Until Then...

I remember when I was small, standing at the bottom of our stairs, getting ready to head up to bed on a long ago New Year's Eve. Dad was shutting off the living room and hallway lights and as we headed out of the darkness, up the stairs to bed, he said to me, "Goodnight" and then he added, "I'll see you next year."

I thought it was one of the most clever things that I had ever heard, and so every year for the last several years, as I cover Sam up in bed on New Year's Eve, I say the same thing to him. And every year, because of Sam's non-reaction, I find myself explaining it to him. But it's like explaining a joke - it becomes even less funny, or in this case, less clever, the deeper you get into it. The problem is, Sam gets it. Unlike me, he's just not that impressed by it.

I'll try it again next year.

For now, let's end this year as we ended last year and the year before it - with the same music to close out the night and to close out the year. Happy New Year to you all... and I'll see you next year. (Get it?   Hello?)

Winding Down

Here we are, the last day of the year. The sun is shining and the morning temperature is rising to an almost spring-like eight degrees. With luck, it may, like yesterday, reach into the high teens. But even if it does, it won’t last. Tonight, the temperature is predicted to fall to nearly ten degrees below zero - and that’s without the wind chill. I haven’t bothered to see what the wind chill will deduct from that.

I assume that some people, for reasons that has always escaped me, will brave the cold tonight, to go somewhere and watch a ball drop. While I think there may be a certain value in this type of metaphor, I’ve never understood the appeal of watching this on TV, let alone “in person.” The idea of watching this reminder, while standing in freezing temperatures along with a large crowd of loud and annoying people, is not my idea of a celebration. Why it’s anybody’s idea of a celebration, is beyond me. Maybe it makes the rest of the year seem more tolerable by comparison.

Instead, we will have our New Year’s Eve celebration at home - ordering some alleged Chinese food, watching a little TV and then heading up to bed somewhere before ten o’clock. Except for the part about the Chinese food, this is pretty much how we spend every night. I’ve seldom stayed up to greet the New Year, and so far, the New Year has arrived whether I'm waiting for it or not. I expect this to be the case again tonight and if I’m wrong, I apologize in advance.

For this New Year’s Eve celebration, Sam and I have decided to break with tradition. Tonight, along with our usual order of Chinese food, we will be ordering some steamed dumplings. This is a pretty radical departure for us, but I feel like we need to shake things up and do something to improve our chances for the coming year. We’ve discussed this idea several times and we’re both committed to moving forward with it.

I will try to be back later tonight. In the meantime, enjoy this picture of my bedroom window, taken moments ago.

About the only good thing I can say about it is that you’re looking at a thick coating of frost, not at a two story high snow bank. Think about that as you make your plans for tonight.

Santa's Response

Every Christmas Eve, Sam writes a letter to Santa. And every Christmas Eve, Santa writes back.

One of the things that, to me, speaks to the kind of person that Sam is, is that when he comes downstairs on Christmas morning, before he checks out the stockings and before he checks out the presents under the tree, Sam goes over to the dining room table to see if Santa wrote back and to read what Santa had to say.

Most years, the response has been a fairly brief note, just a word or two, but this year, out of necessity, I think, it was a little bit longer.

In all of the years that they've been exchanging letters, this is the first year that, after reading Santa's letter, Sam said, "I think I'm going to keep this one." I think that remark is a reflection of how much some things, generally unspoken - except to Santa - have been weighing on his mind. And I think that the response, and the fact that he wanted to keep it, offered him some comfort.

I would post a photo of the letter, which is currently in a protective sleeve on the refrigerator, but Santa's writing is getting pretty poor - fatigue perhaps, or possibly age - most likely a combination of the two - and it could have been a little clearer, though it was clear enough for Sam to read, and apparently, to appreciate.

Here's the text:

12/25/17

Dear Sam,

   Yes, these years do go by quickly, don't they?  

   I hear what you are saying about finding a job. I'm afraid I can't help you with where to look, but I can tell you a couple of things.

   First, you are going about your search exactly the right way. You are taking the time to find, not only the right job, but also the right place for you - and that is extremely important. It takes time, and I know it can be frustrating, and even disappointing - but it will pay off in the end. You are making an investment and doing it right.

   The other thing I can tell you is that you are a very fine person. You are smart, you work hard, and most of all, you are a very caring person. These are not little things. They are rare and important - and you should be proud of yourself - as I am - and I know those that love you are proud of you too.

   You are on the right path and you'll do great! Everyday you get a step closer!

   Thanks for the snack (as always) and I hope you enjoy your gifts.
       Love, 
          Santa 

    P.S. Sorry for the messy writing. It's been a long night!

Christmas Night

Has it only been a day since Christmas Eve? Bed will feel good tonight.

Goodnight...

Christmas Morning

A lovely Christmas morning. Snow is falling outside (which I don't have to travel in,) stockings were stuffed, presents were under the tree (all of which have been opened as of now) and an encouraging letter was left from Santa to Sam. Best of all, the family is together, healthy and happy.

The turkey is now in the oven and things have settled into that interlude between presents and dinner - my favorite time - where we relax and interact and reflect and enjoy the fact that we're able to be together for another day.


I hope that Santa has been good to you - today and throughout your life. Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones.

Christmas Eve

This year's letter to Santa...

Too much to be carrying on this Christmas Eve. Such a fine person - kind, gentle and loving.

It will all work out, Sam.

Merry Christmas.

Exciting Photos...

... from the previous post:

Christmas Glitches

We just avoided a near catastrophe. 

Sam and I started Phase One of our Christmas baking on Sunday. In this case, Phase One consisted of making a quadruple batch of M&M cookies. Everything was going relatively smoothly until we placed the 5th or 6th pan of cookies into the oven. When the timer went off, it was clear there was a big problem. The cookies on the pan weren’t baked. They looked more like they had melted. I’ve seen this happen before. 

The last time something like this happened was probably about 8 or 9 years ago. The problem was that the baking element at the bottom of the oven had burned out. 

In most cases, this shouldn't be a huge deal, but like most things in my house, everything is so old that replacement parts are hard to get. Back then, I ordered the part at the local appliance store and for whatever reason, the part took about three weeks to come in - and when it finally showed up, it was the wrong part. I had to reorder it. (In hindsight, I think it took so long because whoever was supposed to order it the first time, never did.) If this was going to be the case again, it would be a big problem. We were only a week away from Christmas Eve.

Sam was worried and I was too, but I tried to play it cool. "It was no big deal," I said. "It'll all work out." - all of which was true and I meant it. I just had to figure out how and what to do. 

Sam's immediate concern was whether or not we were going to be able to make cookies on Christmas Eve. It turns out that it wasn’t the actual cookie making that he was concerned about. His more immediate concern was whether or not he was going to be able to leave the traditional cookies for Santa. But since we already had baked 5 or so pans of M&M cookies, he figured that maybe Santa likes M&M cookies and, if worst came to worst, he could leave a few of those for him. I told him that I was pretty sure that Santa loved M&M cookies. 

While the cookies were Sam’s immediate concern, my immediate concern was the twenty pound turkey that was currently thawing out in my refrigerator. What happens when I'm not going to be able to cook this thing for Christmas? It wasn’t simply the very real question of how I dispose of a now gone-bad twenty pound turkey - after all, the ground is too frozen to bury the thing - but what was I going to cook for Christmas Dinner instead? 

Sure, I have plenty of food crammed into my freezer, but this mostly consists of an assortment of hot dogs and various types of breakfast sausage - along with a wide variety of other frozen items which have long since surrendered all identifiable features to their thick coating of frost and various degrees of freezer burn. I suppose if I had to, I could make some kind of festive arrangement with a few of these "food" items - that is, if I put aside the question of whether or not it should actually be edible.

But even still, none of this addressed the party mix! What am I going to do about making the party mix? 

I went online and searched around and found what I hoped to be the right replacement part. I ordered the part and paid for the next day shipping, which meant that, since this was Sunday, it should be to me by the end of the day on Tuesday. I also put a call into the local the local repairman. Theoretically, this should be a simple enough job that even I could to handle it, but with time running out, I didn’t want to take any chances. So, I made the call. Now all I could do was wait. Play it cool… and wait.

The repairman called me back on Monday morning and I told him what had happened and that I had ordered the part - which was due in the following day. On Tuesday he called me again. I checked my email and sure enough, FedEx had just dropped it off at my house. I left work early and drove home to meet the repairman - but first I wanted to check out the burner - just in case it was a replay of the last time. 

I'm happy to report that it was indeed the correct part. And I'm even happier to report that, as it turns out, the burner wasn't the problem. The problem was that the wire connecting the burner was broken. 

The repairman was able to repair the wire and we were able to continue using the old bottom burner. Now, I have a spare burner for when the old one inevitably burns out. Plus, I feel like, for once I got my money’s worth by having to pay for a repair on something that actually needed repairing.

So, last night, after dinner, Sam and I were back in business. We took the bowl of remaining cookie dough off of the freezing cold back porch, and we finished baking the remainder of the cookies. Both of us were feeling very relieved, if not elated. Now, Santa will be able to have his traditional sugar cookies on Christmas Eve - and I don’t have to think of creative arrangements constructed out of hot dogs and other mystery foods. 

Plus, the party mix. Now I can make the party mix. As someone once said, "Christmas is saved!"

One More

Ok, here's another Jeff Lynne video - which is (kind of) a repeat.

(Tip: go full screen)...

Tonight's Music Videos

Some Jeff Lynne requested by Rachael...









And with company...

Thanks for Reminding Me

In case you forgot...

Thank you pizza parlor. Now, where's my order?

Today's Link(s)

If you don't count the poor grammar, the random use of punctuation that seems to follow no logic whatsoever, all the misspellings and the chronic mixing of past, present and future tenses (i.e.: "my style") - I like to think that sometimes (ok, rarely) I might actually have something to say (which is not to be so bold as to say it's worth reading.)

But if you want to see how a blog should be written, you should check out this blog (in case you've missed it under the "Places I Visit" - over on the column to your right (now with the updated web address, including the leading "b".)) If you don't believe me, at least take a few seconds to read this post.

You're welcome.

Mixed Messages

From out of nowhere, I got this text message the other day...

I have no idea who Andrew and Kristen are. Obviously this is yet another wrong number - this time in text form.

I figured I better nip this one in the bud so I texted her back and said, "Listen "Grandma," first of all, Christmas is over two weeks away. I hope this doesn't mean you're going to be bothering me every day until then. And secondly, Andrew and Kristen are sick of you, so buzz off!"

That seems to have done the trick. So far, no response.

...

Ok, just kidding. I wouldn't do something like that - especially this close to Christmas. My actual response was...

What gets me is that: a) "Grandma" didn't bother to thank me for responding and, b) she didn't bother to wish me a merry Christmas. Apparently, unlike Andrew and Kristen, "Grandma" couldn't care less if I have a nice holiday.

Maybe "Grandma" doesn't realize that, thanks to her text message, I now have her phone number.

Really Under the Weather

Ok, so... maybe driving to work in the snowstorm today wasn't the best idea. But in my defense, the crackerjack weather predictors had said that the snow was going to turn to rain this afternoon. In their defense, they were right - for about five minutes of my normally fifty-five minute or so, commute - which today was about an hour and forty-five minutes. Of course, that five minutes of rain was actually freezing rain... but still.

Under the Weather

Snow's falling for the second time in less than a week. I'm sitting here, waiting for Sam to wake up. He was scheduled to take the ADA bus this morning. This is the first time since he began practicing this new adventure in transportation, that it may be affected by the weather.

The possibility that the weather may be an issue came to our attention Sunday evening. When we heard about the predicted storm, his concern about the bus and how to deal with it, was immediate. I told him that I thought that canceling the bus wasn't as hard as scheduling it in the first place, but if it comes to that, we'll find out together. I promised him that I wouldn't leave for work that morning until we knew how - or if - it was going to be affected. The anxiety melted from his face.

So I sit here and I wait.

There are many school cancellations mounting up. I spoke to one of Sam's job coaches yesterday who told me that if the schools in our town are canceled, she and Sam won't be meeting. The schools in our town were canceled as of about ten minutes ago.

Sam's job coach just texted, saying that they won't be meeting today and asking us to cancel the bus. When Sam wakes up, I'll help him with the call, and then, it's off to work.

Today's Short Video Clip

Here's a semi re-post. This is a short video clip that I took last year and while I didn't post it here, I did post it on my Instagram account.



I took this video one night when Sam and I were out Christmas shopping. At some point, between when the video was taken and Christmas morning, Sam went back to the store and bought it - and he gave it to me for Christmas.

So that's one, or I guess maybe two things that I like about it.

When Sam and I were decorating the house the other day, I took it out and I put it back on the desk. I've played it three or four times since then and each time I press the button and the music plays, no matter where Sam is, he comes drifting over and he stands next to me and we stand and listen and watch it together. And as we're watching, I'll put my arm around him and when I do, he pulls himself even closer and he puts his head on my shoulder while we listen to the music.

That's another thing I like about it.

Gift Getting

I try to have all my Christmas shopping done by Thanksgiving, but this year I seem to be running behind. As I mentioned previously, ideas for presents, which normally come so easily to me, seem to be more of a struggle this year. I’m not sure why that is. Maybe it's partly because everyone has so much stuff already, maybe it’s because I’ve been dealing with other things. Whatever the reason, it's been lagging but this lag seems to be slightly improving and I'm now making some headway. Sort of.

Like most people, I guess, I do much of my shopping online and when I stop to think about it (which I try not to do) I feel a little bad about it. I'm one of the multitude of people who are contributing to the decline of the malls and small-town establishments. I'm not all that upset about the malls. Other than when the kids were little, I’ve never been a big fan of the malls. It's not that I hope for their demise or anything, but this time of year especially, they're filled with people. People are not my thing. 

I kind of like my small town, though. I even like some of the people in it. When the kids were little, I enjoyed bundling up on a cold winter night and taking them out to several of the stores, in search of presents for them to buy for the people on their lists. For a few years, I would have each of them pick out a toy to contribute to the Toys for Tots campaign.

Now, with the three older kids having the nerve to live their own lives, I don't have that chance to walk around town with then at Christmastime. But there's always Sam. 

As recently as last year, Sam and I would bundle up and head out together to do some Christmas shopping for the people he was buying presents for. But this year, Sam bought all of his Christmas gifts from a tag sale which was being held at Grandma's retirement community. So this year, when it comes to Christmas shopping, he's all set. 

So, my choices for doing Christmas shopping are to shop with Sam (which could be a problem,) shop alone (which holds no appeal to me at all) or shop online (which holds little appeal to me, but it’s easy, relatively speaking.)

I’m not going to shop alone - even if I wanted to (as it turns out.) When I tried to scoot out the other day, just to grab a quick gift, Sam asked where I was going. I told him that I was going to run a quick errand and I'll be right back and it was ok if he didn’t want to go with me and he can go on the computer instead. He said he would use the bathroom real quick and come along. 

So, that didn’t work. 

The problem with Christmas shopping with Sam is not the actual shopping with Sam (which I enjoy quite a bit.) The problem is Christmas shopping with Sam - when I’m the one trying to buy the gifts.

I can’t really buy Christmas presents in front of Sam because the thing is, I'm not sure how Sam feels about Santa Claus. Sam’s well past the age where this shouldn't even be a consideration. But Sam is Sam and like my other kids, I'll let him believe in the things he wants to believe in, for as long as he wants to believe in them. And for Sam, when it comes to Santa and almost everything else, I think he likes things just the way they are. 

So, anyway, other than the gifts that I pick up throughout the year, this year, I've been doing most of my shopping online... with varying degrees of success.

One gift I ordered, which, by the way, was a little difficult to find, finally arrived the other day- or at least the box finally arrived. Sam brought in the mail, like usual, and, like usual, when I got home from work, he pointed out that I got a box in the mail. 

This box looked as if it have been kicked all along the route from the store right up to my front porch. The box was smashed and torn open on two ends with the tape loosely holding it together. When I picked it up, it was so light, I wondered what I had ordered. Did I order a scarf? Did I order a blanket? A sock, maybe?

I opened the box - which wasn't hard because it was pretty much falling apart - and there was nothing inside but a couple of pieces of bubble wrap. I looked at the mailing labeling, which I could barely make out, and eventually figured out what used to be in there. Luckily, after a little leg work and some back and forth, the seller agreed to refund my money and they apologized, saying that they would have replaced it -but it is no longer available. 

So that’s one thing that I had crossed off my list that I now had to put back on. 

Yesterday, when I got home from work, there was another package - this one propped up right next to Sam. Unlike every other item I ever ordered, this item didn’t come in a brown cardboard box. No, this one looks like they took it right off the store shelf, slapped a mailing label on it and shipped it out. 

There it was, exposed for all to see (and by "all," I mean "Sam.") And while the gift wasn’t for Sam, I was now faced with the same dilemma that keeps me from taking him with me when I go Christmas shopping. If he sees this under the tree on Christmas morning, then what? It looks like this one is going to have to be a birthday gift instead. 

But I'm getting there, I'm getting there. I've only got a few more presents to buy for Christmas. And then I have to wrap them all. But I can do that a little over time. And if nothing else, at least I'm ahead of the game when it comes to buying a birthday present.

Puzzler

I have a file (or three) of old artwork and writings from my old job, which were done by my kids. Today's brain teaser comes from Jake (circa 1998.) See if you can solve the puzzle...

Answer: It either has something to do with the coefficient of kinetic friction, or it's about going to lunch at Friendly's.

The Ride Home

Today's Brief Comment

A talk show was playing on the radio at work today. I was barely listening to it until, all of a sudden, one of the guys on it started to laugh. It startled me because when he laughed, it sounded exactly like Dad.

Until that second, I didn't realize how much I've missed that laugh and it surprised me that, when I heard it, I started to cry.

Miscellaneous Updates and Complaining

The cold I’ve had for the last two weeks is finally fading away. I hope. Every time I think I’m about over it, it fights its way back.

My almost brand new furnace is broken. I still have heat, but it needs an expensive fix - hopefully this week. This is the furnace that was put in by my psycho (former) plumber a little over three years ago. At the time, I needed a new furnace and I felt bad for this guy as he seemed to be struggling. He was a young guy with a young family and I wanted to help (He has since relocated.) Lesson learned on my part (maybe.)

I continue to be amazed at how out of shape I am. I raked leaves in my front yard this past Saturday - I even used a leaf blower for most of it (Yes, I know. I hate them, too.) I spent a good part of Sunday wondering why I ached so much and pretending it didn’t hurt to walk. Monday was slightly better.

Sam continues to have assistance in looking for a job. He’s had several interviews and one or two call backs, but so far, nothing has panned out. On the other hand, I don’t know if I mentioned it or not. We finally got through all of the work and submitted the ADA bus transportation application, and he qualifies- for three years, to start. That's one more hurdle down - for now anyway. Besides the everyday stuff - like following up on doctor’s appointments, I have a few other things that I need to address for him. But the next big one, I’m hoping to put off until after the holidays.

And speaking of holidays, I can’t believe Thanksgiving is next week - and Christmas is only a month after that! I’m way behind schedule on everything - cleaning, meal planning for Thanksgiving, Christmas shopping, etc. I usually have a bunch of ideas of what I’d like to get people for Christmas, but this year I have none - so far, at least. It's been bothering me because I feel like I haven't even been able to focus on it. I keep telling myself, there’s still time, there’s still time - even though I don’t feel like there is - and what little time there is, is growing shorter...

Making the Rounds

Last Tuesday night was Halloween and, like usual, Sam and I made our usual rounds - mostly in Mom and Dad’s old neighborhood, which we've been doing ever since forever ago. Sam doesn't get particularly excited about Trick or Treating, but he clearly enjoys it. Every year, I wonder why that is.

I know one of his teachers from his high school lives along the route. Sam likes to see her every year and she makes a big deal out of seeing him - which is nice, but also a little odd. Back when he was in school, there was a time where I had called his classroom to complain about her (over some incident that's not worth getting into here.) Sam was unaware of it but, ultimately, I ended up talking directly with her about what I considered to be a problem. Back then, I didn’t know that this is who it was, or if I did, it didn’t make a difference. Anyway, that was several years ago and she’s always been very nice to Sam ever since, and maybe outside of that incident, she always was. Either way, Sam enjoys seeing her.

The other place Sam likes to stop is at a house a little further down the road. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this place before. An older woman lives at this house. It used to be this older woman and her mother, but the mother passed away several years ago. Anyway, this woman gives away small stuffed animals instead of candy - which is right up Sam’s alley. This year, she was not only giving away small stuffed animals, but also a toy to go with it. The toy, in Sam’s case, is one of those plastic guns that shoots small ping pong type of balls. Unlike the stuffed animals, this is not up Sam’s alley, but he took it anyway, I'm sure to be polite.

So I get that he likes to see his old teacher and he likes to see the stuffed animal lady, but afterwards, he likes to keep going, collecting more candy. I’m not complaining, I enjoy walking around with Sam, but the thing is, for the most part, Sam doesn’t eat any of the candy.

Whatever his reasons, we finished up at those houses, plus a few more, then we headed home.

Back at home, Sam got out of his costume and went up to take his shower - but first, he slung his bag of candy over the post of the dining room chair, where it still hangs - and probably will for quite some time - right next to the bag of candy that's been hanging there since last year.

After the Rain

I mentioned in this recent post that I would try to make it back to the bike path this weekend to check out the level of the river. For one reason or another, Sam and I didn't make it back there. I feel bad about it, because I know you've been waiting to hear an exciting update.

Well, good news! While we didn't make it back there this past weekend, we did manage to squeeze in a very brief visit last night. Going there last night actually worked out better because, along with a couple of days of rain at the end of last week, we had a bad storm go through here just the night before - so this made checking out the river even more worthwhile.

Anyway, here is what we found. Here's the photo of the river from the other day...

and here's a photo of the river from last night...

Here's another photo from the other day, this one looking in the opposite direction...

And another one from last night...

Big difference, right? So there you have it, more rain = higher rivers. Who would have thought? (You may want to write that down.)

Along with the water level, there's a couple of other things that I discovered.

First of all, as I mentioned previously, trying to go for a walk along this bike path on a late autumn afternoon or evening, is nearly impossible and this just confirms it.  Yesterday, for example, I rushed home from work, got Sam a quick dinner (leftovers, even!) then we rushed over to the bike path and hustled down to the iron bridge and took these pictures.

When we left home, the sun was setting, but still shining bright. In the time it took us to get there though, the sunlight was nearly gone. The daylight fades away too quickly to make it to a path which closes at dusk. (P.S. Notice that these pictures are also darker. That's another fun fact: Less sunlight = darker photographs.)

The other thing I noticed is that crossing the iron bridge over seemingly calm waters is much easier (which is not to say, "easy") than crossing one over violent, torrential waters. There's something about hearing the roar of the water rushing by, and seeing all the logs and debris washing helplessly downstream that causes me some discomfort. 

When I was on the bridge last night, I was more than happy that it was getting dark because it gave me an excuse to get off the bridge and head back home.

More Sunday Strolling

This picture was also taken last Sunday. It was taken a couple of hours after our walk along the bike path. After our walk along the path, Sam and I were originally planning on visiting Grandma, but we called and she wasn’t going to be around. This left us some unplanned free time.

I don’t know what possessed me to, but I asked Sam how adventurous he felt. He asked why and I asked him if he felt like walking up Mt. Sugarloaf - which was only a few miles from where we were at the time. I couldn’t believe those words were coming out of my mouth, but before I could fudge the question, Sam said, “Sure!”

So we headed over to Mt. Sugarloaf and as we drove, I mentally ran through my best options for weaseling out of this commitment. Because it was a beautiful fall day, the traffic was heavier - which was due to all of the people coming from the various cities to see what leaves look like. And because of this, the drive over took us a little bit longer. Ordinarily, I would be in a borderline rage over this, but this was fine because it gave me a little more time to think of excuses.

As it turned out, these crowds offered the best and most obvious excuse for not taking a leisurely stroll up the side of a mountain. As we drove, I began peppering our conversation (and by “conversation”, I mean just me talking) with leading comments like, “Boy, there sure is a lot of traffic today. I’m not sure this is going to work out” and “I don’t know, Sam. There’s a lot of traffic today. Sugarloaf is probably going to be crowded.” and “I’m not sure we’re going to be able to find a parking spot.” Each time, I glanced over at Sam to see if he was taking all of this in. Each time, I strained to convey the appropriate amount of disappointment, all the while mentally repeating, “Oh please. Oh, please.”

When we got to Sugarloaf, the parking lot was indeed packed. Cars were circling around, looking in vain for empty parking spaces. I strained to contain my mixture of relief and elation and I started to say, “Oh well, that’s too bad, looks like they're full…” but before I got the words out of my mouth, Sam pointed and said, “Look! There’s someone pulling out!” And sure enough, there, right in front of us, was someone leaving. I had no alternative but to park the car.

Sam and I got out of the car and we started our way up the mountain. As we went, I wondered how it was that those words came out of my mouth. How did this seem like a good idea to me? I wondered what it is that goes on in the brain of someone who is out of shape, color blind, and doesn’t like heights, to cause them to come up with the suggestion that somehow it might be a good idea to walk up the side of a mountain and look at some foliage.

I had no answers. Instead, I spent the rest of the climb trying to breath and trying to avoid looking at the scenery below, while wondering how far my body would roll down the side of the mountain when I inevitably fell over the guardrail.

Well, I’m happy to report that, while the walk up the mountain wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, it went better than I had expected (i.e.: I didn’t die.)

Sam and I lingered at the top of the mountain long enough to snap some photos and long enough for me to get my breathing to the point where it no longer sounded like I was hyperventilating. After about forty-five minutes, we started to head back down.

On the way back down, we talked about how “that wasn’t so bad, " then about how much fun it was. (I’m pretty sure that one of us was lying.) As we walked, I continued to keep my eyes focused as directly ahead of me as possible.

When we got back to the car, Sam suggested that maybe we could do it again sometime and I told him that I thought that was a great idea.

Now, I just have to think of a better excuse.

Our Sunday Stroll

Sam and I have been packing in the walks lately. I think part of this is just liking to get out of the house for a bit. But I also think that part of this is knowing that winter is on the horizon and there’s some internal pressure to take advantage of the nice weather while we can (speaking for myself, that is.)

Lately, a lot of our weekend walks have been along the bike path, which is over in the neighboring town. This bike path is not to be confused with the bike path that we walk along that's in the other neighboring town - that’s the path that follows the canal. The one that I'm talking about is the path that starts at the train yard and snakes through the woods before coming to an old iron bridge which crosses the river.

This time of year, we save the train yard path for the weekends. By the time I get home during the week, the late autumn daylight fades too quickly - certainly too quickly for walking along wooded paths which empty into secluded train yards (speaking for myself, that is.)

Anyway, due to the overwhelming response to the photos of the previous post (I'm kidding, of course,) here's some more photos for you to enjoy, these from this past Sunday...

Here’s a picture taken along the path, heading toward the iron bridge (which is out of sight in this photo.) The bike path usually isn't very crowded and Sunday was no exception. But it seemed like every time I went to take a picture, somebody I didn't know would appear on the horizon. I’m not a big fan of people - especially people I don’t know, so the last thing I want is a photograph of someone I don’t know, ruining the photo by being in it. I finally managed to time this one right and got a nice photo of nobody.

A little ways down the bike path, just before approaching the iron bridge, there's a field off to the right. Last year, there were strawberry bushes planted as far as you could see. This year? No trace of strawberries, but plenty of pumpkins. I suspect that this is somehow a statement on the past election, I just haven't figured out the precise message.

Here's a view of the iron bridge, or what I used to think of as "The Rickety Bridge." It turns out that the bridge isn't rickety at all! It just feels rickety because my legs are constantly shaking whenever I walk across it.

Here's a view of the river, looking south. The water's pretty low, but this was taken last Sunday. We've had two days (so far) of steady rain since then. If the rain decides to stop by this weekend, hopefully Sam and I will check it out again. Stay tuned.

Here's another view from the bridge, this time looking north. Off to the left is where the Deerfield River feeds into the Connecticut River (which is the river in these photos.) Off to the right and a little hidden, is another iron bridge - almost a twin of the one I'm on.

One difference between the other iron bridge and the one I'm on is that the one I'm on only allows foot traffic (which apparently doesn't apply to the motorcycle that went tooling by us - obviously a "rules don't apply to me" type of rebel.)

Another difference is that, despite my shaking legs, the bridge that I'm on is for the most part, sound (as far as I know.) The other bridge is in truly awful shape - yet they allow anyone who is stupid enough, to drive across it - in any vehicle they choose. I can only assume that this is done in the hopes that if a car might fall through, it won't fall through all the way - and it will therefore plug at least one of those unsightly holes.

Here's a picture I took of Sam as we headed back to the train yard.  I have nothing in particular to say about this photo, I just liked the look of the shadows and the way they contrasted with the colors of the trees. Also, I should mention that, when I said earlier that I don't like people, there are, of course, some exceptions.

Early Morning Along the River

Old Cars and Photographs - Part Three

One early and dark spring morning, I was heading down the highway on my way to work, when all of a sudden, something appeared in my headlights. Before I could react, I crashed into this “something” - which went into, under, and over my car. When I managed to pull over on the side of the highway and not have a heart attack, I looked around to see what I just hit. There, over in the median, were some partial coils of thick metal construction mesh - the kind that's used when pouring concrete sidewalks. The partial coils must have fallen off of some construction vehicle and were now knocked safely out of the way by my car, but they were still vibrating from our collision - almost as much as I was.

After regaining my composure and my breath, I got back in my car and drove the rest of the way to work. As I drove along, I noticed that my car was making a strange clicking sound, and as I went further, there was the beginnings of a low rumbling noise coming from somewhere underneath.

The sun was coming up when I got to work. Getting out of my car, I could see not only a chip in my windshield, but also an abundance of scratches covering the front end of my car - including my dented-in hood.

Over the coming weeks, the noises increased in both volume and frequency. Getting rid of them seemed to elude even the best mechanics - well, mine anyway. No sooner would I get one of the noises fixed, then another noise would crop up - and before long, the previous noise would return - only worse. My car was sounding like, and smelling like, a loud, poorly maintained motor boat. 

Before too long, my car not only sounded and smelled like a motorboat, it began handling like one, as well. Rather than feel like it was gripping the road, it began to feel as if it was floating over the pavement - and not in a good way. Even a straight drive required constant steering as the car tended to float from one side of the lane to the other.

As the months passed, the car got louder and louder. It finally approached the time where I had to bring it in for the annual inspection. Under normal conditions, there was no way the car was going to pass inspection - just by looks alone. But to make it even worse, after the end of the month, the state was changing the inspection process, making it even more difficult. This meant that if I waited until my current sticker expired, the likelihood that my car would pass became even more of a fantasy.

So, I developed a Master Plan. Step One of my Master Plan was that I was going to wait until the very last day of the month - and then get the car inspected. I figured if (and by “if”, I mean “when”) they gave me a rejection sticker, it would give me another 30 days to drive the car. That was Step One. There was no Step Two.

So, the last day of the month arrived and it was time to get it done. Before heading out, I told my co-worker that I was leaving to get my car inspected. He made a few sarcastic remarks, clearly relishing the idea of the inevitable failure which lay ahead. 

I drove a few miles over to a neighboring town, to an out of the way inspection station. I had never been to this particular station before but I had been told that “those guys will pass anything.” I figured I would put this to the test.  

By the time I got to the station, it was raining pretty heavily. I took my place at the end of a line of about twenty other cars. Each car was of similar quality to my own. Each owner apparently had the same Master Plan. After a moment or two, a woman pulled behind me, her car sounding no better than mine. I glanced over at her and she gave me a brief, embarrassed smile, as if to say, "Yeah, me too. Please don't tell anyone I was here." 

It felt like we were all waiting outside of the principal's office, or waiting for our homework to be returned with the inevitable bad grade. I sat in line in this exclusive club and watched as the dark clouds rolled above and listened as the rain beat down on the roof of my car- and I waited for the inevitable death sentence.

As the rain poured down, I glanced in the side view mirror and I noticed that the gasket of the door behind me was coming off. It was now sticking out the side of the car. Just what I needed - one more thing to draw attention to my sub-par car - as if the dented-in hood, plethora of scratches, smell of exhaust and the rumbling and ticking noises weren't enough. I figured I better deal with the protruding door gasket, so I got out of my car, into the driving rain, and I started to yank on it, attempting to rip it off the car. As the rain poured over me, I saw that same woman watching from the car behind me. She had that same sad, embarrassed smile - but this time, it was for my benefit.

After several minutes in the pouring rain, I managed to rip off a portion of the offending gasket and I threw it on the floor of my back seat. I got back in my car, dripping wet, but satisfied that I had just increased the possibility of my passing the inspection.

One by one the cars slowly advanced until finally, it was my turn to drive into the inspection station.

This particular inspection station was set up in what looked like an old, open ended barn. You would drive your car in one end, park the car (leaving the engine running,) the inspector would scrape off your old sticker and then proceed with the inspection. Part, if not all of the inspection was about checking the emissions. This was done by taking a long probe which was hooked up to some kind of a computer monitor, and shoving the probe into the tailpipe of the car for a period of time - basically the automotive equivalent of a colonoscopy. After as couple of minutes, they would remove the probe, put a new sticker on your windshield and you would drive out the other end of the barn.

I pulled in and the inspector came over, took my money, and he scraped off my old sticker.

So, I'm sitting in my now sticker-less car with the engine rumbling away, trying to act cool - and trying not to inhale my diesel-like exhaust. And I'm watching in my rear view mirror as the guy sticks the probe into the tailpipe of my car. He’s standing there, staring at the computer monitor... and waiting. After maybe a minute or so, I see him scowl at the monitor and he turns and scowls down at the probe, and then I see him lean over and look at the back of my head through my rear window. Then I see him turn back to the monitor and tap it a couple of times - then he repeats this pattern for a couple of more times.

Finally, I see him take the probe out of the tailpipe, and he takes it over by the computer monitor. While staring at the monitor, he proceeds to start swinging the sensor around in the air. After several minutes of swinging this thing, he finally stops, presses a couple of buttons, then puts the probe back in it's holster. He comes over and opens my passenger door - and then he slaps a new sticker on my windshield and tells me that I'm all set. My car had passed. I was good for one more year.

My Master Plan had worked better than I expected. Rather than get a mere another thirty days of use out of my motorboat-like car, I was now good for another full year. As if that wasn't enough good news, when I got back to work, my co-worker was waiting for me. He could barely contain himself. He asked me how I made out with the inspection and when I told him that it had passed, his smiling face immediately melted into anger. To this day, I can still hear him as he slapped his desk and yelled, "There's no justice in this world!" Apparently, he had just had his car inspected the week before, and it had been rejected - due to a burned out license plate bulb.

Thankfully, there were no more incidents the following year - not with my car, anyway. But it was obvious that getting through any more inspections was completely out of the question - assuming my car would even make it another year.

Well, it did make it another year, but just barely.

Almost exactly a year after that inspection, it was time to send the car off to the junkyard. I had made arrangements with a towing company to bring it to a mechanic who, for some unknown reason, was willing to take this poor car off my hands. No more dealing with futile repairs. No more feeling the rumblings below my feet as I drove down smooth roadways. But no more running errands together or picking up and dropping the kids off at school. Not in this car, anyway.

It had been raining the day before the tow truck came and the rain continued into the night. Jake was almost ready to hop into bed when he suddenly realized that the car would be gone the next day. Since he, like other people I know, gets attached to these kinds of things, I told him that we could go outside and take a picture of him with the car. That way, he would have something to remember it by.

So, just before I put him to bed, Jake and I went outside. And in the rain and the darkness, he stood by the car while I took a picture.

Old Cars and Photographs - Part Two

 Part one of this exciting saga appears here, otherwise...

The first strike against my old car came one day at my “old work.” I was up in the office, diligently working away when, at one point, I thought I heard the sudden but brief sound of rustling leaves outside. It seemed a little odd, but I ignored it until a few minutes later when one of the employees came into the office and said, “Hey, do you know there's a big branch lying across the hood of your car?” I went over to the window to look, and sure enough, a giant branch from the neighbor's tree was laying across my now dented-in hood.

Somehow, this came to the attention of The Boss. The Boss of the company was located in offices at a separate division, about a half a mile away. It was unusual for him to be involved in my division at all, and if he was, it was either because of something very good (rare) or something not very good at all (not as rare.) When he somehow heard about this incident, he decided it was important enough to make one of those rare, personal appearances at my division. Based on the previous aforementioned history, this could mean that he was either coming down to make sure that I was ok - and to give me a substantial amount of money - not only repair my car, but to also reimburse me for the inconvenience - or it might mean something else. I was pretty sure it meant something else.

Until The Boss came down the following day, I was left to guess what it was he wanted. Was he worried that somehow, I might try to sue him?  Was he worried that perhaps the tree branch damaged my car in such a way that it was now leaving unsightly oil stains all over his property?  No, as it turned out, he came down to personally convince me not to bother the neighbors by asking them pesky questions such as, who was their insurance company.

The reason for his concern was that apparently The Boss was planning on selling the building - and he didn't want me to "make any unnecessary waves" with them. (Tip: When your boss talks about selling the building where you work, he might not be looking to re-locate.) He figured, probably correctly, that when he put the building on the market, "making waves" with the neighbors might make it even harder to dump the place. From my point of view, the neighbors - or rather, their tree, were the ones making the waves. But me, being the company man that I was, didn't make the "waves" and therefore I didn't get paid - from the neighbor - or anyone else - to fix my dented-in hood. Instead, I drove around in a car with a dented-in hood for the remainder of it’s days.

Not long after, the Boss did indeed manage to sell the building - and  therefore slowly closed down my  division. This led to me starting a new job which, instead of it being a mere three miles or so commute from home, it was now a commute of somewhere around 20 to 25 miles. No big deal, but this commute meant traveling the highway, also no big deal - but it led to the second big blow for my car.

Spotted on Our Errands

I'm glad to see the grocery store is finally getting around to setting up their Christmas display.

Old Cars and Photographs - Part One

Speaking of old cars of mine and favorite old photographs, here’s something that incorporates both...

One rainy night, back in October of the year 2000, I took a picture of  Jake standing in front of our old Subaru station wagon. That car, probably more than any of my other cars, had been through a lot- most of it was good, some of it- well, not quite so good. 

On the positive front, it was one of the cars that the kids grew up with. We ran many of our weekend errands in that car. Back then, the weekend errands included not only going to the grocery store and swinging by the college, but it also included going to the Post Office (because I still had a post office box back then,) to the Outlet Store (where they sold food which was approaching the borderline of it's expiration date, and a lot of it that was beyond,) the videotape rental store (back in the day when there was such a thing,) and to the mall (back when I bothered to go.)

Back then, I was still working at what we refer to as my, “Old Work,” -  where, as it turns out, I would only be for a little while longer. The thing about my old work was that we worked longer days, but instead of working five days, we only worked four (having nearly every Friday off). This meant that every weekend was a longer weekend, which meant spending more time with the kids.

Sure, the kids were in school most of those Fridays, but the school day was shorter than a work day, so it meant that I got to drop them off and pick them up from school on those nearly every Fridays. And it meant doing things together in the afternoons and early evenings. And on their vacations, it was an extra day for us to spend together - running those errands that I mentioned, and more. A lot of time was spent together in that car.

While all of this was going on, my “old work” was dying a slow, painful death. And for this story it matters, because it leads into this poor old car’s rougher days ahead.

Spotted on Tonight's Walk

This doesn't look suspicious at all.

Brief Update

I have what's turning out to be a long, rambling post (which is the only kind of long post I write) - which I will get around to posting someday. Maybe.

Right now, it's looking like the only way it will see the light off day is if I break it up into sections and I post a little of it at a time.

The only problem with this is that I may get to the end of it, get frustrated or decide it's junk - and then have to go back and delete all of the posts that proceeded it. But, we'll give it a try.

Soon.

Possibly.

Unless I change my mind.

Mass Confusion

Some guy named "Paul" called Sam the other afternoon. Apparently, Paul is someone at one of the places where Sam has submitted an application. As Paul was talking, Sam edged closer to me and it was clear that he had a hard time following all of what Fast Talking Paul was saying. While Sam was still struggling to follow the one-sided conversation, I could see Sam's growing dismay. When it sounded like Paul was wrapping up the lightning quick conversation, I mouthed to Sam, "Why don't you tell him that Margit will touch base with him tomorrow?" - which Sam did, right before Paul hung up. 

Margit is one of the support people working with Sam and one of the things she's been helping him with is trying to find a job. Sam would be working with Margit the following day.

The next day, I called Sam to see how he made out with Margit. "Fine," said Sam. which is the usual answer. I asked him if he told her about Paul and Sam said,, "Oh. I forgot." - which is also the usual answer. I suggested that after he had his lunch, maybe he could send a quick email to Margit to let her know about it. He thought sending an email was a good idea and told me that he was going to finish eating first, and that he would "see me later on."

A couple of hours go by, then I get a text from Margit... 

Passing Time

Hmmm. I used to occasionally shop here when I moved out this way. This would have been somewhere around thirty-five years ago. Of course, it’s been about thirty years since I was last there.

I swung by the other day when I happened to be in the area. I was going to say I didn’t know what to expect, but I guess I expected it to be exactly like it was the last time I had been here.

It’s not.

It was never in the best of shape, certainly not brand new when I lived out this way- but now it's closed, long closed form the looks of things, and in disrepair.

Thirty years ago, this used to be a small general store which, at the time, was run by an older couple. Inside, there were tall shelves stacked to the ceiling with canned goods and there was a small, old time butcher shop - complete with an old, well-worn butcher block counter. Off to one corner was a closet sized post office, caged off from the rest of the store.

I was surprised to see that this place was closed and I was surprised that I felt sad about it. I'm sure the older couple that used to run it have long since passed away. Where did that post office go? Did the store stay open for a while after the old couple were no longer around or did it slowly fade away?

I don't have good luck when it comes to visiting places from my past. More often than not, I'm left disappointed or sad. Some places, such as our old vacation spots, I know to avoid. But some places surprise me, like this one. I didn’t think it held any particular sentimental value for me. It was, after all, only a grocery store.

Maybe, when I leave somewhere, I have an unconscious expectation that time and life stops simply because I don’t happen to be around - and when I return, if I return, I’m disappointed to find out otherwise.

I guess I prefer to believe that no matter how long it's been, life in these places exists unchanged, frozen in time since I was there last- even when it's a place like this and even though my last visit was only thirty years ago.

Friday Night Video

Since this is the last day of summer and since I don't have a lot to say, let's listen to another song by Chris Rea.

(Plus, I'm still trying to get this custom size video embedding correct. But on this one, it doesn't really matter...)

End of Summer

Tonight, Sam and I went for our traditional End of the Summer ice cream cone. We're a little later this year than usual. In years past, I always brought him on the last day of his summer vacation - the eve of his first day of a new year at school. I figured it would hopefully ease his nerves, or at least distract him from his anxiety over the day and days ahead.

But we're running later this year because this is the first year that Sam isn't going onto school. And today, being the last day of summer, was our last chance to have an ice cream in our send-off to the summertime.

So, off we went - to continue our tradition together, to spend a little time together and to hopefully distract from the anxiety of the days ahead. The only difference is, this time, the anxiety I'm talking about is mine.

Cultural Update

Here's a couple of interesting articles* related to my earlier post on the new wax museum in Boston.

Both articles have several photos of some of the wax "likenesses" featured throughout the museum (and by "likenesses," I mean that in some cases, the skin tone is almost close, in places.)

This first article is a little bit shorter than the next one, but it's still worth reading (in a relative sense.)

This second article is a little longer, but I think it might give a better flavor of the entire experience.

You're welcome.

*This assumes that you have no life and that for some god unknown reason, you have any interest in this kind of thing at all.

Another Year, Another Fair

It's was Fair season again this past week. I don't have a whole lot to say about it that I haven't said before (here and here, for instance.) The fair and the parade don't change a whole lot from year to year, but there are small differences. Some of it's good, some of it isn't.

One good thing about the parade this year is that Rachael was able to attend - probably for the first time in several years. She was in town briefly due to being called up for jury duty (for which she was excused. Take that, "Civic Duty!") This made for some good banter as we waited for the parade to begin, especially when some guy came down the crowded sidewalk wearing some homemade signs on his front and back which read, "Foot Power." He also wore a poorly made cardboard car, which was held up by suspenders, strapped on him, not unlike one of those barrels that broke people wear in the comic strips.

I don't know where this guy came from but if he was trying to convince anyone that "foot power" was the way to go, he wasn't making a very convincing case of it. His legs seemed to be doing an awful lot of waking but he wasn't getting very far. He spent most of his time in some kind of slow motion march, waving his jazz hands at people who, like me, mostly avoided eye contact. After about twenty minutes, he finally made the fifty feet or so down to the corner of the street where I thankfully lost sight of him. So, that was pretty good.

I guess another good thing about the parade was that I once again didn't see the oft mentioned creepy Clown for Jesus this year. For those of you not in the know, this clown (literally) was someone (Man? Woman?) who used to march along, handing out fliers and stickers for his/her church while also making crosses out of balloons. There's something about that which has always seemed weird to me.

And another good thing about the parade this year was that they managed to keep the bulk of the heavy trucks clustered together at the end of the parade. I don't have anything against heavy trucks - except when I'm stuck behind one going to or from work, but I don't need to see a string of them driving along float-less in a parade.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure that there was someone in the parade who was, for some reason, handing out raw potatoes. I can't imagine the bitter disappointment of being a little kid, watching the parade go by in hopes of catching a piece of candy - and instead ending up with a raw potato.

Other than that, I don't have much to say about the parade. I took a grand total of three pictures this year - a new record low for me. And of those three photos, two of them have nobody I know in them. The other one has only the backs of people I know. Still, I probably won't delete them, "just in case."

I also don't have much to say about the Fair itself. It was pretty much the standard routine for us, as well. I think maybe the only difference for us this year was that, due to Sam aging out, it was the first time in years that no one from the family had anything entered in the kids exhibition hall. But we went in and looked around anyway, for some reason of which I'm still not clear.

Like last year, we went to the pig races again. This, along with getting French fries, was the only thing that Sam had said he wanted to do at the Fair. So, after a little walking around, we headed over to the stands to watch the racing pig show. This show, like last year, not only featured some racing pigs, but it also featured a swimming pig named "Swifty." I'm not sure what the story is, but this year's Swifty was considerably younger than last year's.

Where the previous Swifty was reluctant to get in the water - choosing instead to poop on the platform, this year's Swifty wasn't given the choice and was basically dipped in the water by one of the ring leaders. I wanted to ask what happened to last year's Swifty, but I think it's probably one of those things that you're better off not knowing.

Other than that, it was the standard fare (fair?) of walking down the midway and avoiding the vendors, and walking through the exhibition buildings and avoiding the vendors. We had our usual tub-o-French fries and later, some distinctly under-cooked monster onion rings (small onion + massive mounts of batter.) Before heading out and getting the usual fried dough and cotton candy for the ride home (of which I abstained), we walked down past the rides, not going on any of them again, just like last year. Helaina pointed out that there was no Ferris wheel this year, and even though I wouldn't have gone on it anyway, that's one of those changes that feels like a loss. And to honest with you, I'm a little bitter about it.

On the way out, we stopped and watched as a frightened little kid go stuck half way through a gym-type "ride." On our first stroll past this ride, the kid was looking to get off through the entrance. But some time between our first pass and now, he had been convinced  to hold his sister's hand and give it a try. He hesitantly made it about half way through, up to an upper tier where he must have said whatever a three year old's equivalent is of , "Screw this" (which in this day and age is probably, "Screw this.")

Freezing up, refusing to hold his sister's hand and beginning to cry, all must have seemed like better options to him because that's what he did - and I don't blame him one bit. The woman who ran the ride ended up climbing up to carry him down which seemed to comfort him considerably. I didn't even know the kid, but I was proud of him for trying.

Finally ready to leave, we stopped to get our wristbands. The wristband lets you get back into the fair on the same day, without having to pay - should you decide to return. We seldom come back - having done so maybe only a couple of times over the years, but we usually get a wristband, anyway. This year was no different.

And like just about every other year, we didn't make it back. But that's ok. I'm pretty sure that next year, we'll be doing it all over again.