I was hungry today after my hike and didn’t feel like cooking. The heat today was oppressive and the last thing I wanted to do was stand over a hot stove. At the end of my journey, I stopped by the little Asian restaurant that is nearby the Piggly Wiggly. I ordered chicken fried rice and a glass of tea. A little Korean lady came shuffling out of the back room to talk to me.
“Chicken smell funny,” She said waving her hand over her nose. “You like shrimp?”
“Uh, no thanks,” I said. “Just cancel my order.”
“Hot wing good,” She replied.
“No thanks ma’am,” I said.
Their air conditioning wasn’t on and it was blazing hot inside the restaurant. I didn’t want to take my chances with dodgy shrimp if the chicken was bad.
I walked on around the sidewalk of the shopping center to the Piggly Wiggly. I went inside and bought a large bottle of Gatorade and some cheese crackers. I sat down outside on the bench to have a rest and to drink and eat. It was just hellaciously hot outside and the heat cast mirages across the parking lot making it look as if it were a shimmering lake.
I looked down towards the dollar store and saw George’s car. I saw him wave for me to come over, but it was to hot to go sit out in the parking lot. George cranked up his car and slowly pulled up to where I was sitting.
“What’s up with you mutha fucka?” He said. “You ain’t speakin’ to ole George?”
“Nah, man. It is just too hot to be standing out in that parking lot,” I replied. “I wanted to stay in the shade.”
George got out of his car and came over to sit down beside me. George lit up a cigar and offered me one. I declined. He also reached into his pocket and pulled out a zip lock bag filled with white pills and handed me the bag.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Dat shit will fuck yo ass up,” George said. “I can’t take em’. Dey tear up my stomach.”
“What I meant was what kind of pills are they?” I asked again.
“OxyContin,” George replied.
OxyContin is a pain killer and one of the hottest prescription drugs out on the streets right now. It is a clean high and you don’t get a hang over. It is also VERY illegal to have them without a prescription. I quickly shoved the bag back into George’s hands.
“Dude, your ass will get in a lot of trouble over those damn things if you get caught,” I proclaimed quietly.
George took a few pills out and tried to give them to me.
“Go on. You can have them,” George said.
“George, I don’t want your damn pills,” I whispered harshly. “You would do yourself a favor by getting rid of those things fast.”
George just laughed.
“Dey just be some pills,” He said.
“Yeah, those little pills will get you a few years in the state pen as well,” I replied.
By this time, the person George was hauling around came out of the dollar store. George quickly got up and headed to his car.
“See ya, my brotha,” George said.
“George, get rid of those things,” I said. “If you get pulled over and searched you are fucked.”
George just laughed again and drove off down the parking lot to pick up his fare. I stood up and walked on home glad to be out of that situation. I have shitty luck and the probability of the police showing up as I was around those pills was very high. George sure can do some stupid shit sometimes and he wonders why he has been in jail so much over the years. He sees it as bad luck. I see it as stupid decisions and doing dumb shit like that will get you in trouble. Luckily, George doesn’t do stupid shit like this often other than drinking and driving.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Evening fall
As I sit here with my windows open, the last light of the day is left. As the sun sets, the cicadas begin a cacophony of calls in tandem. The crickets also emit a chorus that is music to my ears. I take all of this in with great joy and familiarity.
Soon, a transition will take place between the vocal insects of the day and the vocal insects of the night. As darkness descends, so will the katydids and their distinctive call. The cicadas will cease until the heat of tomorrow’s sun awakens and stirs them for another day. The katydids will take over and call in earnest until the wee hours of the morning.
Far off, the mournful wail of a freight train’s horn calls way off in the distance and adds to the orchestra of the evening. “Where are they going? What freight are they hauling?” I sometimes think.
Times such as these induce this intense wanderlust within me. I want to strike out and journey into things and lands unknown. I want to discover what special moments such as these I can discover and capture in my writings. The road ahead of me waits. Will I have the courage to step out and journey down that road? Not for tonight. Tonight, I shall sit on my front porch with my pipe in hand and dream about what could be. Maybe, if only I could have the courage to follow my dreams.
Soon, a transition will take place between the vocal insects of the day and the vocal insects of the night. As darkness descends, so will the katydids and their distinctive call. The cicadas will cease until the heat of tomorrow’s sun awakens and stirs them for another day. The katydids will take over and call in earnest until the wee hours of the morning.
Far off, the mournful wail of a freight train’s horn calls way off in the distance and adds to the orchestra of the evening. “Where are they going? What freight are they hauling?” I sometimes think.
Times such as these induce this intense wanderlust within me. I want to strike out and journey into things and lands unknown. I want to discover what special moments such as these I can discover and capture in my writings. The road ahead of me waits. Will I have the courage to step out and journey down that road? Not for tonight. Tonight, I shall sit on my front porch with my pipe in hand and dream about what could be. Maybe, if only I could have the courage to follow my dreams.
A Late Summer’s Hike
I went for a long hike this afternoon in the heat of the day. I wanted to see how I fared. Luckily, I had plenty of water with me as I needed it. I had also filled several empty two liter bottles of soda with water to add weight to my Kelty backpack to simulate a full load of gear and supplies.
It was a pleasant hike other than the heat and the storms I would later run into. I walked way out spring road into the country. I hiked out to the point the road turns to dirt and the pavement ends. I would say around four miles out.
On the way home, I stopped by a large pasture and sat in the tall grass next to the road under the shade of an oak tree. I pulled out a bottle of water and an energy bar and started to refuel for the journey home. Several cows came ambling over to the fence to see if I had anything to eat.
“Sorry girls,” I said. “I don’t think you all would like an energy bar.”
They were very tame and watched me intently. I walked over to the fence with a handful of clover I had pulled out of the ground. The tamest cow took the clover and started munching on it. I rubbed her great neck and behind her ears. There were gnats and flies flying all around her and she twitched the muscles under her skin and thrashed her tail trying desperately to dissuade her attackers.
By this time, I could start to hear the far off rumbles of thunder. I threw my backpack back on and started down the road at a good clip. It was a race for time as the thunder grew ever louder and the sky darkened. Soon the sun disappeared and the wind picked up greatly. It felt wonderful, but I was growing ever more concerned that I would get caught in a storm.
Finally, I had lost the race and was still several miles from home. On one side of the road was a sprawling pasture and the other side was a creek and a dense thicket of hardwood trees. I climbed over the fence, across the creek, and ran up into the woods just as it started to pour rain. I covered my backpack with its rain cover and put on my poncho as I sat down against a large oak. I would wince with every bright flash of lightning and subsequent crash of thunder. Lightning like that can be scary especially if you are sitting under a large tree right out in the middle of it with no shelter. I just crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
As is typical with these afternoon thunderstorms in the south, the rain soon stopped and the sun came back out. I was soaking wet despite having my poncho on. It had rained so hard that water had run down my face and neck inside my covering. I walked the rest of the way home kind of dejected as it is uncomfortable hiking in wet boots and socks. I managed to rub a few blisters on my toes. The first thing I did when I arrived home was to shed my wet clothes and footwear and take a long, hot shower. Man, did it feel good.
I love experiences like that. To me that is what hiking is all about. The adrenaline I feel in such experiences is so palpable and invigorating. Getting wet is just a mild inconvenience compared to the joy such encounters bring to me.
It was a pleasant hike other than the heat and the storms I would later run into. I walked way out spring road into the country. I hiked out to the point the road turns to dirt and the pavement ends. I would say around four miles out.
On the way home, I stopped by a large pasture and sat in the tall grass next to the road under the shade of an oak tree. I pulled out a bottle of water and an energy bar and started to refuel for the journey home. Several cows came ambling over to the fence to see if I had anything to eat.
“Sorry girls,” I said. “I don’t think you all would like an energy bar.”
They were very tame and watched me intently. I walked over to the fence with a handful of clover I had pulled out of the ground. The tamest cow took the clover and started munching on it. I rubbed her great neck and behind her ears. There were gnats and flies flying all around her and she twitched the muscles under her skin and thrashed her tail trying desperately to dissuade her attackers.
By this time, I could start to hear the far off rumbles of thunder. I threw my backpack back on and started down the road at a good clip. It was a race for time as the thunder grew ever louder and the sky darkened. Soon the sun disappeared and the wind picked up greatly. It felt wonderful, but I was growing ever more concerned that I would get caught in a storm.
Finally, I had lost the race and was still several miles from home. On one side of the road was a sprawling pasture and the other side was a creek and a dense thicket of hardwood trees. I climbed over the fence, across the creek, and ran up into the woods just as it started to pour rain. I covered my backpack with its rain cover and put on my poncho as I sat down against a large oak. I would wince with every bright flash of lightning and subsequent crash of thunder. Lightning like that can be scary especially if you are sitting under a large tree right out in the middle of it with no shelter. I just crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
As is typical with these afternoon thunderstorms in the south, the rain soon stopped and the sun came back out. I was soaking wet despite having my poncho on. It had rained so hard that water had run down my face and neck inside my covering. I walked the rest of the way home kind of dejected as it is uncomfortable hiking in wet boots and socks. I managed to rub a few blisters on my toes. The first thing I did when I arrived home was to shed my wet clothes and footwear and take a long, hot shower. Man, did it feel good.
I love experiences like that. To me that is what hiking is all about. The adrenaline I feel in such experiences is so palpable and invigorating. Getting wet is just a mild inconvenience compared to the joy such encounters bring to me.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Dinner and a Movie
Charlie asked me to take his autistic son Randal on his usual Saturday outing that includes a movie, the mall toy store, and dinner today. For some reason Sandra couldn’t do it and Charlie had a class reunion to attend. Charlie kept apologizing to me, but I assured him I didn’t mind. I was getting to see a movie and dinner for free but it did take six hours to complete everything.
Randal picked a movie called Hustle and Flow about a pimp who makes a demo tape and becomes a rap star. I went to the movie mainly just to keep an eye out on him as I didn’t have anything to do for two and half hours as I waited on him to come out from the theater. When I saw the MTV films logo an ominous feeling overcame me. The movie was not my cup of tea and it was an excruciating two and half hours but I endured. Luckily, the theater with this certain movie was almost devoid of patrons so things were quiet. It might have been because it was the afternoon matinee showing or that the target demographic just didn’t show up. When we departed our theater, the cinema was crawling with teenagers and college students all out for a Saturday night at the movies. They had waited for the night time showings to arrive en mass.
After the movie, I dropped him off at the mall. You have to drop him off at one end away from the toy store and he travels through the mall walking through almost every shop on the way. I just sat down on a chair near the toy store and waiting for Randal to make his appearance. After an hour, he did, and he bought one of those super soaker squirt guns.
“Horsefly, are you ready to go get something to eat?” I asked.
Randal hollered loudly that he was. There is no way to transcribe the way he talks. You can only understand him if you have been around him and known him for years.
I asked him if he wanted to go to the new chicken finger place or the old one. You have to be very specific as any deviation to his wishes can upset him and cause a temper tantrum that can get quite physical. He said he wanted to go to the new place in another town. I drove him there and we both sat and ate as he smiled and whispered to himself. He gets very excited around a large group of people and the restaurant was packed.
Afterwards, I drove the 45 minutes home and unlocked Charlie’s house and let him in. I made sure he had ample lights on in the house and that he got down to his little den where sits his television, lounge chair, toys, and shelves upon shelves of shaving cream.
“Well, horsefly, your dad and mom will be home in a few hours,” I said. “I am going to head on home.”
“We loves you!” He said loudly as he sat rocking in his chair and caressing his new squirt gun.
“I love you too,” I replied as I shut the door, locked up the house, and drove on home.
Randal picked a movie called Hustle and Flow about a pimp who makes a demo tape and becomes a rap star. I went to the movie mainly just to keep an eye out on him as I didn’t have anything to do for two and half hours as I waited on him to come out from the theater. When I saw the MTV films logo an ominous feeling overcame me. The movie was not my cup of tea and it was an excruciating two and half hours but I endured. Luckily, the theater with this certain movie was almost devoid of patrons so things were quiet. It might have been because it was the afternoon matinee showing or that the target demographic just didn’t show up. When we departed our theater, the cinema was crawling with teenagers and college students all out for a Saturday night at the movies. They had waited for the night time showings to arrive en mass.
After the movie, I dropped him off at the mall. You have to drop him off at one end away from the toy store and he travels through the mall walking through almost every shop on the way. I just sat down on a chair near the toy store and waiting for Randal to make his appearance. After an hour, he did, and he bought one of those super soaker squirt guns.
“Horsefly, are you ready to go get something to eat?” I asked.
Randal hollered loudly that he was. There is no way to transcribe the way he talks. You can only understand him if you have been around him and known him for years.
I asked him if he wanted to go to the new chicken finger place or the old one. You have to be very specific as any deviation to his wishes can upset him and cause a temper tantrum that can get quite physical. He said he wanted to go to the new place in another town. I drove him there and we both sat and ate as he smiled and whispered to himself. He gets very excited around a large group of people and the restaurant was packed.
Afterwards, I drove the 45 minutes home and unlocked Charlie’s house and let him in. I made sure he had ample lights on in the house and that he got down to his little den where sits his television, lounge chair, toys, and shelves upon shelves of shaving cream.
“Well, horsefly, your dad and mom will be home in a few hours,” I said. “I am going to head on home.”
“We loves you!” He said loudly as he sat rocking in his chair and caressing his new squirt gun.
“I love you too,” I replied as I shut the door, locked up the house, and drove on home.
Friday, August 12, 2005
Love under the Stars on a Country Night, Almost
“Take me out to the country and make love to me under the stars,” She said one night not long after we had gotten married. “I have always wanted to experience that.”
I was intrigued by this suggestion. My ears pricked up like a horse after hearing her say this. This was as close to camping as she would ever allow herself to become involved with.
“You sure?” I asked. “It is a long drive and there are animals out there. It might not be what you really want or expect.”
“Can we go tonight?” She pleaded.
I looked at the clock above our television and then out the window noticing the sun had began to set.
“To the country we shall go,” I replied.
I walked out to my truck and let the convertible top down. I also put a quilt on the back seat for us to lie upon. I walked back inside to see if she was ready to go.
“Honey, you ready?” I called out into the house.
She was in the bathroom putting on makeup.
“I am almost ready,” She said loudly with excitement beyond the closed door.
Soon, she stepped out of the bathroom and we both walked outside and climbed into my truck. It was a pleasant drive out into the country with the sounds of katydids and crickets calling all around us, and with the cool, night air blowing in our hair. We finally reached the pond my family owns and drove down the long dirt road to privacy. A full moon hung on the horizon and helped illuminate our dark surroundings. I got out of the truck and so did she. I unfolded the quilt and threw it upon the ground on the edge of the pond. We both lay down upon it and looked up at the stars that unfolded above us in the night sky.
“It is so beautiful out here,” She said as she lay on her back.
“You can’t see stars like that in the city,” I replied.
She leaned over and kissed me passionately and started to undress. The milky white luminescence of the full moon illuminated her skin. Her bare shoulders and breasts glowed in the moonlight.
“Make love to me,” She said as she pulled me closer to her.
Suddenly, a crash rang out in the woods nearby. The sound of abruptly broken limbs and twigs echoed out across the pond. My ex-wife froze in fear. I could feel her pulse and breathing rate go crazy in my arms.
“What was that?” She asked.
“Probably just deer,” I replied nonchalantly as I tried to resume our kissing and fondling session.
“No, wait,” She said. “Did you hear that as well?”
I sounded like something walking in the woods just a few hundred yards from us.
“Rachel, it is just deer,” I said. “Believe me. They are harmless.”
She quickly put on her bra and shirt and clamored for the safety of my truck; so much for making love under the stars. A few deer had completely ruined our amorous affair. It was a long drive home in silence as the mood had been spoilt.
I was intrigued by this suggestion. My ears pricked up like a horse after hearing her say this. This was as close to camping as she would ever allow herself to become involved with.
“You sure?” I asked. “It is a long drive and there are animals out there. It might not be what you really want or expect.”
“Can we go tonight?” She pleaded.
I looked at the clock above our television and then out the window noticing the sun had began to set.
“To the country we shall go,” I replied.
I walked out to my truck and let the convertible top down. I also put a quilt on the back seat for us to lie upon. I walked back inside to see if she was ready to go.
“Honey, you ready?” I called out into the house.
She was in the bathroom putting on makeup.
“I am almost ready,” She said loudly with excitement beyond the closed door.
Soon, she stepped out of the bathroom and we both walked outside and climbed into my truck. It was a pleasant drive out into the country with the sounds of katydids and crickets calling all around us, and with the cool, night air blowing in our hair. We finally reached the pond my family owns and drove down the long dirt road to privacy. A full moon hung on the horizon and helped illuminate our dark surroundings. I got out of the truck and so did she. I unfolded the quilt and threw it upon the ground on the edge of the pond. We both lay down upon it and looked up at the stars that unfolded above us in the night sky.
“It is so beautiful out here,” She said as she lay on her back.
“You can’t see stars like that in the city,” I replied.
She leaned over and kissed me passionately and started to undress. The milky white luminescence of the full moon illuminated her skin. Her bare shoulders and breasts glowed in the moonlight.
“Make love to me,” She said as she pulled me closer to her.
Suddenly, a crash rang out in the woods nearby. The sound of abruptly broken limbs and twigs echoed out across the pond. My ex-wife froze in fear. I could feel her pulse and breathing rate go crazy in my arms.
“What was that?” She asked.
“Probably just deer,” I replied nonchalantly as I tried to resume our kissing and fondling session.
“No, wait,” She said. “Did you hear that as well?”
I sounded like something walking in the woods just a few hundred yards from us.
“Rachel, it is just deer,” I said. “Believe me. They are harmless.”
She quickly put on her bra and shirt and clamored for the safety of my truck; so much for making love under the stars. A few deer had completely ruined our amorous affair. It was a long drive home in silence as the mood had been spoilt.
Basic Training
Sorry posts are coming so late in the evening these days. I haven’t had much time to spend sitting in front of the computer this week and have been busier than a cat in a litter box. I also haven’t had much to write about either.
I have been in “basic training” all week for my upcoming hike this September. I rode my bike over 15 miles today early this morning before the sun got high in the sky and heated up the air. I have also completely changed my diet and cut out all sodas. I have even gone so far as to stop smoking cigarettes. I only occasionally smoke my pipe during the day. I already feel more energetic and fitful after just a week of these sudden changes. I am deadly serious about this hiking stuff and want the Pinhoti trail under my belt before the leaves begin to change and the first frost arrives.
Before I obtained my new car, I walked or rode my bike everywhere. I have found since I have a decent car that it makes me lazy and I am more apt to jump in it to travel across town or to my father’s store. This week I have tried to change that mentality and to rely more on my bike or my feet for transportation. It sometimes takes careful planning and arranging my journeys so they are either in the early morning or early evening to avoid the heat of the midday. I forgot how enjoyable it could be though. As you walk or ride a bike, you are more likely to notice nature, your surroundings, and what is going on around you. Familiar landmarks take on a different meaning as they become goals to accomplish.
I have also found that there is a stigma to walking or riding your bike everywhere here where I live. You seem to be considered poor or disenfranchised. There is this definite “cult of the car” that is pervasive in the society that inhabits my local town.
I have been in “basic training” all week for my upcoming hike this September. I rode my bike over 15 miles today early this morning before the sun got high in the sky and heated up the air. I have also completely changed my diet and cut out all sodas. I have even gone so far as to stop smoking cigarettes. I only occasionally smoke my pipe during the day. I already feel more energetic and fitful after just a week of these sudden changes. I am deadly serious about this hiking stuff and want the Pinhoti trail under my belt before the leaves begin to change and the first frost arrives.
Before I obtained my new car, I walked or rode my bike everywhere. I have found since I have a decent car that it makes me lazy and I am more apt to jump in it to travel across town or to my father’s store. This week I have tried to change that mentality and to rely more on my bike or my feet for transportation. It sometimes takes careful planning and arranging my journeys so they are either in the early morning or early evening to avoid the heat of the midday. I forgot how enjoyable it could be though. As you walk or ride a bike, you are more likely to notice nature, your surroundings, and what is going on around you. Familiar landmarks take on a different meaning as they become goals to accomplish.
I have also found that there is a stigma to walking or riding your bike everywhere here where I live. You seem to be considered poor or disenfranchised. There is this definite “cult of the car” that is pervasive in the society that inhabits my local town.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
The Well is Dry at the Moment
Every time I sit down to write and begin it just seems forced and unnatural. I write a few paragraphs and delete it in frustration. I had many things happen today but I can’t quite get up the creative flair to write about them. I fear my well of writing is dry at the moment. Have any of you experienced this?
Normally, I sit down at the computer and words just flow out from my mind and onto the screen. Blogging is an effortless affair that takes little thought other than guiding my fingers across the keyboard. Within moments, I have a blog post and publish it. That just doesn’t seem to be the case the past few days and has resulted in horribly uninspired writing. Hopefully, tomorrow will be different on these regards.
Normally, I sit down at the computer and words just flow out from my mind and onto the screen. Blogging is an effortless affair that takes little thought other than guiding my fingers across the keyboard. Within moments, I have a blog post and publish it. That just doesn’t seem to be the case the past few days and has resulted in horribly uninspired writing. Hopefully, tomorrow will be different on these regards.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
The Vampire Rises from His Coffin
I stayed up all last night unable to sleep and slept for most of the day. This is very unusual for me to do lately. It has also rained heavily and stormed for most of the afternoon and that only compounded the situation. The heavy rainfall and the comforting sound of thunder made me more the drowsier. What finally woke me up was an especially violent storm late this evening that spurred me to go unplug everything of value so it wouldn’t get hit by lightning. Every television Uncle Bob owns got hit by lightning last week so the thoughts about that are fresh on my mind.
I grow more excited about hiking the Pinhoti trail everyday the more I think about it. I even dreamed about it during my slumber today. The logistics of it are overwhelming though. I am not sure how long it will take me to hike 100 miles of unfamiliar territory. I am not one of those hikers that get in a hurry. I like to take my time and take in the surroundings. Things are worrying me such as will I be able to find enough water? Will there be places to re-supply my food stocks? How am I going to handle my bi-monthly injection? How is my family going to react to me being in the wilderness on my own and for several weeks? I am hoping my psychiatrist will agree to give me a temporary prescription for risperdal in a pill/oral form for the trip.
I did manage to get the topographical maps ordered. They should arrive late this week or early next week. That will allow me to plan in more detail were water is along the trail and where access to roads and towns are for re-supply.
I grow more excited about hiking the Pinhoti trail everyday the more I think about it. I even dreamed about it during my slumber today. The logistics of it are overwhelming though. I am not sure how long it will take me to hike 100 miles of unfamiliar territory. I am not one of those hikers that get in a hurry. I like to take my time and take in the surroundings. Things are worrying me such as will I be able to find enough water? Will there be places to re-supply my food stocks? How am I going to handle my bi-monthly injection? How is my family going to react to me being in the wilderness on my own and for several weeks? I am hoping my psychiatrist will agree to give me a temporary prescription for risperdal in a pill/oral form for the trip.
I did manage to get the topographical maps ordered. They should arrive late this week or early next week. That will allow me to plan in more detail were water is along the trail and where access to roads and towns are for re-supply.
Sleepless in the Valley
I awoke at 2 AM and couldn’t go back to sleep. It didn’t help that I went to bed at 8 PM in the evening. I was just exhausted after a busy day. I got on up, turned off my short wave radio, and put some clothes on. I enjoy the solitude of the night and the cool air. It gets so hot around here during the daytime. I am considering becoming nocturnal and sleeping in the day until fall arrives.
When I was a long haul truck driver, I preferred driving during the night. Most truck drivers and normal drivers were diurnal and that meant that the traffic was light after midnight and I had ample places to park to get some sleep when morning rolled around as everyone was back on the road. Sometimes, I miss those late nights, behind the wheel, and with talk radio playing in the background as I traveled down the road headed for places afar. Those moments always made me ponder and think deeply.
I did manage to get my father’s wiring sorted today. It took hours and he paid me well. Watching my father work all morning instilled a sense of awe in me. He has to work so hard to keep up his business. He has numerous employees and they all turn to him for what to do. On top of that, he is constantly answering the phone and having to fill prescriptions correctly without error. It made me admire him. I just couldn’t do what he does and stay sane. It also made me wonder if this incredibly stressful job has a lot to do with his heart problems recently and his bypass surgery.
Well, I have a casserole dish of homemade macaroni and cheese in the oven and it is almost done. It smells heavenly as I write this. I know that must sound odd that I am cooking such things at 3 AM in the morning, but I was just starving and needed some comfort food. As soon as the timer goes off, I am going to dish me up a bowl, pour a glass of tea, and sit down and enjoy a treat I haven’t had in awhile. Oh, and by the time you read this, good morning to you to! :-)
When I was a long haul truck driver, I preferred driving during the night. Most truck drivers and normal drivers were diurnal and that meant that the traffic was light after midnight and I had ample places to park to get some sleep when morning rolled around as everyone was back on the road. Sometimes, I miss those late nights, behind the wheel, and with talk radio playing in the background as I traveled down the road headed for places afar. Those moments always made me ponder and think deeply.
I did manage to get my father’s wiring sorted today. It took hours and he paid me well. Watching my father work all morning instilled a sense of awe in me. He has to work so hard to keep up his business. He has numerous employees and they all turn to him for what to do. On top of that, he is constantly answering the phone and having to fill prescriptions correctly without error. It made me admire him. I just couldn’t do what he does and stay sane. It also made me wonder if this incredibly stressful job has a lot to do with his heart problems recently and his bypass surgery.
Well, I have a casserole dish of homemade macaroni and cheese in the oven and it is almost done. It smells heavenly as I write this. I know that must sound odd that I am cooking such things at 3 AM in the morning, but I was just starving and needed some comfort food. As soon as the timer goes off, I am going to dish me up a bowl, pour a glass of tea, and sit down and enjoy a treat I haven’t had in awhile. Oh, and by the time you read this, good morning to you to! :-)
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Computers and a Possible Hiking Adventure
I have a long day ahead of me today so will not be online much. I have to organize all the computer and network wiring down at my father’s store and it is extensive. He called me and asked me last night if I could come down today. He is worried that it is a fire hazard after one of his surge protectors starting smoking yesterday. It is a bird’s nest of a wiring mess and may take many hours getting it all sorted out.
On a good note, I came into a considerable sum of cash yesterday. A check I have been anticipating from the state for months finally arrived. It was from an old 2001 tax refund that somehow never got sent to me. I think I am going to use the money to hike the 100 mile Pinhoti Trail this fall when the weather cools down. Pinhoti is an old Indian word that means “turkey home”. The trail runs through Alabama’s Talladega National Forest.
My first step will be to order detailed topographical maps of the trail off of the internet today. I have read online that the trail can be ambiguous and is not near as well marked or traveled as the Appalachian Trail so maps are a must
On a good note, I came into a considerable sum of cash yesterday. A check I have been anticipating from the state for months finally arrived. It was from an old 2001 tax refund that somehow never got sent to me. I think I am going to use the money to hike the 100 mile Pinhoti Trail this fall when the weather cools down. Pinhoti is an old Indian word that means “turkey home”. The trail runs through Alabama’s Talladega National Forest.
My first step will be to order detailed topographical maps of the trail off of the internet today. I have read online that the trail can be ambiguous and is not near as well marked or traveled as the Appalachian Trail so maps are a must
Monday, August 08, 2005
Grumpy Lives Up To His Namesake
I had one of those grumpy old men, “you kids, get off my lawn!” moments this morning and was feeling ostentatious. A young African American male is courting my next door neighbor’s daughter recently. Apparently, he is picking her up and taking her to work. The past few mornings have entailed a harrowing experience of what I call “sprinkler music” that is dispersed with an occasional booming bass note that literally shakes the very foundation of my home. I call it “sprinkler music” due to the fact that the continually repeating treble tone sounds like an old fashioned lawn sprinkler going off.
I realize that this music, for most males of this persuasion, is akin to a male peacock strutting around the farm yard and displaying his elaborate feathers to entice potential mates. I just wish they had a quieter way of getting a piece of ass. I could literally see concentric circles form in the center of the coffee in my mug this morning and radiate out to the edge due to the vibrations.
I walked outside after putting on some clothes and stepped across the street to his car with my coffee mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The music continued to blare loudly. I managed to make it to his car without him noticing and knocked furiously on his passenger’s side window after putting the cigarette in my mouth. The music fell abruptly silent and he rolled down the passenger’s side window.
“Dude, do you think you could tone it down for a bit and turn it down?” I asked. “The shit you are playing loudly has been driving me crazy every morning for the past few days.”
“Shit dawg, I didn’t mean to be dissin’ you.” He said.
(dissin’ or dissing = disrespecting)
“No problem, man,” I said. “It doesn’t bother me at night, but seven fucking ‘o’ clock in the morning is a bit early, don’t you think?”
He was just a teenager so I couldn’t be too harsh. I did some incredibly stupid shit during my teen years so I understood. I just wanted to drink my morning coffee without trying to read the signs in the concentric circles that were being vibrated into it.
I realize that this music, for most males of this persuasion, is akin to a male peacock strutting around the farm yard and displaying his elaborate feathers to entice potential mates. I just wish they had a quieter way of getting a piece of ass. I could literally see concentric circles form in the center of the coffee in my mug this morning and radiate out to the edge due to the vibrations.
I walked outside after putting on some clothes and stepped across the street to his car with my coffee mug in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The music continued to blare loudly. I managed to make it to his car without him noticing and knocked furiously on his passenger’s side window after putting the cigarette in my mouth. The music fell abruptly silent and he rolled down the passenger’s side window.
“Dude, do you think you could tone it down for a bit and turn it down?” I asked. “The shit you are playing loudly has been driving me crazy every morning for the past few days.”
“Shit dawg, I didn’t mean to be dissin’ you.” He said.
(dissin’ or dissing = disrespecting)
“No problem, man,” I said. “It doesn’t bother me at night, but seven fucking ‘o’ clock in the morning is a bit early, don’t you think?”
He was just a teenager so I couldn’t be too harsh. I did some incredibly stupid shit during my teen years so I understood. I just wanted to drink my morning coffee without trying to read the signs in the concentric circles that were being vibrated into it.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
What You Can’t Say
I reread my post on homelessness a moment ago and kind of cringed over what I wrote. I was mainly just trying to proofread as I reread it. I am by no means an authority on homelessness and hope it didn’t come across that way. I was just homeless once and for a few months, but I still have opinions on the matter and feel strongly about it. That’s why I tried to stick really hard to why I became homeless, but the glaring fact of the lack of family support is telling so I had to add that.
One good thing about having a lesser read blog is that you can get away with indiscretions like today more easily. Hell, I am only getting around ten hits a day lately and these people are folks I consider friends and blogging confidants. (Thank you, blogging friends and confidants.) I sometimes have the urge to want to increase the traffic to my blog for egoistic reasons, thus my failed experiment with blog explosion, but I realize what I have now is a happy medium.
Anyways, I just found and read this following essay not long after I wrote my post on homelessness and thought it was interesting and wanted to share it. The following quote from the essay sums up my experiences, thus far, by blogging anonymously on this new blog with only a few people reading. It made me feel better about my little rant this afternoon and it was an interesting read to boot.
It is a lengthy read but if you want to read the whole essay titled “What You Can’t Say” then click on the link below. (Pops in a new window.)
One good thing about having a lesser read blog is that you can get away with indiscretions like today more easily. Hell, I am only getting around ten hits a day lately and these people are folks I consider friends and blogging confidants. (Thank you, blogging friends and confidants.) I sometimes have the urge to want to increase the traffic to my blog for egoistic reasons, thus my failed experiment with blog explosion, but I realize what I have now is a happy medium.
Anyways, I just found and read this following essay not long after I wrote my post on homelessness and thought it was interesting and wanted to share it. The following quote from the essay sums up my experiences, thus far, by blogging anonymously on this new blog with only a few people reading. It made me feel better about my little rant this afternoon and it was an interesting read to boot.
The trouble with keeping your thoughts secret, though, is that you lose the advantages of discussion. Talking about an idea leads to more ideas. So the optimal plan, if you can manage it, is to have a few trusted friends you can speak openly to. This is not just a way to develop ideas; it's also a good rule of thumb for choosing friends. The people you can say heretical things to without getting jumped on are also the most interesting to know.
It is a lengthy read but if you want to read the whole essay titled “What You Can’t Say” then click on the link below. (Pops in a new window.)
Solving Homelessness
I was reading “The Homeless Guy” this morning out of boredom. No one updates their blogs early Sunday morning. He had written a post where he claimed to know the causes of homelessness and he tends to try and speak for all homeless and formerly homeless people. I started to write a long comment but realized it wouldn’t be worth my time and would fall on deaf ears.
Sometimes, it is hard to capture the point he is trying to make, but I think he was trying to say that severe emotional trauma causes homelessness. I had posted a comment and link to a major research study a few weeks ago that stated that the lack of family support is a major contributor and almost universal factor leading to homelessness. He basically just stated, “But you have to ask why.” His reply was kind of pedantic.
The majority of us experience severe emotional traumas during our lifetimes but very few of us become homeless. A dearly beloved family member dies, you lose your job of twenty years, your mate that you adored has an affair, you experience a devastating divorce, are just but a few examples. All of us have experienced something similar but it didn’t make us leave behind everything to go sleep in a card board box downtown in complete squalor.
I would never intend to speak for all homeless people, but I do know what caused my own homelessness and, in my case, it was simple. The lack of family support was a major cause in my becoming homeless and it was partially of my own making. It was also family support that got me out of the woods. Here is what caused me to become homeless:
A) I have a mental illness that is socially alienating and devastating and I wouldn’t take my medications. This caused my then wife and family to become estranged from me and to be afraid of me.
B) I was also drinking heavily at the time and this just compounded the above problem. I couldn’t stay sober for longer than a day. No one could trust me and rely on me to be responsible. I was attempting to self medicate myself through copious amounts of alcohol. Alcohol was the only substance that made me feel “good” and I was miserable at that time.
I personally think that there will never be a cure-all, one stop solution to homelessness. Every case is so distinctly different and requires personalized care. This personalized care is almost impossible to implement with such a big bureaucracy like our current government. One thing I do know that out of all the homeless blogs I have read, the authors are all estranged from their immediate families; every one of them. That has to say something profound.
I have also found that keeping a home and keeping good relations with my family to be much harder work than being homeless and isolated. I am socially and ideologically
Sometimes, it is hard to capture the point he is trying to make, but I think he was trying to say that severe emotional trauma causes homelessness. I had posted a comment and link to a major research study a few weeks ago that stated that the lack of family support is a major contributor and almost universal factor leading to homelessness. He basically just stated, “But you have to ask why.” His reply was kind of pedantic.
The majority of us experience severe emotional traumas during our lifetimes but very few of us become homeless. A dearly beloved family member dies, you lose your job of twenty years, your mate that you adored has an affair, you experience a devastating divorce, are just but a few examples. All of us have experienced something similar but it didn’t make us leave behind everything to go sleep in a card board box downtown in complete squalor.
I would never intend to speak for all homeless people, but I do know what caused my own homelessness and, in my case, it was simple. The lack of family support was a major cause in my becoming homeless and it was partially of my own making. It was also family support that got me out of the woods. Here is what caused me to become homeless:
A) I have a mental illness that is socially alienating and devastating and I wouldn’t take my medications. This caused my then wife and family to become estranged from me and to be afraid of me.
B) I was also drinking heavily at the time and this just compounded the above problem. I couldn’t stay sober for longer than a day. No one could trust me and rely on me to be responsible. I was attempting to self medicate myself through copious amounts of alcohol. Alcohol was the only substance that made me feel “good” and I was miserable at that time.
I personally think that there will never be a cure-all, one stop solution to homelessness. Every case is so distinctly different and requires personalized care. This personalized care is almost impossible to implement with such a big bureaucracy like our current government. One thing I do know that out of all the homeless blogs I have read, the authors are all estranged from their immediate families; every one of them. That has to say something profound.
I have also found that keeping a home and keeping good relations with my family to be much harder work than being homeless and isolated. I am socially and ideologically
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Riverside
I decided to go fishing today. It was the perfect weather for fishing with overcast skies and temperatures in the lower eighties. I gathered up all my gear in my backpack and a five gallon bucket and walked down to the river to my favorite spot. My fishing license has expired and I just knew if I went up to the lake, a fish and wildlife officer would want to see my license. The secluded spot down at the river is back in the woods across the railroad tracks and the chance of coming across an officer is very slim.
It took me about 45 minutes to walk down there. I noticed the trail was well worn as I walked it. As I walked up through the woods to my spot, I was disappointed to find three elderly black men already there. I was looking forward to a quiet and peaceful afternoon spent fishing alone. I decided to try my luck anyway.
“You fellas mind if I fish here as well?” I asked.
“Ah naw, sit on down and throw out your line,” One fellow said.
All three men had been drinking heavily and the odor of alcohol emanated from them.
I put a night crawler on my hook and lowered it into the water and immediately got a bite. I yanked my pole back up and the bream slipped off the hook taking my bait with him. I repeated the process and within minutes I had a nice size bream in my bucket.
“Maybe we need to be fishin’ with worms,” A fellow said. “We are fishin’ for catfish and ain’t got a bite in over an hour.”
“What are you fishing with?” I asked.
“Chicken livers,” He said as he held up the container.
I hadn’t been fishing down here in months and was dismayed by the amount of trash lying around. Apparently, this secluded spot has become well known and popular with the locals. I saw liquor bottles and beer cans scattered everywhere all around me. It made me sad to see such a sight, as this used to be a great and clean place to come fishing.
Over the next few hours, I managed to catch three more good sized bream. Satisfied with today’s results, I packed up my gear and bid the gentlemen a good afternoon. I headed on home to start the unpleasant task of cleaning four fish and getting them put up in the freezer.
It took me about 45 minutes to walk down there. I noticed the trail was well worn as I walked it. As I walked up through the woods to my spot, I was disappointed to find three elderly black men already there. I was looking forward to a quiet and peaceful afternoon spent fishing alone. I decided to try my luck anyway.
“You fellas mind if I fish here as well?” I asked.
“Ah naw, sit on down and throw out your line,” One fellow said.
All three men had been drinking heavily and the odor of alcohol emanated from them.
I put a night crawler on my hook and lowered it into the water and immediately got a bite. I yanked my pole back up and the bream slipped off the hook taking my bait with him. I repeated the process and within minutes I had a nice size bream in my bucket.
“Maybe we need to be fishin’ with worms,” A fellow said. “We are fishin’ for catfish and ain’t got a bite in over an hour.”
“What are you fishing with?” I asked.
“Chicken livers,” He said as he held up the container.
I hadn’t been fishing down here in months and was dismayed by the amount of trash lying around. Apparently, this secluded spot has become well known and popular with the locals. I saw liquor bottles and beer cans scattered everywhere all around me. It made me sad to see such a sight, as this used to be a great and clean place to come fishing.
Over the next few hours, I managed to catch three more good sized bream. Satisfied with today’s results, I packed up my gear and bid the gentlemen a good afternoon. I headed on home to start the unpleasant task of cleaning four fish and getting them put up in the freezer.
Three catfish for me.......
My fishing went okay yesterday. I kept trying to fish for bream and the little small fingerling fish kept taking my bait. I would curse loudly as I brought up the line devoid of any bait and with a lack of fish. My floater was constantly bobbing up and down in the water as if I had something and it was frustrating. I finally took off the floater and just let the hook and bait sink to the bottom. I ended up catching three good sized catfish.
Cleaning catfish is a chore though. You don't clean them like other fish such as bream or bass. You have to make an incision behind the head and literally peal the skin off with a pair of pliers. Getting the hook out is another story as well as they always tend to swallow it. I know it sounds gross. Sorry! They are in the freezer now for a future fish fry.
I have a new visitor every morning now. A neighbor's cat comes by like clockwork every morning just after 7 AM and we socialize. She got a little plate of tuna this morning. I know I am spoiling her but it is nice to have a cat back in my life. She is sitting atop the desk bathing as I write this. Soon she goes about doing whatever a cat does all day and I will not see her till tomorrow morning.
My ex-wife brought her thirty page thesis for me to proof read yesterday as well. I have the chore of reading through thirty pages of not so interesting material today and tomorrow. I shouldn’t say that as I have read none of it as of yet. I may prove interesting as southern writers usually intrigue me. It is titled, “The Influence of Columbus, Georgia on the Life and Works of Carson McCullers.”
I also have to help her put together a power point presentation and that will be fun. I always enjoyed doing that for the Professors when I worked at the University.
Well, I need to grab a shower and get ready for physical therapy. I dread this so as it has hurt so badly lately. I want to call and cancel and just play hooky. I get tired of the pain and the seemingly slow gains.
Cleaning catfish is a chore though. You don't clean them like other fish such as bream or bass. You have to make an incision behind the head and literally peal the skin off with a pair of pliers. Getting the hook out is another story as well as they always tend to swallow it. I know it sounds gross. Sorry! They are in the freezer now for a future fish fry.
I have a new visitor every morning now. A neighbor's cat comes by like clockwork every morning just after 7 AM and we socialize. She got a little plate of tuna this morning. I know I am spoiling her but it is nice to have a cat back in my life. She is sitting atop the desk bathing as I write this. Soon she goes about doing whatever a cat does all day and I will not see her till tomorrow morning.
My ex-wife brought her thirty page thesis for me to proof read yesterday as well. I have the chore of reading through thirty pages of not so interesting material today and tomorrow. I shouldn’t say that as I have read none of it as of yet. I may prove interesting as southern writers usually intrigue me. It is titled, “The Influence of Columbus, Georgia on the Life and Works of Carson McCullers.”
I also have to help her put together a power point presentation and that will be fun. I always enjoyed doing that for the Professors when I worked at the University.
Well, I need to grab a shower and get ready for physical therapy. I dread this so as it has hurt so badly lately. I want to call and cancel and just play hooky. I get tired of the pain and the seemingly slow gains.
Friday, August 05, 2005
Ferret Comes Home
As I had written earlier, I wanted a pot roast for supper. I walked down to the Pig to buy one. Today, the flea market down from the Pig was bustling with activity. Apparently, they have run off Church Lady from sitting in front of the exit of the grocery store as today she was sitting at a table way down from it near the flea market. It kind of makes a good fit as the people who run the flea market are country bumpkins and Church Lady is one as well. I walked by her table and she called out to me.
“God bless you sir!” She said. “Care to give some of your good fortune to the Lord?”
She handed me this little pamphlet about how the end times were near and unbelievers would perish in the flames of hell if they didn’t repent and give their lives to Christ. I leaned forward over her table so she could hear me whisper.
“I know you are full of shit,” I said. “Monte saw you buying cigarettes and beer a few weeks ago so don’t bother me again.”
“Now, don’t be talkin’ to a servant of the Lord in that way!” She said loudly and was visibly shaken.
“Those were for a friend of mine,” She leaned forward and whispered back.
“What kind of servant of the Lord buys cigarettes and beer for a friend?” I asked. “Isn’t that a sin?”
She looked all around her nervously to survey if anyone had overheard our exchange.
“I won’t say a word if you just never bother me again,” I replied.
“I won’t bother you again so just go away,” She said relenting.
She couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.
I walked on up to finish my shopping. As I exited the store, I saw Slop and asked him if he had seen George. Slop said no and I was disappointed in that I was looking forward to talking to him.
“I did see someone and you will never be guessin’ who it be,” Slop said.
“Who?” I asked inquisitively.
“Give me a dolla and I will tells you,” Slop said.
“Slop, I thought you said you would never ask me for a buck again,” I replied.
“I just be kidin’ with ya,” Slop said. “Ferret was around dis mornin’.”
“Where has Ferret been?” I asked.
“He said he been workin’ up in Atlanta but lost his job and came back here to stay with his moms for awhile,” Slop said.
“Well, tell Ferret I said hello if you see him again,” I replied.
“I sho will,” Slop said.
Well, that was interesting. I haven’t seen Ferret for months now and he can be some interesting writing material. Maybe, in the next few days I will catch up with him and found out what he has been up too. Ferret is probably the most nervous guy you will ever meet. Throw George in the mix and it makes for a very interesting Piggly Wiggly groupie encounter.
“God bless you sir!” She said. “Care to give some of your good fortune to the Lord?”
She handed me this little pamphlet about how the end times were near and unbelievers would perish in the flames of hell if they didn’t repent and give their lives to Christ. I leaned forward over her table so she could hear me whisper.
“I know you are full of shit,” I said. “Monte saw you buying cigarettes and beer a few weeks ago so don’t bother me again.”
“Now, don’t be talkin’ to a servant of the Lord in that way!” She said loudly and was visibly shaken.
“Those were for a friend of mine,” She leaned forward and whispered back.
“What kind of servant of the Lord buys cigarettes and beer for a friend?” I asked. “Isn’t that a sin?”
She looked all around her nervously to survey if anyone had overheard our exchange.
“I won’t say a word if you just never bother me again,” I replied.
“I won’t bother you again so just go away,” She said relenting.
She couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.
I walked on up to finish my shopping. As I exited the store, I saw Slop and asked him if he had seen George. Slop said no and I was disappointed in that I was looking forward to talking to him.
“I did see someone and you will never be guessin’ who it be,” Slop said.
“Who?” I asked inquisitively.
“Give me a dolla and I will tells you,” Slop said.
“Slop, I thought you said you would never ask me for a buck again,” I replied.
“I just be kidin’ with ya,” Slop said. “Ferret was around dis mornin’.”
“Where has Ferret been?” I asked.
“He said he been workin’ up in Atlanta but lost his job and came back here to stay with his moms for awhile,” Slop said.
“Well, tell Ferret I said hello if you see him again,” I replied.
“I sho will,” Slop said.
Well, that was interesting. I haven’t seen Ferret for months now and he can be some interesting writing material. Maybe, in the next few days I will catch up with him and found out what he has been up too. Ferret is probably the most nervous guy you will ever meet. Throw George in the mix and it makes for a very interesting Piggly Wiggly groupie encounter.
The Brighter Side of Yesterday
I feel much better today and much more upbeat. As they say, “Shit happens!” so you just have to go with the flow. I have much to do today and must get busy after being neglectful the past two days. I normally keep my apartment very clean but it has devolved into a state of disarray over the past few days. Laundry, dishes, and other things wait to be taken care of. I also have the urge to cook a pot roast in my crock pot. That means I have to walk down to the Piggly Wiggly to do some shopping. That will fill my belly and also get me up something to write about most likely.
I miss it when I don’t feel up to writing and posting it into my blog. My blog feels like this neglected step child that is languishing in cyber space. I greatly enjoy formulating and writing about my experiences. Often, as I interact with others, I try to pay close attention to what is going on. I try to catch those little nuances that make a situation interesting to read about. I read where other people grow to feel as if their blog becomes a chore and a second job. Most of the time, it is something that I take great satisfaction out of and I never feel that way. Let’s hope that continues because if it ever becomes a job or chore then I would find other things to do.
Well, let me get busy. I have much to do. I also need to update my radio station blog to give me something interesting to listen to tonight as I settle down and catch up on the blogs I like to read and have ignored for several days. Good day!
I miss it when I don’t feel up to writing and posting it into my blog. My blog feels like this neglected step child that is languishing in cyber space. I greatly enjoy formulating and writing about my experiences. Often, as I interact with others, I try to pay close attention to what is going on. I try to catch those little nuances that make a situation interesting to read about. I read where other people grow to feel as if their blog becomes a chore and a second job. Most of the time, it is something that I take great satisfaction out of and I never feel that way. Let’s hope that continues because if it ever becomes a job or chore then I would find other things to do.
Well, let me get busy. I have much to do. I also need to update my radio station blog to give me something interesting to listen to tonight as I settle down and catch up on the blogs I like to read and have ignored for several days. Good day!
Over the Hump
I already feel much better this morning. I think a lot of it is psychological as I now know my medication is back up to therapeutic levels. My shot this morning was uneventful and painless and for that I am grateful.
I did manage to take my mother out to eat last night. She was just starving and wanted to go. I was experiencing severe paranoia though and I thought everyone in the restaurant was watching me and laughing at me. I tried to block it out and told myself that it wasn’t real but that is so hard to do when you are not feeling well.
I miss writing when my blog falls silent. I enjoy taking an experience or conversation and putting it down for others to read in an organized fashion. I often find myself thinking of how to write about a certain situation as it happens. I try to capture, in my mind, the little nuances that make things interesting and that paint a vivid picture for those who stop by and read.
I did write a long, rambling story last night about my experiences going out to eat and about my return home only to be harangued by my Great Uncle about a task he wanted me to perform. I am probably going to post that after this. If you are not up to reading something that is very lengthy then by all means skip the next post.
As far as Bob is concerned, keep in mind that I was not feeling well at all last night and was kind of abrupt with him. I wasn’t mean or nasty but I wanted to be left alone and didn’t need anything thrust upon me. What he wanted me to do was not pressing and he had a replacement television. I am going to go over in just a bit and help him out and take those televisions down to the repair shop as I feel up to it now. Anyways, below is the long, rambling post I wrote last night just before retiring to bed.
I did manage to take my mother out to eat last night. She was just starving and wanted to go. I was experiencing severe paranoia though and I thought everyone in the restaurant was watching me and laughing at me. I tried to block it out and told myself that it wasn’t real but that is so hard to do when you are not feeling well.
I miss writing when my blog falls silent. I enjoy taking an experience or conversation and putting it down for others to read in an organized fashion. I often find myself thinking of how to write about a certain situation as it happens. I try to capture, in my mind, the little nuances that make things interesting and that paint a vivid picture for those who stop by and read.
I did write a long, rambling story last night about my experiences going out to eat and about my return home only to be harangued by my Great Uncle about a task he wanted me to perform. I am probably going to post that after this. If you are not up to reading something that is very lengthy then by all means skip the next post.
As far as Bob is concerned, keep in mind that I was not feeling well at all last night and was kind of abrupt with him. I wasn’t mean or nasty but I wanted to be left alone and didn’t need anything thrust upon me. What he wanted me to do was not pressing and he had a replacement television. I am going to go over in just a bit and help him out and take those televisions down to the repair shop as I feel up to it now. Anyways, below is the long, rambling post I wrote last night just before retiring to bed.
Dinner for Two and a TV Too
I was not feeling up to much tonight but lots happened. Thursday is the night I and my mother go out to eat every week. I just couldn’t disappoint her. She hadn’t eaten all day in preparation for our night out. I called her and told her I would pick her up in a few moments. I drove over and knocked on the back door of my parent’s house. She shuffled to the door in her nightgown. Apparently, she had fallen back to sleep after my call.
“Do you still want to go get something to eat?” I asked.
“I am just starving,” She said. “Let me put on some clothes and we will go.”
I was kind of hoping she would say no and would go back to bed. She went into her bedroom for a few moments, got dressed, and came back out looking disheveled.
“Mom, brush your hair and put on a little makeup,” I said.
“I don’t really have it together tonight,” She said after a light hearted laugh. “I just woke up.”
“Here, let me help you,” I replied.
I walked her into her bathroom and tried to help her fix her hair with a hair brush. She half-heartedly put on some lipstick and other makeup.
“Are you sure you want to go out to eat?” I asked. “It seems me and you don’t have it together tonight.”
“Let’s go down to the barbeque place and get a plate.” She replied. “I also need to go by your father’s store and get some birthday cards for your cousins.”
We walked outside, down to the car, and got in. Soon, we were on our way down through the valley to get something to eat.
“What are you getting?” My mother asked as we stood at the counter in the restaurant.
“A smoked chicken plate,” I said.
The lady at the counter took my order and my mother told her to get her the same thing as well. We sat down to eat but I didn’t have any kind of appetite. I was experiencing severe paranoia and thought everyone in the restaurant was watching me and laughing at me.
“Are you okay?” My mother asked as she held out her hand to hold mine.
This jolted me back into reality. I had been staring off into space.
“Yeah, I just don’t feel good,” I replied. “I have a headache and am not that hungry.”
My mother ate all that was on her plate. I only ate a few bites. I got a to-go box and took the rest home with me. We now had to drive down to my father’s pharmacy so mom could get some cards and some coca-colas. As we drove up in the parking lot, thankfully, my father’s store was in a lull and it was empty. I didn’t feel like answering questions or being social with some of his long time customers who know me.
“You two doing okay?” My father asked. “Did you go to the White House?”
“We are fine,” I said trying to down play the real situation. “No, we went to the barbeque place just up the road.”
“You are making me hungry just talking about it,” My father replied.
Mom finished her shopping and declared that she was ready to head home.
“See ya Dad,” I said.
“You sure you are okay?” My father asked. “You two are acting kind of strange.”
“Yeah, we are fine,” I replied. “We are both just tired.”
I have learned to downplay my episodes as they cause unwanted attention.
I drove Mom home and dropped her off under the foyer. She thanked me for the meal out and asked me once again if I was okay. I assured her that everything was fine and I just needed to go home and have a lie down. I drove on home and was glad to pull up in the drive way and get that over with. I walked inside and found five messages on my answering machine. I debated over pressing the play button. I hit play anyway. All the messages were from my Great Uncle Bob.
“Andrew? I need you to come over and put my televisions in my Van and I need you to take me down to the repair shop tomorrow to get them fixed,” The first message from Uncle Bob said.
The subsequent messages were of the same variety. His televisions had gotten hit by lightning in that severe storm we had last week and Charlie had brought him a temporary TV so he could watch for the time being. I dialed his number and got him on the phone.
“Hello?” Bob asked.
“Bob, I can’t come tonight or tomorrow,” I said. “I don’t feel well.”
“What’s wrong with you?” He asked.
“That is none of your business,” I replied. “I don’t mean to come across as abrupt but I really don’t feel well.”
The majority of my extended family doesn’t know about my mental illness.
“I really need to get these televisions down to the shop tomorrow,” He said.
“Sorry bud,” I replied. “But you are going to have to find someone else. I am not up to doing much for the next few days. If you are willing to wait until next week, I can help you. If you can’t wait, then get Linda and Florene to help.”
“I really need to get them fixed tomorrow,” He said persistently. “If you could just put them in the van and drive me down, I would appreciate it.”
“Bob, good night,” I replied. “I will talk to you next week when I am feeling better.”
“What?” Bob asked sounding confused. He had never heard me basically say no before and it caught him by surprise.
“Good night,” I said. “I need to head to bed.”
I hung up the phone and paced back and forth in front of my entertainment center awaiting him to call back. After several minutes, the phone remained quiet and I could finally calm down. I was almost beside myself. I sat on my back porch for an hour, smoking cigarettes, until my anxiety started to abate. I feel much better now.
“Do you still want to go get something to eat?” I asked.
“I am just starving,” She said. “Let me put on some clothes and we will go.”
I was kind of hoping she would say no and would go back to bed. She went into her bedroom for a few moments, got dressed, and came back out looking disheveled.
“Mom, brush your hair and put on a little makeup,” I said.
“I don’t really have it together tonight,” She said after a light hearted laugh. “I just woke up.”
“Here, let me help you,” I replied.
I walked her into her bathroom and tried to help her fix her hair with a hair brush. She half-heartedly put on some lipstick and other makeup.
“Are you sure you want to go out to eat?” I asked. “It seems me and you don’t have it together tonight.”
“Let’s go down to the barbeque place and get a plate.” She replied. “I also need to go by your father’s store and get some birthday cards for your cousins.”
We walked outside, down to the car, and got in. Soon, we were on our way down through the valley to get something to eat.
“What are you getting?” My mother asked as we stood at the counter in the restaurant.
“A smoked chicken plate,” I said.
The lady at the counter took my order and my mother told her to get her the same thing as well. We sat down to eat but I didn’t have any kind of appetite. I was experiencing severe paranoia and thought everyone in the restaurant was watching me and laughing at me.
“Are you okay?” My mother asked as she held out her hand to hold mine.
This jolted me back into reality. I had been staring off into space.
“Yeah, I just don’t feel good,” I replied. “I have a headache and am not that hungry.”
My mother ate all that was on her plate. I only ate a few bites. I got a to-go box and took the rest home with me. We now had to drive down to my father’s pharmacy so mom could get some cards and some coca-colas. As we drove up in the parking lot, thankfully, my father’s store was in a lull and it was empty. I didn’t feel like answering questions or being social with some of his long time customers who know me.
“You two doing okay?” My father asked. “Did you go to the White House?”
“We are fine,” I said trying to down play the real situation. “No, we went to the barbeque place just up the road.”
“You are making me hungry just talking about it,” My father replied.
Mom finished her shopping and declared that she was ready to head home.
“See ya Dad,” I said.
“You sure you are okay?” My father asked. “You two are acting kind of strange.”
“Yeah, we are fine,” I replied. “We are both just tired.”
I have learned to downplay my episodes as they cause unwanted attention.
I drove Mom home and dropped her off under the foyer. She thanked me for the meal out and asked me once again if I was okay. I assured her that everything was fine and I just needed to go home and have a lie down. I drove on home and was glad to pull up in the drive way and get that over with. I walked inside and found five messages on my answering machine. I debated over pressing the play button. I hit play anyway. All the messages were from my Great Uncle Bob.
“Andrew? I need you to come over and put my televisions in my Van and I need you to take me down to the repair shop tomorrow to get them fixed,” The first message from Uncle Bob said.
The subsequent messages were of the same variety. His televisions had gotten hit by lightning in that severe storm we had last week and Charlie had brought him a temporary TV so he could watch for the time being. I dialed his number and got him on the phone.
“Hello?” Bob asked.
“Bob, I can’t come tonight or tomorrow,” I said. “I don’t feel well.”
“What’s wrong with you?” He asked.
“That is none of your business,” I replied. “I don’t mean to come across as abrupt but I really don’t feel well.”
The majority of my extended family doesn’t know about my mental illness.
“I really need to get these televisions down to the shop tomorrow,” He said.
“Sorry bud,” I replied. “But you are going to have to find someone else. I am not up to doing much for the next few days. If you are willing to wait until next week, I can help you. If you can’t wait, then get Linda and Florene to help.”
“I really need to get them fixed tomorrow,” He said persistently. “If you could just put them in the van and drive me down, I would appreciate it.”
“Bob, good night,” I replied. “I will talk to you next week when I am feeling better.”
“What?” Bob asked sounding confused. He had never heard me basically say no before and it caught him by surprise.
“Good night,” I said. “I need to head to bed.”
I hung up the phone and paced back and forth in front of my entertainment center awaiting him to call back. After several minutes, the phone remained quiet and I could finally calm down. I was almost beside myself. I sat on my back porch for an hour, smoking cigarettes, until my anxiety started to abate. I feel much better now.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Under the Weather
Not feeling particularly well the past two days. My medicine is time released and tomorrow is my day for another shot so I am pretty sure it has ran out. I think that as the medication dosage level in my blood drops my symptoms start to crop up. I have been extremely unmotivated, morose, and depressed. I have also been kind of agoraphobic and have not left my apartment since my trip with Bob thus not having anything to write about in particular. Any social contact of any kind makes me a nervous wreck when I get like this. When I am feeling ill, I can get socially inept and strange so I have found it best just to sequester myself in my apartment and just rest.
Earlier this morning, I was briskly pacing up and down the driveway smoking cigarettes. I was talking very loudly to myself and cursing. I stopped abruptly and realized what I was doing. I looked across the street and noticed my elderly neighbor standing at his window watching me. I know I looked and was acting completely strange and nuts. I headed on inside feeling terribly embarrassed.
Earlier this morning, I was briskly pacing up and down the driveway smoking cigarettes. I was talking very loudly to myself and cursing. I stopped abruptly and realized what I was doing. I looked across the street and noticed my elderly neighbor standing at his window watching me. I know I looked and was acting completely strange and nuts. I headed on inside feeling terribly embarrassed.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Caught and I Can’t Escape
I knew this would happen but we fools have been known to walk blindly into traps. I haven’t seen great uncle Bob for weeks now as I have been avoiding him. I just knew if he were to catch me, he would get up some kind of task or road trip for me to perform. My greatest fears were realized today.
I had been feeling terribly guilty about avoiding him. After all, he is an elderly man who had just lost his wife of thirty years and is recovering from major heart surgery. My guilt finally overcame my better judgment and I drove over this morning to check on him. We talked for a while as he watched a taped baseball game from the other night. Finally, the hammer dropped.
“Grumpy?” Bob asked in his country twang voice. “I need you to take me up to Acworth to get some stuff finalized about the estate. Can you take me tomorrow?”
Acworth, Georgia is a two and half hour drive. I don’t know why he can’t use an accountant here in the valley. The accountant he uses up there seems kind of shady like a used car salesman.
“Yeah, I will take you,” I said with a depressed tone to my voice.
I just cannot say no to him for some reason. I said goodbye, walked out the door, and was kicking myself in the ass, figuratively, as I walked to the car. Why was I such a fool to go over? I knew this would happen and he wonders why I have been avoiding him. This is not something pressing or that needs to be done on an urgent basis. My father had told him that several days ago.
After I got home, I called my father to bitch.
“Dad, I told you what would happen,” I said. “I know he has been asking about me but that is why I haven’t gone over.”
“Well, shit son,” My father said sounding dejected. “You can’t even go around him without him getting you up something major to do.”
“That is why I have been avoiding him,” I replied. “I am his errand boy and he knows I am too kind to say no.”
So, my day tomorrow is completely fucked. I will spend all day driving him up there, waiting around a shady accountant’s office, and then driving the two and half hours home; all this for something that doesn’t really have to be done at this moment. It is about money. He is afraid his two step children are going to get most of the estate and wants to makes sure that doesn’t happen. Oh man, if I still drank, I would love a few beers about now. Hell, I probably would drink a twelve pack.
I had been feeling terribly guilty about avoiding him. After all, he is an elderly man who had just lost his wife of thirty years and is recovering from major heart surgery. My guilt finally overcame my better judgment and I drove over this morning to check on him. We talked for a while as he watched a taped baseball game from the other night. Finally, the hammer dropped.
“Grumpy?” Bob asked in his country twang voice. “I need you to take me up to Acworth to get some stuff finalized about the estate. Can you take me tomorrow?”
Acworth, Georgia is a two and half hour drive. I don’t know why he can’t use an accountant here in the valley. The accountant he uses up there seems kind of shady like a used car salesman.
“Yeah, I will take you,” I said with a depressed tone to my voice.
I just cannot say no to him for some reason. I said goodbye, walked out the door, and was kicking myself in the ass, figuratively, as I walked to the car. Why was I such a fool to go over? I knew this would happen and he wonders why I have been avoiding him. This is not something pressing or that needs to be done on an urgent basis. My father had told him that several days ago.
After I got home, I called my father to bitch.
“Dad, I told you what would happen,” I said. “I know he has been asking about me but that is why I haven’t gone over.”
“Well, shit son,” My father said sounding dejected. “You can’t even go around him without him getting you up something major to do.”
“That is why I have been avoiding him,” I replied. “I am his errand boy and he knows I am too kind to say no.”
So, my day tomorrow is completely fucked. I will spend all day driving him up there, waiting around a shady accountant’s office, and then driving the two and half hours home; all this for something that doesn’t really have to be done at this moment. It is about money. He is afraid his two step children are going to get most of the estate and wants to makes sure that doesn’t happen. Oh man, if I still drank, I would love a few beers about now. Hell, I probably would drink a twelve pack.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Get It Sorted!
I blame Annabel for today’s exertions. I have been reading about her efforts to clean out her garage and it was contagious. I spent all day cleaning out mine as well and now my car is safely parked indoors.
I had to move Charlie’s antiques that were stored in it to under the basement. One lift truck and many sore muscles later, I finally got it all accomplished. I am now going to turn on the air conditioner and collapse in my bed. I have had enough moving and rearranging for a life time.
I had to move Charlie’s antiques that were stored in it to under the basement. One lift truck and many sore muscles later, I finally got it all accomplished. I am now going to turn on the air conditioner and collapse in my bed. I have had enough moving and rearranging for a life time.
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Sam and I
I had another birthday party to attend today. It was Charlie’s youngest son’s 34th birthday. He is a year older than me. He is autistic and still loves stuffed animals and toys for gifts. I dragged myself down to the dreaded Wal-Mart and purchased him a “Police Action Set”. It included handcuffs and he loves handcuffs for some reason so he was thrilled by the gift. He carried it around for most of the evening smelling it and thumping it with his index finger. He also loves cans of shaving cream and got quite a few wrapped in wrapping paper and tied with ribbons. I thought it was neat that the people involved would take the time to wrap those cans.
Charlie’s son also has to go see a movie every Saturday and to the mall. He hires Sandra to do this. I have known Sandra since I was a little kid as she is good friends with my mother. Sandra brought her granddaughter Samantha who I affectionately call Sam to the birthday party. Sam is eight years old and just loves me for some reason. She will not leave my side and will follow me everywhere I go.
I hadn’t had a cigarette for over two hours and was desperate. I didn’t want to smoke in front of a little kid and tried to sneak out without Sam noticing. She saw me step out Charlie’s back door and followed anyway.
I sat down on the back steps of the back door. Sam sat down next to me. It thundered loudly off in the distance.
“What makes it thunder?” Sam asked.
“Well, you see, there are these thunder gnomes,” I said. “When they get angry they stomp around their rooms really fast and disturb the air causing thunder.”
Sam laughed with glee.
“Stop being silly,” She said. “I know what causes thunder.”
“Then, why did you ask?” I said.
“I just wanted to see if you knew,” She replied.
The urge for a cigarette overcame my inhibitions. I reached into my pocket, pulled one out, put it into my mouth, and lit it. Sam watched intently as I did this. I stood up so the smoke wouldn’t disturb her.
“You know, smoking will kill you,” She said.
I took a few more puffs feeling guilty.
“Doesn’t it burn your throat?” She asked.
“No, you get used to it,” I replied. “It does burn the first few times you try it.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do it,” She said. “I don’t want you to die.”
I put out the cigarette on the pavement and put the butt in my pocket.
“I will never smoke again if you promise me you never will as well,” I said.
“Yuck, I ain’t never going to smoke,” She said.
“You promise not to?” I asked.
“I promise,” She said. “But you have to quit as well.”
I promised her I would never smoke again. I know I lied but I didn’t want to disappoint her as she so looks up to me.
Charlie’s son also has to go see a movie every Saturday and to the mall. He hires Sandra to do this. I have known Sandra since I was a little kid as she is good friends with my mother. Sandra brought her granddaughter Samantha who I affectionately call Sam to the birthday party. Sam is eight years old and just loves me for some reason. She will not leave my side and will follow me everywhere I go.
I hadn’t had a cigarette for over two hours and was desperate. I didn’t want to smoke in front of a little kid and tried to sneak out without Sam noticing. She saw me step out Charlie’s back door and followed anyway.
I sat down on the back steps of the back door. Sam sat down next to me. It thundered loudly off in the distance.
“What makes it thunder?” Sam asked.
“Well, you see, there are these thunder gnomes,” I said. “When they get angry they stomp around their rooms really fast and disturb the air causing thunder.”
Sam laughed with glee.
“Stop being silly,” She said. “I know what causes thunder.”
“Then, why did you ask?” I said.
“I just wanted to see if you knew,” She replied.
The urge for a cigarette overcame my inhibitions. I reached into my pocket, pulled one out, put it into my mouth, and lit it. Sam watched intently as I did this. I stood up so the smoke wouldn’t disturb her.
“You know, smoking will kill you,” She said.
I took a few more puffs feeling guilty.
“Doesn’t it burn your throat?” She asked.
“No, you get used to it,” I replied. “It does burn the first few times you try it.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do it,” She said. “I don’t want you to die.”
I put out the cigarette on the pavement and put the butt in my pocket.
“I will never smoke again if you promise me you never will as well,” I said.
“Yuck, I ain’t never going to smoke,” She said.
“You promise not to?” I asked.
“I promise,” She said. “But you have to quit as well.”
I promised her I would never smoke again. I know I lied but I didn’t want to disappoint her as she so looks up to me.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Intimate Encounters of the Passionate Kind
We met at my brother’s wedding. I will never forget the moment she entered the room of the reception. She was my sister’s best friend during their childhood. I hadn’t seen her in years. Now, she was this grown and voluptuous woman. I almost didn’t recognize her.
My last memory of her had been this frumpy, young teenager listening to the Back Street Boys with my sister in her bedroom. Then, I had no interest in her at all. She said she had this terrible crush on me at that time but I never paid her any attention.
“You look so beautiful,” I said as she walked by. “You look so different.”
“Thanks,” She said as she looked back at me over her shoulder with a smile as she walked towards the band to dance.
I picked up a glass of champagne and took a sip. I watched her from across the room. I could see her catching occasional glimpses at me. We both smiled. I held up my glass towards her and she responded in kind. I was too shy to go over and start up a conversation.
The reception came to a close and everyone said their goodbyes and well wishes to my brother and his new wife. I watched as she walked out of the country club and got in her car. I thought that would be the last time I ever saw or heard from her again.
The next day at work, I was sitting in my office at the computer entering data from our latest research study. I checked my email and there was this enticing message:
She had found my email address on the University’s webpage. I emailed her back and we set a date to go out after a few exchanges.
Our date went well. We went to a movie and out to eat. I spared no expense. I drove her home and we sat in her driveway. We kissed intimately and with great passion after a few awkward moments of indecision and silence.
“Well, I need to head on to bed,” She said. “It is getting late and I have to work tomorrow.”
“Let me walk you to the door,” I replied.
I got out of my car and walked around to open her door. We both walked hand in hand to her porch. We embraced and kissed passionately again at the threshold.
“Come on in,” She said as she opened the door and pulled me inside.
We were standing in front of her television in the den as she started to unbutton my shirt. I felt her soft hands reach inside it and embrace me. The feel of her soft, feminine hands on my back was tantalizing.
“I have waited for this a long time,” She said. “I have waited for this ever since we were teenagers.”
“Don’t you think this is too soon?” I asked.
She put her index finger up to my lips and told me to hush then she started to unbutton her shirt. She reached around and let loose her bra. We couldn’t undress fast enough between bouts of passionate kissing.
I will leave the rest up to your imaginations. I ended up married to this woman a few months later. It was a whirlwind of a relationship. We had many grand times and sad times as well. Those first few months of passionate bliss should be the ones I try to remember the most. I enjoyed reminiscing over them tonight and putting this one down on digital “paper”.
My last memory of her had been this frumpy, young teenager listening to the Back Street Boys with my sister in her bedroom. Then, I had no interest in her at all. She said she had this terrible crush on me at that time but I never paid her any attention.
“You look so beautiful,” I said as she walked by. “You look so different.”
“Thanks,” She said as she looked back at me over her shoulder with a smile as she walked towards the band to dance.
I picked up a glass of champagne and took a sip. I watched her from across the room. I could see her catching occasional glimpses at me. We both smiled. I held up my glass towards her and she responded in kind. I was too shy to go over and start up a conversation.
The reception came to a close and everyone said their goodbyes and well wishes to my brother and his new wife. I watched as she walked out of the country club and got in her car. I thought that would be the last time I ever saw or heard from her again.
The next day at work, I was sitting in my office at the computer entering data from our latest research study. I checked my email and there was this enticing message:
I think you are cute. I enjoyed seeing you at the wedding last night. Let’s get together soon.
She had found my email address on the University’s webpage. I emailed her back and we set a date to go out after a few exchanges.
Our date went well. We went to a movie and out to eat. I spared no expense. I drove her home and we sat in her driveway. We kissed intimately and with great passion after a few awkward moments of indecision and silence.
“Well, I need to head on to bed,” She said. “It is getting late and I have to work tomorrow.”
“Let me walk you to the door,” I replied.
I got out of my car and walked around to open her door. We both walked hand in hand to her porch. We embraced and kissed passionately again at the threshold.
“Come on in,” She said as she opened the door and pulled me inside.
We were standing in front of her television in the den as she started to unbutton my shirt. I felt her soft hands reach inside it and embrace me. The feel of her soft, feminine hands on my back was tantalizing.
“I have waited for this a long time,” She said. “I have waited for this ever since we were teenagers.”
“Don’t you think this is too soon?” I asked.
She put her index finger up to my lips and told me to hush then she started to unbutton her shirt. She reached around and let loose her bra. We couldn’t undress fast enough between bouts of passionate kissing.
I will leave the rest up to your imaginations. I ended up married to this woman a few months later. It was a whirlwind of a relationship. We had many grand times and sad times as well. Those first few months of passionate bliss should be the ones I try to remember the most. I enjoyed reminiscing over them tonight and putting this one down on digital “paper”.
A Quiet Day Other Than the Weather
My power was out for most of the day. We had some severe storms blow through and linger for most of the afternoon. It steadily poured rain for hours. I sat in my lounge chair, smoked my pipe, and reread old issues of Model Railroader magazine. I reveled in the silence and peace. Everything was so peaceful after the storms subsided. The only sound was that of the rain softly falling and an occasional rumble of thunder.
Tonight, I was reading by candlelight in my den. I had all my windows open and the cool, night breeze was refreshing. Suddenly, the power kicked back on and the sound of silence was broken by everything electrical and mechanical whizzing and clicking back to life. The soft glow of flickering candles was washed out by the harsh, bright glow of incandescent bulbs. I was almost tempted to turn everything back off again and continue with reading by candlelight, but the lure of my computer and the internet distracted me. Like a moth drawn to the flickering flame of my candles, I was drawn to the fluorescent glow of my monitor to find out what had happened during my online absence.
Tonight, I was reading by candlelight in my den. I had all my windows open and the cool, night breeze was refreshing. Suddenly, the power kicked back on and the sound of silence was broken by everything electrical and mechanical whizzing and clicking back to life. The soft glow of flickering candles was washed out by the harsh, bright glow of incandescent bulbs. I was almost tempted to turn everything back off again and continue with reading by candlelight, but the lure of my computer and the internet distracted me. Like a moth drawn to the flickering flame of my candles, I was drawn to the fluorescent glow of my monitor to find out what had happened during my online absence.
A Forlorn Epilogue
We met at my brother’s wedding. I will never forget the moment she entered the room of the reception. She was my sister’s best friend from their childhood. I hadn’t seen her in years. Now, she was this grown and voluptuous woman.
“You look beautiful,” I said as she walked by.
“Thanks,” She said as she looked back at me over her shoulder with a smile as she walked towards the band to dance.
I picked up a glass of champagne and took a sip. I watched her from across the room. I could see her catching occasional glimpses at me. We both smiled. I held up my glass towards her and she responded in kind.
The reception came to a close and everyone said their goodbyes and well wishes to the newlyweds. I watched as she walked out from the country club and got in her car. I thought that would be the last time I ever saw or heard from her again.
The next day at work, I was sitting at my computer entering data from our latest research study. I checked my email and there was this enticing email:
I think you are cute. I enjoyed seeing you at the wedding last night. Let’s get together soon.
She had found my email address on the University’s webpage. I emailed her back and we had a date. I was ecstatic.
Our date went well. We went to a movie and out to eat. I drove her home and we sat in her driveway. We kissed intimately and with great passion.
“Come inside,” She said.
“It is getting kind of late and I…,” I started to reply.
She held up a finger to my lips and I got quiet.
“Come on,” She said as she held out her hand.
I remember standing in front of the bed as she unbuttoned my shirt. I was a nervous wreck. She reached inside my open shirt and hugged me. I pulled her ever closer. The feel of her soft hands on my back was tantalizing.
“I have waited for this a long time,” She said as she pulled me towards her bed. “I have loved you ever since we were kids.”
Well, I will leave out the x-rated parts but we did make love. A few months later I was engaged and soon to be married. I just wish those passionate first few months would have been carried out over the two years we were married. That would have been bliss.
“You look beautiful,” I said as she walked by.
“Thanks,” She said as she looked back at me over her shoulder with a smile as she walked towards the band to dance.
I picked up a glass of champagne and took a sip. I watched her from across the room. I could see her catching occasional glimpses at me. We both smiled. I held up my glass towards her and she responded in kind.
The reception came to a close and everyone said their goodbyes and well wishes to the newlyweds. I watched as she walked out from the country club and got in her car. I thought that would be the last time I ever saw or heard from her again.
The next day at work, I was sitting at my computer entering data from our latest research study. I checked my email and there was this enticing email:
I think you are cute. I enjoyed seeing you at the wedding last night. Let’s get together soon.
She had found my email address on the University’s webpage. I emailed her back and we had a date. I was ecstatic.
Our date went well. We went to a movie and out to eat. I drove her home and we sat in her driveway. We kissed intimately and with great passion.
“Come inside,” She said.
“It is getting kind of late and I…,” I started to reply.
She held up a finger to my lips and I got quiet.
“Come on,” She said as she held out her hand.
I remember standing in front of the bed as she unbuttoned my shirt. I was a nervous wreck. She reached inside my open shirt and hugged me. I pulled her ever closer. The feel of her soft hands on my back was tantalizing.
“I have waited for this a long time,” She said as she pulled me towards her bed. “I have loved you ever since we were kids.”
Well, I will leave out the x-rated parts but we did make love. A few months later I was engaged and soon to be married. I just wish those passionate first few months would have been carried out over the two years we were married. That would have been bliss.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
How Not To Find Love on the Internets
This happened years ago before I got married. I got in the habit of chatting on IRC (Internet Relay Chat) every night in a certain chat room. I was new to the internet and found it fascinating you could converse with so many people scattered across the world. I soon started to private chat with a lady with whom we shared a lot of interests and ideals. Within a matter of time, we were also emailing everyday. I looked forward to her emails and grew attached to her. She had also grown attached to me.
Emails blossomed into talking on the phone. The hard thing about this was that she lived in San Francisco, California and I lived in Alabama. I found a web dialing service called Dailpad.com where I could make long distance calls for free over the internet. That solved the problem of the escalating costs of our multiple hour chats on the phone every night. I had an over two hundred dollar phone bill one month and it liked to have left me broke.
We exchanged many pictures and she was gorgeous. She would send me these cute little cards and letters in the mail that smelled of her perfume. She even started sending me gift boxes with compact discs, neck ties, and other things she thought I would enjoy.
We had been talking for months now very intimately. I had a long weekend coming up from work and decided to buy a plane ticket for San Francisco and fly out. I wanted us to finally meet. We talked on the phone about it and she acted VERY strange and tried to persuade me from coming. By this time, I had fallen in love with this woman and was smitten.
A few days after that I got a strange email from a man that shocked me. It went like this…..
I went into to total shock. I had invested tons of time and money into this relationship and it was a total sham. Her real name was Teresa Coulter and not Patti. She weighed over 400 pounds and could barely get around. She was also twice my age. The pictures she had sent were of her much younger and less endowed sister. I felt completely betrayed and swindled.
I completely cut off ties with her after that but it continued to hurt deeply. She would send me countless emails everyday trying to get me to talk to her. I was not so mad about her age or weight but the fact that she had lied to me and deceived me. I would have been her friend and confidant if she would have been honest with me as I did enjoy our correspondence and communication.
A few years later, after I had gotten married, I got a strange phone call one afternoon. Rachel picked up the phone and then handed it to me.
“Sweetheart, it’s for you.” She said.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Some man,” Rachel said. “I don’t know.”
“Jonathon?” The strange voice asked. “It's me, Avery, Teresa’s husband.”
“Oh, hello there,” I said nervously.
“I just wanted to let you know Teresa passed away this morning in the hospital due to complications surrounding her weight,” He said. “I lost the love of my life.”
I gave him my condolences and tried to comfort him. I really felt sorry for the guy but I had no feelings what so ever for Teresa any more. I know that sounds callous but I had never been betrayed like that in my whole life. I was sorry she had died but I had more feeling for Avery.
I hope this story is a reminder to be careful with whom you talk to or meet on the internet. Sometimes, people are not always what they seem or pretend to be.
Emails blossomed into talking on the phone. The hard thing about this was that she lived in San Francisco, California and I lived in Alabama. I found a web dialing service called Dailpad.com where I could make long distance calls for free over the internet. That solved the problem of the escalating costs of our multiple hour chats on the phone every night. I had an over two hundred dollar phone bill one month and it liked to have left me broke.
We exchanged many pictures and she was gorgeous. She would send me these cute little cards and letters in the mail that smelled of her perfume. She even started sending me gift boxes with compact discs, neck ties, and other things she thought I would enjoy.
We had been talking for months now very intimately. I had a long weekend coming up from work and decided to buy a plane ticket for San Francisco and fly out. I wanted us to finally meet. We talked on the phone about it and she acted VERY strange and tried to persuade me from coming. By this time, I had fallen in love with this woman and was smitten.
A few days after that I got a strange email from a man that shocked me. It went like this…..
Andrew,
I appreciate what you have done for Teresa (I thought her name was Patti.) I am her husband, Avery. Teresa lives in a house that I bought for her and I try to keep her up. She is not able to get around much due to her weight. Thanks so much for giving meaning to her life. She cares about you very much.
Avery
I went into to total shock. I had invested tons of time and money into this relationship and it was a total sham. Her real name was Teresa Coulter and not Patti. She weighed over 400 pounds and could barely get around. She was also twice my age. The pictures she had sent were of her much younger and less endowed sister. I felt completely betrayed and swindled.
I completely cut off ties with her after that but it continued to hurt deeply. She would send me countless emails everyday trying to get me to talk to her. I was not so mad about her age or weight but the fact that she had lied to me and deceived me. I would have been her friend and confidant if she would have been honest with me as I did enjoy our correspondence and communication.
A few years later, after I had gotten married, I got a strange phone call one afternoon. Rachel picked up the phone and then handed it to me.
“Sweetheart, it’s for you.” She said.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Some man,” Rachel said. “I don’t know.”
“Jonathon?” The strange voice asked. “It's me, Avery, Teresa’s husband.”
“Oh, hello there,” I said nervously.
“I just wanted to let you know Teresa passed away this morning in the hospital due to complications surrounding her weight,” He said. “I lost the love of my life.”
I gave him my condolences and tried to comfort him. I really felt sorry for the guy but I had no feelings what so ever for Teresa any more. I know that sounds callous but I had never been betrayed like that in my whole life. I was sorry she had died but I had more feeling for Avery.
I hope this story is a reminder to be careful with whom you talk to or meet on the internet. Sometimes, people are not always what they seem or pretend to be.
Mozilla FireFox Rocks!
Okay, I found this browser by accident when using Blog Explosion. I have been using it a week and will never go back to Internet Explorer. If you ever use tabular browsing, you will be hooked. You can just right click on any link and open it in a new tab and not open a new window. You can easily switch between tabs as you browse page to page. Awesome stuff and it is a very small download. This browser is also much more secure as far as spyware and adware are concerned than Internet Explorer.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
The Pay per View Player
Playa or Player is a slang term for men who get lots of women and sex.
Late this afternoon, I decided to walk down to the shopping center to the little Asian restaurant that surprisingly sells some of the best burgers in town along with fried rice and other things. This is the same shopping center where the Piggly Wiggly resides. I had called ahead and ordered two hamburgers, all the way. I walked down to pick them up.
I picked up my burgers and walked over to the bench by the Pig to sit down and eat them. Slop was sitting there as well. I sat down, pulled one out of the bag, unwrapped it, and took a bite. You could see Slop’s mouth water as he licked his lips. He watched me intently while wiping the sweat from his brow.
“You couldn’t spare dat other burger, could you?” Slop asked.
“Slop, get your own damn burger,” I replied.
“Come on, man! Dis brotha be hungry,” Slop said.
Don’t worry. Slop hasn’t been missing any meals.
I got quite full after eating only one and handed the other burger to Slop. You would have thought I had handed him a bar of gold he was so happy.
“I really owes you one my friend!” Slop said as he proceeded to engulf the burger.
By this time, George came pulling up to the front of the store in his infamous Dodge Diplomat. An elderly black lady climbed out of the car and proceeded towards the entrance to the Pig to buy her groceries. George turned off the car and walked over to sit down with us.
“Whazzup, my brotha,” George said as he held out his hand for me to clasp it.
I shook his hand as he sat down next to me and Slop. He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cherry hinted cigars. He placed one in his mouth and then held out the pack towards me. I reached in and grabbed one as well. We both lit them up.
“George, I sho be needin’ a dolla,” Slop said.
“Fuck yo fat black ass, Slop!” George said. “You god damned lazy ass nigga!”
Slop just chuckled as always.
“You been speakin’ to yo ex-wife?” George asked as he turned to me.
“No and thank goodness,” I replied.
“I need to see about getting you two back together,” George said. “I ain’t talked to her in a while.”
George is under the delusion that he somehow knows Rachel and that they have spoken several times in the past. This is just hilarious to me.
“George, you would be doing me a favor if you just left Rachel alone,” I said playing along.
George leaned close to me and whispered, “Everyman has his needs.”
“George, if my needs get that bad, I have a perfectly functioning hand,” I replied.
George laughed.
“Yo ass know dat ain’t the same,” George said. “A man’s gotta get some lovin’ from a real woman.”
“George, when was the last time you had a woman?” I asked.
George got a big grin on his face as he blew out cigar smoke.
“I be a playa,” George said. “I be gettin’ some last night.”
“How much did you pay for it?” I asked.
Slop burst out laughing. George yanked off his cap and hit Slop with it trying to shut him up.
“Well, did you pay for it?’ I asked again.
“I only paid twenty bucks,” George said. “But it sho was some good pussy!”
We all laughed. George is a “pay-per-view” player.
“Well, man,” I said as I stood up. “I am gonna to head to the house and settle in.”
“I be talkin’ to Rachel tonight,” George said. “Keep a look out for her.”
“Later, man.” I said as I chuckled and walked on home.
Late this afternoon, I decided to walk down to the shopping center to the little Asian restaurant that surprisingly sells some of the best burgers in town along with fried rice and other things. This is the same shopping center where the Piggly Wiggly resides. I had called ahead and ordered two hamburgers, all the way. I walked down to pick them up.
I picked up my burgers and walked over to the bench by the Pig to sit down and eat them. Slop was sitting there as well. I sat down, pulled one out of the bag, unwrapped it, and took a bite. You could see Slop’s mouth water as he licked his lips. He watched me intently while wiping the sweat from his brow.
“You couldn’t spare dat other burger, could you?” Slop asked.
“Slop, get your own damn burger,” I replied.
“Come on, man! Dis brotha be hungry,” Slop said.
Don’t worry. Slop hasn’t been missing any meals.
I got quite full after eating only one and handed the other burger to Slop. You would have thought I had handed him a bar of gold he was so happy.
“I really owes you one my friend!” Slop said as he proceeded to engulf the burger.
By this time, George came pulling up to the front of the store in his infamous Dodge Diplomat. An elderly black lady climbed out of the car and proceeded towards the entrance to the Pig to buy her groceries. George turned off the car and walked over to sit down with us.
“Whazzup, my brotha,” George said as he held out his hand for me to clasp it.
I shook his hand as he sat down next to me and Slop. He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cherry hinted cigars. He placed one in his mouth and then held out the pack towards me. I reached in and grabbed one as well. We both lit them up.
“George, I sho be needin’ a dolla,” Slop said.
“Fuck yo fat black ass, Slop!” George said. “You god damned lazy ass nigga!”
Slop just chuckled as always.
“You been speakin’ to yo ex-wife?” George asked as he turned to me.
“No and thank goodness,” I replied.
“I need to see about getting you two back together,” George said. “I ain’t talked to her in a while.”
George is under the delusion that he somehow knows Rachel and that they have spoken several times in the past. This is just hilarious to me.
“George, you would be doing me a favor if you just left Rachel alone,” I said playing along.
George leaned close to me and whispered, “Everyman has his needs.”
“George, if my needs get that bad, I have a perfectly functioning hand,” I replied.
George laughed.
“Yo ass know dat ain’t the same,” George said. “A man’s gotta get some lovin’ from a real woman.”
“George, when was the last time you had a woman?” I asked.
George got a big grin on his face as he blew out cigar smoke.
“I be a playa,” George said. “I be gettin’ some last night.”
“How much did you pay for it?” I asked.
Slop burst out laughing. George yanked off his cap and hit Slop with it trying to shut him up.
“Well, did you pay for it?’ I asked again.
“I only paid twenty bucks,” George said. “But it sho was some good pussy!”
We all laughed. George is a “pay-per-view” player.
“Well, man,” I said as I stood up. “I am gonna to head to the house and settle in.”
“I be talkin’ to Rachel tonight,” George said. “Keep a look out for her.”
“Later, man.” I said as I chuckled and walked on home.
The Day of the Phone
The day started out with only one snafu. I had left the air conditioner on high last night and my apartment was just freezing this morning when I woke up. I climbed out of my bed, donned my robe, and sleepwalked into the kitchen. I yawned very expressively with out stretched arms and proceeded to cook some bacon and toast. I also got a big pot of coffee going.
After breakfast, I shuffled to the back door to light a cigarette as I held a hot mug of coffee. I stood on my door stoop for all the neighborhood to see me in my robe adorned glory. I was still too sleepy to care.
The phone rang. I put out my cigarette and walked to the phone.
“Hello?’ I said.
“Andrew, this is your momma,” She said as she always does as if I would not instantly recognize her voice.
“Hey mom,” I said.
“Don’t forget we are going out to eat tomorrow night,” She said.
“I won’t forget,” I replied.
“I will pick you up at fifteen till five,” She said.
We said goodbye and hung up the phone.
I was having a hard time getting going today and was just mulling about the house. It was too damned hot to really get out and do anything. I even dreaded going on my daily hike.
The phone rang again.
“Hey man! It’s Doug,” The voice said.
It was my sister’s husband.
“I need your computer expertise,” He said.
He wanted to know if he should update from Norton anti-virus 2003 to the 2005 version. I told him 2003 did the same thing as 2005 and it would be a waste of his money. He would just get a flashy new GUI and probably more bloatware.
I hung up the phone.
The phone rang again an hour later.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Jonathon, did Doug manage to get you?” My father asked.
“Yeah dad, I helped him out,” I replied.
“Well, your sister had called earlier to see if you were home as Doug needed to talk to you,” He said.
“I got him straightened out,” I replied.
We hung up the phone.
Fifteen minutes later the phone rang again.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath as I can go days without the phone ringing.
“Is this *insert residents name*?” the female voice said.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Sir, I would like to know if you would donate a small amount to the Alabama Sheriff’s Girls and Boys Ranch association.”
I especially hate when I get solicited over the phone. I am on the “Do Not Call” list but not for profits can still call.
“No thanks,” I said. “And please take me off your call list.”
She was nice and said she would.
The phone rang several more times today but you get the jest of the story. I spent most of the day on the phone. Some conversations were quite pleasant though and I enjoyed them but I feel as if I were thrust back to the days when Uncle Bob would call ten times a day and not leave a message.
After breakfast, I shuffled to the back door to light a cigarette as I held a hot mug of coffee. I stood on my door stoop for all the neighborhood to see me in my robe adorned glory. I was still too sleepy to care.
The phone rang. I put out my cigarette and walked to the phone.
“Hello?’ I said.
“Andrew, this is your momma,” She said as she always does as if I would not instantly recognize her voice.
“Hey mom,” I said.
“Don’t forget we are going out to eat tomorrow night,” She said.
“I won’t forget,” I replied.
“I will pick you up at fifteen till five,” She said.
We said goodbye and hung up the phone.
I was having a hard time getting going today and was just mulling about the house. It was too damned hot to really get out and do anything. I even dreaded going on my daily hike.
The phone rang again.
“Hey man! It’s Doug,” The voice said.
It was my sister’s husband.
“I need your computer expertise,” He said.
He wanted to know if he should update from Norton anti-virus 2003 to the 2005 version. I told him 2003 did the same thing as 2005 and it would be a waste of his money. He would just get a flashy new GUI and probably more bloatware.
I hung up the phone.
The phone rang again an hour later.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Jonathon, did Doug manage to get you?” My father asked.
“Yeah dad, I helped him out,” I replied.
“Well, your sister had called earlier to see if you were home as Doug needed to talk to you,” He said.
“I got him straightened out,” I replied.
We hung up the phone.
Fifteen minutes later the phone rang again.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath as I can go days without the phone ringing.
“Is this *insert residents name*?” the female voice said.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Sir, I would like to know if you would donate a small amount to the Alabama Sheriff’s Girls and Boys Ranch association.”
I especially hate when I get solicited over the phone. I am on the “Do Not Call” list but not for profits can still call.
“No thanks,” I said. “And please take me off your call list.”
She was nice and said she would.
The phone rang several more times today but you get the jest of the story. I spent most of the day on the phone. Some conversations were quite pleasant though and I enjoyed them but I feel as if I were thrust back to the days when Uncle Bob would call ten times a day and not leave a message.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Onwards to the Stars
The scene is January 28, 1986. I was fourteen years old. I had just had my tonsils out and was home from school for the week. My father also happened to be off from work. I was eating a pint of strawberry ice cream as that was all my sore throat would allow. We were sitting in the den watching the count down of the launch of the space shuttle Challenger.
3…2…1…Ignition began, the booster rockets fired, and the great vehicle was lifted from the launch pad and into the sky.
“Isn’t that just incredible?” My father said.
The shuttle climbed ever upwards for what seemed like minutes.
“Challenger, go for throttle up,” The control person at NASA said on the television.
I looked intently at the screen as the great space craft picked up speed and soared into the heavens. It climbed ever higher until something went wrong. The steady trail of exhaust from the vehicle suddenly burst into a chaotic maelstrom of smoke and fire. The booster rockets went flailing about mid-air still alit and separated from the space craft.
“Dad?” I asked. “What happened?”
“Shit, son.” He said quietly as he stood up from his lounge chair. He paced back and forth in front of the TV screen.
I knew then that something grave had happened. I kept quiet and sat my pint of ice cream down on the coffee table. I was no longer hungry.
“I think the damn thing just blew to high heavens,” Dad said.
It is funny how such experiences seem so vibrant in your memory. I am 33 years old now and I can recollect that day as if it had happened yesterday. I can still taste that strawberry ice cream and vividly remember the look on my father’s face as it unfolded.
Today, as I watched Discovery go through the same process on the television, my stomach was in knots and the tension was almost unbearable. I heard that familiar queue to throttle up from many years earlier in my childhood. The shuttle continued to climb and finally made it into orbit. My eyes became wet with tears but I didn’t cry. After two and half long years we were finally back in space. Now, if we can just get those seven brave souls home safe and make space travel a routine affair again, I will be ecstatic.
3…2…1…Ignition began, the booster rockets fired, and the great vehicle was lifted from the launch pad and into the sky.
“Isn’t that just incredible?” My father said.
The shuttle climbed ever upwards for what seemed like minutes.
“Challenger, go for throttle up,” The control person at NASA said on the television.
I looked intently at the screen as the great space craft picked up speed and soared into the heavens. It climbed ever higher until something went wrong. The steady trail of exhaust from the vehicle suddenly burst into a chaotic maelstrom of smoke and fire. The booster rockets went flailing about mid-air still alit and separated from the space craft.
“Dad?” I asked. “What happened?”
“Shit, son.” He said quietly as he stood up from his lounge chair. He paced back and forth in front of the TV screen.
I knew then that something grave had happened. I kept quiet and sat my pint of ice cream down on the coffee table. I was no longer hungry.
“I think the damn thing just blew to high heavens,” Dad said.
It is funny how such experiences seem so vibrant in your memory. I am 33 years old now and I can recollect that day as if it had happened yesterday. I can still taste that strawberry ice cream and vividly remember the look on my father’s face as it unfolded.
Today, as I watched Discovery go through the same process on the television, my stomach was in knots and the tension was almost unbearable. I heard that familiar queue to throttle up from many years earlier in my childhood. The shuttle continued to climb and finally made it into orbit. My eyes became wet with tears but I didn’t cry. After two and half long years we were finally back in space. Now, if we can just get those seven brave souls home safe and make space travel a routine affair again, I will be ecstatic.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
A Magical Birthday Gift for a Little Girl
If you have read my blog for any time, you have heard me speak of Charlie. Charlie is like an uncle to me and is my father’s friend with whom they are inseparable. Charlie is also the fellow who is helping me to renovate my new house at no cost.
Today was Charlie’s granddaughter’s eighth birthday party. She is very shy and reclusive. She has a hard time making friends. A few days ago, she was crying and telling her father, Alan, that no one was going to come to her birthday party. She was afraid she wasn’t going to get any presents. She has few friends.
Word of mouth spread and everyone who is associated with my father and Charlie came and brought their children. There were over 30 adults and 20 children. We didn’t have enough tables and chairs for everybody and many of us had to stand up or sit on the grass to eat. We just barely had enough hamburgers, cake, and ice cream for everyone. (I had to run back to the grocery store and buy another cake and some ice cream.)
Erin, the birthday girl, was overjoyed and spent hours running and playing with the other children. I also made a new, good friend in the husband of an employee of my father’s pharmacy. Everybody had a grand time and a little girl’s fears were quelled.
If I get up the energy later on, I want to write about the blog service Blog Explosion and explain why it is a waste of your time. I got over a thousand hits and numerous comments in just four days but there is a catch to this service that makes it completely useless. This write-up will probably be posted in the morning.
Today was Charlie’s granddaughter’s eighth birthday party. She is very shy and reclusive. She has a hard time making friends. A few days ago, she was crying and telling her father, Alan, that no one was going to come to her birthday party. She was afraid she wasn’t going to get any presents. She has few friends.
Word of mouth spread and everyone who is associated with my father and Charlie came and brought their children. There were over 30 adults and 20 children. We didn’t have enough tables and chairs for everybody and many of us had to stand up or sit on the grass to eat. We just barely had enough hamburgers, cake, and ice cream for everyone. (I had to run back to the grocery store and buy another cake and some ice cream.)
Erin, the birthday girl, was overjoyed and spent hours running and playing with the other children. I also made a new, good friend in the husband of an employee of my father’s pharmacy. Everybody had a grand time and a little girl’s fears were quelled.
If I get up the energy later on, I want to write about the blog service Blog Explosion and explain why it is a waste of your time. I got over a thousand hits and numerous comments in just four days but there is a catch to this service that makes it completely useless. This write-up will probably be posted in the morning.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Violent Weather
Yesterday, we had one of the most intense severe thunderstorms I have ever encountered. The cloud to ground lightening was almost continuous and the thunder was immediate and deafening. This storm blew up out of nowhere fueled by the intense heat and humidity we have been experiencing lately. The fierce wind even blew my back door open and shattered a pane of glass in it.
At one point, I heard a loud crack and pop and it sounded as if a strike had hit the house. I raced upstairs but everything seemed fine. I just knew I was going to find the house on fire or something.
It did hit a neighbor’s house and caught it on fire. The wails of fire truck sirens filled the air as they hurried to the location. The fire brigade managed to put it out before there was any extensive damage other than from water.
After the storm had passed, my phone rang. I picked it up to find my father on the other end.
“Have you ever seen lightning like that?” He asked.
“Dad, that was pretty intense, wasn’t it?” I replied.
“I have never seen lightning like that,” He said. “That was scary.”
“Me neither,” I said.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” He said. “I hear fire trucks all around us.”
“I thought the house had gotten hit but didn’t find anything upstairs,” I replied. “The wind did blow open my back door and broke a pane of glass though.”
“We’ll get a glass smith over in the morning,” He replied. “It cracked some glass in the door down at the drug store as well.”
Another residual pop of lightning fired nearby causing both of us to jump and the phone crackled with static.
“Let’s get off this phone!” Dad said.
We both hung up quickly. Later, I printed out the radar image of the storm and the special weather statement issued by the National Weather Service and took it to my father. We both find the weather fascinating. He greatly enjoyed this and marveled at what you can do with the internet.
At one point, I heard a loud crack and pop and it sounded as if a strike had hit the house. I raced upstairs but everything seemed fine. I just knew I was going to find the house on fire or something.
It did hit a neighbor’s house and caught it on fire. The wails of fire truck sirens filled the air as they hurried to the location. The fire brigade managed to put it out before there was any extensive damage other than from water.
After the storm had passed, my phone rang. I picked it up to find my father on the other end.
“Have you ever seen lightning like that?” He asked.
“Dad, that was pretty intense, wasn’t it?” I replied.
“I have never seen lightning like that,” He said. “That was scary.”
“Me neither,” I said.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” He said. “I hear fire trucks all around us.”
“I thought the house had gotten hit but didn’t find anything upstairs,” I replied. “The wind did blow open my back door and broke a pane of glass though.”
“We’ll get a glass smith over in the morning,” He replied. “It cracked some glass in the door down at the drug store as well.”
Another residual pop of lightning fired nearby causing both of us to jump and the phone crackled with static.
“Let’s get off this phone!” Dad said.
We both hung up quickly. Later, I printed out the radar image of the storm and the special weather statement issued by the National Weather Service and took it to my father. We both find the weather fascinating. He greatly enjoyed this and marveled at what you can do with the internet.
Friday, July 22, 2005
The Return of George
Man, my shot sure burned this morning. I think I have finally figured out why. Sometimes I can’t even feel it. Today, they called me back from the lobby almost as soon as I had signed in and sat down. I had just gotten the shot out of the refrigerator at my father’s pharmacy. The nurse remarked how cold it was but she injected it into my butt anyways. It needs to come up to room temperature before being injected thus the extreme burning.
After that ordeal was over, I proceeded to take my daily hike. The last leg of my jaunt usually brings me by the grocery store. I saw George’s dilapidated Dodge Diplomat sitting out in front of the Pig. It was good to see him as I haven’t seen him for days. I was starting to wonder if he had gotten another driving under the influence charge and was in jail.
George had brought a cohort to the grocery store in exchange for some money. He was sitting in his car in the no parking zone, smoking a cigar, and waiting for them to return. He saw me and motioned for me to come over. I walked over and leaned in towards his open window.
“Get dis brotha a beer,” George whispered.
“George, ain’t it kinda early to be drinking beer?” I asked quietly.
“It be da breakfast of champions!” George said excitedly with a huge toothy grin on his face.
I guess one beer wouldn’t hurt as he seemed completely sober.
I walked inside the store and bought a Gatorade and a Milwaukee’s Best Ice beer. I then got in the passenger’s side of George’s car and sat down. I handed George the paper bag with the beer in it. George cracked it open and proceeded to guzzle it down after looking around to make sure there weren’t any police in view.
“Why yo ass keep scratchin’?” George asked. “You got da cooties or somethin’?”
“I went camping last night and got eaten alive by some kind of bug,” I replied.
“Man, I don’t see why you white crackas want to go sit out in the woods,” George said. “You sho wouldn’t catch no nigga out in the woods at night.”
I laughed.
“George, surely some black people go camping,” I said.
“When was the last time yo ass saw a nigga in a tent?” George asked.
I sat there trying to recollect seeing black people camping. I couldn’t think of any.
“See?” George replied. “Like I said, you ain’t gonna see any niggas out in the middle of the woods unless dey be runnin’ from the police.”
I let out a hearty chuckle.
“Well, man,” I said. “I am gonna head to the house.”
“Stay cool, my brotha. Stay cool,” George said.
I walked on home before the heat of the day hit. It was good to see George alive and well and still going strong.
After that ordeal was over, I proceeded to take my daily hike. The last leg of my jaunt usually brings me by the grocery store. I saw George’s dilapidated Dodge Diplomat sitting out in front of the Pig. It was good to see him as I haven’t seen him for days. I was starting to wonder if he had gotten another driving under the influence charge and was in jail.
George had brought a cohort to the grocery store in exchange for some money. He was sitting in his car in the no parking zone, smoking a cigar, and waiting for them to return. He saw me and motioned for me to come over. I walked over and leaned in towards his open window.
“Get dis brotha a beer,” George whispered.
“George, ain’t it kinda early to be drinking beer?” I asked quietly.
“It be da breakfast of champions!” George said excitedly with a huge toothy grin on his face.
I guess one beer wouldn’t hurt as he seemed completely sober.
I walked inside the store and bought a Gatorade and a Milwaukee’s Best Ice beer. I then got in the passenger’s side of George’s car and sat down. I handed George the paper bag with the beer in it. George cracked it open and proceeded to guzzle it down after looking around to make sure there weren’t any police in view.
“Why yo ass keep scratchin’?” George asked. “You got da cooties or somethin’?”
“I went camping last night and got eaten alive by some kind of bug,” I replied.
“Man, I don’t see why you white crackas want to go sit out in the woods,” George said. “You sho wouldn’t catch no nigga out in the woods at night.”
I laughed.
“George, surely some black people go camping,” I said.
“When was the last time yo ass saw a nigga in a tent?” George asked.
I sat there trying to recollect seeing black people camping. I couldn’t think of any.
“See?” George replied. “Like I said, you ain’t gonna see any niggas out in the middle of the woods unless dey be runnin’ from the police.”
I let out a hearty chuckle.
“Well, man,” I said. “I am gonna head to the house.”
“Stay cool, my brotha. Stay cool,” George said.
I walked on home before the heat of the day hit. It was good to see George alive and well and still going strong.
Camping in a Furnace
I went camping yesterday evening. I tried to wait until very late in the evening to go due to the excessive heat yesterday. It was still hot as hell even after dark and the high humidity compounded the problem. I was mainly interesting in sitting around a fire and looking at the country night sky. I was also hoping to see the last vestiges of yesterday’s thunderstorms as they died down after the sun set. Nether of these hopes panned out.
I don’t know why I torture myself sometimes but last night’s experience was not so fun. I was literally eaten alive by something as I slept. I have bug bites all over my body and have been furiously scratching since dawn to the point I am bleeding. Whatever it was that decided to make a meal out of me especially enjoyed the area around my ankles and groin.
As usual, I awoke long before daylight. The cool morning air was a nice change from the previous day. I lit my lantern, sat upon my cooler, and ate a bowl of cereal and a banana. I then packed my gear into the car and drove home. The sun was just coming up as I pulled into the driveway.
I have to get my bi-weekly injection this morning. I really need to go get in the shower and stop writing this. I have thirty minutes to get showered, dressed, and to drive down to the valley. Off I go.
I don’t know why I torture myself sometimes but last night’s experience was not so fun. I was literally eaten alive by something as I slept. I have bug bites all over my body and have been furiously scratching since dawn to the point I am bleeding. Whatever it was that decided to make a meal out of me especially enjoyed the area around my ankles and groin.
As usual, I awoke long before daylight. The cool morning air was a nice change from the previous day. I lit my lantern, sat upon my cooler, and ate a bowl of cereal and a banana. I then packed my gear into the car and drove home. The sun was just coming up as I pulled into the driveway.
I have to get my bi-weekly injection this morning. I really need to go get in the shower and stop writing this. I have thirty minutes to get showered, dressed, and to drive down to the valley. Off I go.
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