit of myself from my college days.
My friend arrived a few minutes later and gave me an extra copy of the Bhagavad Gita, the scripture we would be studying.
I quickly headed downstairs to the bathroom before things got going. There wound up being six males for the study, three crackers and three of the Indian persuasion. One man led the study by reading a number of verses from the Gita and then elaborating on what they meant. Throughout the hour, I was tempted, sitting on the floor, to spread my legs out, but knew that that would be a no-no, so continued to sit Indian-style (more puns) as time went by. One thing was certain: I was going to have better posture coming out of this thing.
There were a number of points brought up that I was in hearty agreement with, things like it takes more than one life to experience all there is to know about the human experience and that one's misery can be greatly reduced by detaching from things having to go a certain way in one's life. It was also acknowledged that God is in everything, including dogs (there's no doubt of that in my mind). Another thing I liked was that there was no talk of Jesus as these scriptures were written hundreds of years before God had his way with Mary. Jesus is cool, but he is pre-dated by a huge percentage of respective human history and evolution.
As time went on, the room got steadily darker, so dark, in fact, that it was becoming difficult to see the others' faces. I wondered if/when someone was going to turn on the lights. A few minutes later, the women and children, who had been playing downstairs, came up to close the service. One of the women turned on the lights as the others got in line to praise a favorite deity. I stood in back and watched this take place. A song was also sung by the group before we finally adjourned.
Just before leaving, I told my friend that I had enjoyed the service. He asked if I would return. I said I wasn't sure. I shook the hand of the other white guy and wished him good luck on detachment; it was something he said he was working on.
Next, I arranged to meet my wife at Famous Dave's. Being Jewish, she said her parents would have a fit if they knew she went to a Hindu temple. The good vibes from the service apparently were making an impact as I felt like smiling while sitting at the restaurant. As we began eating our entrees', I saw a number of wet spots on my upper shirt. I couldn't figure out where the hell they would've come from. I smelled them and looked a bit closer at the color before realizing that it was corn juice; it had sprayed from my love's mouth to the collar of my shirt. Fifteen minutes later, without doing a thing, the stain had faded.
My good mood continued as we finished up. At the table next to us, a couple were having burgers. I laughed out loud as the woman squirted an almost-empty ketchup bottle onto her cowpie and it made the sound of a juicy fart.
While getting ready, I decided to go for something a bit more formal than what I typically wear: black dress shoes and black corduroys. I arrived about 25 minutes before the service was to start. As I stepped inside, I saw an Indian lady at the door. I said, "Hi", but she didn't say anything back. She headed downstairs as I took off my coat.
It was then that I noticed the sign that said one must remove their shoes before entering the inner sanctuary; my friend had said that I would have to take them off, but I'd conveniently forgotten. My feet get cold easily, so I was a tad nervous about making it a full hour without any coverings, other than my socks, that is.
As I walked into the temple proper, I saw an Indian and a Honky talking quietly. I was a bit floored (pun intended) when I saw that there were no chairs in there (save for half a dozen on the left side of the room). I let the two gentlemen continue their discussion while I sat on the floor cross-legged. I looked around the room which had about a dozen various Hindu deities with an equal number of candles lit next to them. I pretended to meditate while I waited for others, including my friend, to arrive.
After a time, the white guy got up and greeted me. A tad older than I, he was a former Christian who had justifyingly grown dissatisfied with the faith. As he looked at "the gods" we were surrounded by, he said he didn't know any of the names of them, but was looking forward to learning. That is one aspect that can be cool about a new faith: learning its history and traditions. I could tell that this man was very earnest in his search and saw a bit of myself from my college days.
My friend arrived a few minutes later and gave me an extra copy of the Bhagavad Gita, the scripture we would be studying.
I quickly headed downstairs to the bathroom before things got going. There wound up being six males for the study, three crackers and three of the Indian persuasion. One man led the study by reading a number of verses from the Gita and then elaborating on what they meant. Throughout the hour, I was tempted, sitting on the floor, to spread my legs out, but knew that that would be a no-no, so continued to sit Indian-style (more puns) as time went by. One thing was certain: I was going to have better posture coming out of this thing.
There were a number of points brought up that I was in hearty agreement with, things like it takes more than one life to experience all there is to know about the human experience and that one's misery can be greatly reduced by detaching from things having to go a certain way in one's life. It was also acknowledged that God is in everything, including dogs (there's no doubt of that in my mind). Another thing I liked was that there was no talk of Jesus as these scriptures were written hundreds of years before God had his way with Mary. Jesus is cool, but he is pre-dated by a huge percentage of respective human history and evolution.
As time went on, the room got steadily darker, so dark, in fact, that it was becoming difficult to see the others' faces. I wondered if/when someone was going to turn on the lights. A few minutes later, the women and children, who had been playing downstairs, came up to close the service. One of the women turned on the lights as the others got in line to praise a favorite deity. I stood in back and watched this take place. A song was also sung by the group before we finally adjourned.
Just before leaving, I told my friend that I had enjoyed the service. He asked if I would return. I said I wasn't sure. I shook the hand of the other white guy and wished him good luck on detachment; it was something he said he was working on.
Next, I arranged to meet my wife at Famous Dave's. Being Jewish, she said her parents would have a fit if they knew she went to a Hindu temple. The good vibes from the service apparently were making an impact as I felt like smiling while sitting at the restaurant. As we began eating our entrees', I saw a number of wet spots on my upper shirt. I couldn't figure out where the hell they would've come from. I smelled them and looked a bit closer at the color before realizing that it was corn juice; it had sprayed from my love's mouth to the collar of my shirt. Fifteen minutes later, without doing a thing, the stain had faded.
My good mood continued as we finished up. At the table next to us, a couple were having burgers. I laughed out loud as the woman squirted an almost-empty ketchup bottle onto her cowpie and it made the sound of a juicy fart.
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
My Obligatory Christmas Post
For the second year in a row, I won't be getting Christmas cards for the people with whom I'll be celebrating on Christmas Eve. Not only is it a waste of money (as most people toss the cards, anyway), but the thought of trees dying so that I can say, "I love you" to loved ones just doesn't work for me, especially since it can be done without negatively impacting the environment.
The wife and I have decided, for the first time, not to exchange any gifts this year, though I did pick up a DVD I think she'll like at Wal-Mart yesterday. Giving her a list of three to five things that I want and then acting surprised when she buys me a couple of them, well, I'm just not in the mood for such games. I told her that if she does find something that she thinks I'll like, to pick it up, but be sure to save the receipt.
My mom has taught me a good strategy for making gift-opening a bit more fun. Many times when she gives out presents, she'll have them wrapped in a box for a completely different product. I'll be getting her this time as I wrapped a 6-pack of socks that I bought her in the box for a digital camera, and it looks perfect, like it really is the camera that she's getting.
To give you an idea of what Christmas Eve is typically like for me, here is video from our 2005 celebration:
The wife and I have decided, for the first time, not to exchange any gifts this year, though I did pick up a DVD I think she'll like at Wal-Mart yesterday. Giving her a list of three to five things that I want and then acting surprised when she buys me a couple of them, well, I'm just not in the mood for such games. I told her that if she does find something that she thinks I'll like, to pick it up, but be sure to save the receipt.
My mom has taught me a good strategy for making gift-opening a bit more fun. Many times when she gives out presents, she'll have them wrapped in a box for a completely different product. I'll be getting her this time as I wrapped a 6-pack of socks that I bought her in the box for a digital camera, and it looks perfect, like it really is the camera that she's getting.
To give you an idea of what Christmas Eve is typically like for me, here is video from our 2005 celebration:
Monday, December 06, 2010
Entry From My Wife's Journal
Tom proposed on Saturday, November 15, 1997, at the Valley View Mall in LaCrosse, Wisconsin.
We ate lunch at the Olive Garden prior to him popping the big question. I ate angel hair pasta, warm freshly baked breadsticks, and white grape "love" juice (italian) delicioso! Tom ate, yes, you guessed right, pizza italiano, breadsticks, and white grape juice "the love juice!"
The engagement ring is beautiful. 1/4 carat mounted in a cathedral setting. Flawless, and I might add, very sparkly. I am a nurse and many of my patients, along with dear family and friends, have made endless comments about the ring's beauty.
(Editor's note: Tom actually proposed in the mall parking lot, having chicken-shitted out from doing it at the Garden).
We ate lunch at the Olive Garden prior to him popping the big question. I ate angel hair pasta, warm freshly baked breadsticks, and white grape "love" juice (italian) delicioso! Tom ate, yes, you guessed right, pizza italiano, breadsticks, and white grape juice "the love juice!"
The engagement ring is beautiful. 1/4 carat mounted in a cathedral setting. Flawless, and I might add, very sparkly. I am a nurse and many of my patients, along with dear family and friends, have made endless comments about the ring's beauty.
(Editor's note: Tom actually proposed in the mall parking lot, having chicken-shitted out from doing it at the Garden).
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Meandering Questions
My other half (I actually don't believe in an "other half"; I feel we are complete just as we are, though having another in which to share our completeness is a blessed thing) finally began reading my book last week.
The below pic is on the back cover with the caption:
"With my two favorite people, "--- ---- and Neale Donald Walsch"
I laid on the sofa with the TV turned down a bit as she sat on the recliner reading the 397-page tome. She had a number of interesting comments and questions to make as she plowed through the first 100 pages. Here are a few of the more notable ones:
"Do you know how to play Cribbage?"
"Now I know why you don't like to go swimming."
"I didn't know you were Catholic."
"You should change the part where it says 'colored teenager' to 'black teenager.'"
"What does 'quietude' mean?"
"Did your mom ever catch you masturbating? Did your brothers?"
"Now I know why you don't wear deodorant."
"Why don't you chew gum anymore?"
"Did you sneak into the study last Christmas to get a peek at the presents I bought you?"
"You didn't go to your high school graduation?"
"Why did you write that biking made you unable to father children?"
The below pic is on the back cover with the caption:
"With my two favorite people, "--- ---- and Neale Donald Walsch"
I laid on the sofa with the TV turned down a bit as she sat on the recliner reading the 397-page tome. She had a number of interesting comments and questions to make as she plowed through the first 100 pages. Here are a few of the more notable ones:
"Do you know how to play Cribbage?"
"Now I know why you don't like to go swimming."
"I didn't know you were Catholic."
"You should change the part where it says 'colored teenager' to 'black teenager.'"
"What does 'quietude' mean?"
"Did your mom ever catch you masturbating? Did your brothers?"
"Now I know why you don't wear deodorant."
"Why don't you chew gum anymore?"
"Did you sneak into the study last Christmas to get a peek at the presents I bought you?"
"You didn't go to your high school graduation?"
"Why did you write that biking made you unable to father children?"
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