5 Things a Day Late, 6 Sep

Yes, it's Tuesday. But I'm doing my Monday thing because I only looked at the computer for about 12 seconds yesterday, and that was after a long day of Labor. But here I am, and there you are...and even though I just quoted Neil Diamond, I hope you'll stick around for 5 Things I Think.

1) I think I need someone to handcuff me to a Playstation controller the next time a holiday comes around. I could not resist the concept of Labor on Labor day, and went apeshit on the garage of Doom. It is now again possible to walk unimpeded the length of the garage, though I expect that will not last more than a few weeks. I have a Haunted Trail to run, which means seeking all the props and masks and makeups and accoutrements that I have sequestered in the garage of Doom. As I will undoubtedly be in a mad rush, I expect the detritus of discard to create a new mine field across the concrete.
In the interest of full disclosure, I did actually spend too much time playing Dragon Age on said Playstation.

2) I think I had a good time last week near DC. I wasn't in the Capitol itself, but in a little convention area called National Harbor. I had great steak, great sushi, and several Irish Whiskeys. There was a cool Irish pub there, wherein I had a lamb sandwich while sipping whiskey while listening to an Irishman playing guitar while watching the Red Sox on TV. I felt fairly authentic, and couldn't help but sing along to "Whiskey in the Jar".
It wasn't all fun and games, and I got some work done as well. But I try not to focus on that here, lest you think I'm *GASP* responsible or some shit like that.

3) I think it was pretty sweet getting a bunch of the old gang together from the awesome thing we used to all do together. A picnic was had in the park, and of course we managed to schedule the only rainy day in 2 solid months of parching drought. It was a thing of humor and happy, as we've played in the rain before. There were more memories and stories and laughs being bandied about than I could possibly keep track of, but I soaked in as much of it as I could. It's good to smile once in a while.

4) I think you should check out The Manhattan Dolls. If you like the sounds of the 40's, those tight harmonies and sweet sounds, then you'll love them. Wifefish, Ruffstuff and I got to see them in a near command peformance, a small venue in the Great Midwest. It was quite lovely indeed. Here's a sampler of what they serve up:


5) I think I need to get some fictions posted! I've been typing furiously, and I expect to get something on your screen this week, I promise! I think I'll be posting a rant here this week, at the very least. Something twisted my knickers and I'm almost done with it...

That's 5 Things, a day late and probably a dollar short...like all of us these days. Have a fantastic week, and hurry back!

Friday Fun!

I have to admit, all the travel is whipping my ass a bit. I am behind on nearly everything, and danced with glee yesterday to cross 2 things off my "to do" list. It has grown to gigantic proportions, like some deranged shrinky-dink for adults.

This week, I was given an award by the Habitual Hobbit, who has also started his own "5 Things" tradition. Give him a read, you may well like what you see.

Over at Sprocket Ink this week,

I talked about the wildest road rage I've ever read about

AND

I ragged on the Fast and Furious fiasco. It should be the Iran-Contra hearings of our decade, but it's getting a lot of time under the rug. If you don't know about it, check it out...you won't believe the government can be this stupid.

In shit that made me guffaw elsewhere on the series of tubes, The Bloggess is being stalked by her own stuffed monkey

AND

Noa wrote an open letter to college freshmen that made me think maybe I'm not funny anymore, because she used all the laughs in the world ever.

As for me, I'm out for the weekend. I may post 5 Things on Monday, or it may happen Tuesday, because Labor Day is for being lazy, but I'll probably be attempting to cross items off of that mythical to-do list of Mordor, or I may just throw that fucking post-it into the fires of Mount Doom lest it continue mocking me.

Reach out and touch...

On Sunday, we took Little Danger on a hike at a park we’d never been to. He was strapped to my back like Yoda, and kept patting both of my shoulders every so often to express his pleasure. Occasionally he would say “UUUUH!!!” to signify a desire for a sippy cup of water. But mostly, he enjoyed it.

At the end of the hike, we took him to the playground to let him run around and enjoy himself. It bears mentioning that we then encountered a tiny miniature Pinscher, 7 weeks old and small enough to hold in one hand. It was named “Colossus.” No shit, a gerbil sized Doberman with the most ironic name EVER.

Little Danger wandered into the mulch, looking at the playground equipment the way Indiana Jones looked at Tanis…with awe and wonder and a wry smirk. I sometimes, even on the 40ish side of my thirties, feel the echo of that wonder…a tug in my core that makes me want to swing on the monkey bars or rush headlong down the slide.

As he explored, with Wifefish walking along behind like a personal parachute of safety, a little girl came up and instinctively grabbed his hand in friendship. “Look at the cute baby,” she said. “Does he like the playground?” she asked Wifefish, the unspoken volumes in that simple question roaring in my ears.

May I play with him? Will he like me? Who is he? I will protect him! I will teach him like my big sister taught me! All of these concepts nebulous, not even distinct thoughts. Just an instinct…let me hold your hand, we are alike. A little dark skinned girl, perhaps 5, and a tiny little redheaded boy, not quite 14 months. Two children, instantly gifting trust and curiosity. It was the most natural thing, as well it should be.

I have, in my life, been betrayed by people and tossed aside by “friends”. I have failed at times to be the man I want to be, and perhaps have given reason for some of those people to feel indifference towards me. And now, after being scarred a few times, I do not reach for hands. I hold them at arm’s length. How many of us do this?

We all lose friends, lose people in our lives. We all have been burned by bad people. But does that mean we must discount the actions of all we might meet and delight in? How many stories have we missed out on, being distrustful of all strangers? How many friends have we passed by, in distrust?

Truly, that mistrust can suit us well at times. That meth-head waving the knife and cackling might be a bad choice for a conversational partner. Surely we should be wary at times. But perhaps not at all times.

Watching Little Danger cast his spell of cute over people, watching otherwise wary adults lower their guard, I wonder. Watching children instinctively reach for each other’s hands, I wonder. And it is wonderful. I think it’s time for us to remember that lesson of youth.

I am going to try to follow Yoda’s advice, and unlearn that which I have learned. In this case, I am going to unlearn the art of distrust.

You’ll have to pardon me, but I’m going to reach for your hand. Metaphorically, of course…I have no desire to be maced on the subway or tased in the park. But I’ve learned a lesson from children, and I urge you to learn it with me. Reach out for one another, even if just for an hour on the playground. I bet our hearts will be better for it.

Agree with me? Let me know in the comments. And then do Little Danger and I a favor and share this one. Stumble it, facebook it, and let’s reach for some hands!

5 Things I Think, Aug 29

Another Monday has ambushed us, shredding the awesomeness of the weekend. Of course, if you’re on the east coast, your weekend wasn’t all that awesome. And that’s where I’m headed today, so I’m fairly pleased that Irene has scooted on out to sea. So here’s what I think today:

1) I think, as I always do, that a day spent at a gaming table with a bunch of friends is a day well spent. Laughter and drama abounded yesterday as Ruffstuff ran our ongoing D&D campaign. I enjoy this game, as I get to play an absolute idiot draped with more muscle than both Conans, plus O’Brien to boot. It allows me to say very funny things at the table in a complete deadpan earnestness.

2) I think that arriving in the DC area makes me think too much on politics. I think I’m going to try to dissociate my emotions from the rampant ass-habadashery I read and occasionally write about; to rise above it lest it infect me. It was exciting seeing the monuments and the Capitol, though, and it’s a shame that I won’t have time to see any sights up close on this trip. I get to see cool places sometimes for work, but often just from the hotel window. C’est la vie.

3) I think this was a bad year in the Great Midwest to have a garden. Poor Wifefish attempted to keep zucchini, cucumbers, tomatoes, eggplants, and more thriving in our garden plot. The heat and dry weather conspired to slaughter all but a few handfuls of tomato. We have a lot of work to do to make next year’s harvest more than a matter of silliness. As it stands, this year’s harvest has been more of a metaphoric middle finger than a green thumb.

4) I think it stinks how brown this fall is going to be. The dry month has forced all the trees to slump, uncaring, in the yard. There are already scads of brown, crinkly leaves coating the equally brown lawn. I wonder if there will be much color at all…perhaps an autumn road trip is in order!

5) I think that it’s important not only to teach our children, but to learn from them. There are lessons to be learned every day of our lives, and we must never stop learning. Come back tomorrow for more on this, there’s too much to put into a paragraph! Suffice to say, I learned a little something yesterday.

Bonus thought: I think copy paste has screwed this post's format, and I'm too lazy to fix it today. I hope you all have a wonderful week!

Friday Fun!!!

It's been a decent week, if not as productive as I wanted. I did have fingers of fury, though...so here's some things I want to share...

Right here, I concluded the Lake Cruise report and told a story of revenge served sweet.

At Sprocket Ink, I had a few entries this week...

There was that little Earthquake that no Californian would even notice...

A Motown Legend passed on...

And Steve Jobs quit his.


I'm working on some more fictions, but I've slowed down on them. I have a very full plate just now, and that includes working on a book that will hopefully make some dough. Well, given that it's a cookbook, it will help make dough. Selling it, that will be the challenge.

Have a great weekend, and I'll see you soon! (I'm traveling Monday, so 5 things may be late-ish.)

A Shocking Revenge

Forgiveness, they say, is divine. But I’ll never forget the day I got my revenge on Airman Zwick.

You might recall that I was a high voltage lineman when I was in the military. Working high lines, transformers, and cabling was my daily task. It wasn’t my favorite job, by far, but it served as an alternative to college…a School of Hard Knocks that hauled me out of blind adolescence kicking and screaming into adulthood.

It was my 4^th year, my final year of active duty, when Zwick committed his transgression. We were working on tear-down after a very high-level State Department event, removing a spaghetti-string generator backup contraption that amounted to triple redundancy and a lot of hot, 480 volt cables. The cabling had been color coded to avoid accidental shock.

Zwick was a fresh, 18 year old troop. He was from a new class of lineman, the "bucket babies" who hadn't learned how to use pole-climbing equipment. And he seldom paid attention.

“Go over to the generator and pull the blue cable,” I said to him. A few minutes later, he called over the radio to report the task complete, so that I could pull my end from the now safe junction box. Being in the habit of keeping all my pieces and parts firmly attached, I asked him to confirm.

“Is the blue cable detached?” I asked.

“Yes, blue,” he replied.

I had learned, in my short time working with electricity, never to take anything for granted. Rather than reaching out and grasping the lug for the blue cable, I licked the back of my hand and let it bounce off: a double-check that should have occurred with no pain or distraction.

It bears mentioning, here and now, that I have been shocked many times. I was bitten by 110 volt shocks more times in base housing than a nudist on the Mosquito Coast. I had even taken a powerful 277 volt zap once that left me sweating and checking to make sure I hadn’t pissed myself afterwards. None of these could prepare me for the coming surprise.

As the 480 volts coursed through the back of my hand, my muscles involuntarily clenched and contracted. In addition to the blinding pain now demanding the attention of my entire nervous system, I had to try to dodge my own fist flying toward my own face. I did not make my save vs. stupid self facepunch.

I thrashed like an epileptic penguin. I hit myself in the forehead and saw stars. My right arm curled temporarily into something a T-Rex would call useless. Expletives poured forth from my mouth, a stream of syllables that caused those around me to double check that there were no officers around. Big Ro, the staff sergeant supervising the job, ran to check on me.

Using my left hand, I picked up the radio.

“Zwick. Look in the box. Which cable did you pull?” I asked, every word dripping with venom.

“The red one, Dangerboy.” He hadn't done it with malice, just a very impressive lack of attention.

Big Ro slapped a hand across his face, and offered to take care of it himself. Needless to say, I checked again even after he told me blue was disconnected.

Well, that one sat on the ledger for a while. Finally came the day when I was able to cruelly inflict the lesson the youngster needed.

We found ourselves up in the tall bucket of nine-six, a 90 foot boom that could take you to great elevation. I forget what we were working on at the time, I just remember we were up fairly high. And poor, poor Zwick had told me, just days prior, that he had a problem with heights. Wrong career, buddy boy.

The fiberglass boom of a bucket truck protects you from voltage…it’s good to 100,000 volts. It is also somewhat flexible. And flexibility means there can be resonance.

Once we got up to height, with Zwick standing back to stay roughly in the center of the bucket, I began lightly flexing my feet. Just a bit, at the ankle. The effect was unnoticeable at first, the bucket responding by only moving an inch or two.

I chatted on, giving no indication of the fiendish plot I was even now enacting. I asked him to hand me a tool, and kept slightly flexing, just a little bit, finding the perfect rhythm.

“Is this thing shaking?” he asked suddenly.

I looked around, still moving the ankles. “Only a bit, just a bit of wind,” I said. I fought down a maniacal giggle.

I had found the sweet spot, and through the joy of physics, soon had the bucket bouncing up and down about 3 feet. I had yet to bend a knee, using only the feet. Zwick clutched the side of the bucket like Charlie Sheen grabs a toilet at 3 am on day 4 of a 5 day Vegas bender: desperately, afraid to fall off the planet.

“So, Zwick,” I began, conversationally. “Next time I say blue, which one you going to pull?”

“Shit, man, make it stop!”

“You going to pay attention on the job?”

“Yeah, dammit!”

“Ok then.” And I let Mr. Toad's Wild Ride stop.

I had sympathy, truly. I’d been in his boots before. So wet behind the ears I needed a towel, homesick, and a bit dumb to the ways of the world. And I’d been similarly awakened by my peers and experiences.

Still, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t fun. Sometimes, revenge is a dish best served bouncing up and down like a bungee jumper.

What about you? Ever teach a hard lesson? Or maybe learn one?

Lake Cruise 2011, part 2

After the trials and travails of even getting out of the marina, we rejoiced when we made it out onto the lake. And by rejoice, I clearly mean “had a beer.” We cruised out, discussing where we would look for our first overnight tie-off. After consulting the charts, we made our decision. Then we rejoiced again. (My more astute readers will detect a theme.)

As we neared the targeted “creek”, my brother-in-law and I hopped in the pontoon boat to go scout about, since it moves far faster than the houseboat. We grabbed a couple of rejoicing implements of the 12 ounce variety and headed off.

The finger of the lake that we scouted was quite beautiful, and also the location of the weekend party cove. We weren’t sure where said cove actually was, until we saw the big blue gorilla. That pretty well cinched it. We detoured to check out the fabled party site, though on a Sunday the revelers were mostly absent. There were “sculptures” made from loose rock on the banks, one that said simply “PARTY”, and one that was obviously a giant dong.

King Kong's 3rd cousin, Blue Dong

Primitive rock art of the giant dong variety

I submit to you that if you’ve found the giant rock cock at the big blue gorilla, you’ve found the place people go to party. We were looking for something a bit more family friendly, though.

We continued on into the back end of the finger, and found a place of beauty. Like Lewis and Clark, we had explored the waterway, and would now retrieve the rest of the family. Bringing the houseboat in, we beached and tied off, the water glass smooth and no other soul in sight. For a time, it’s our own private lake, shared not with men, but turtles, fish, birds, and bugs. A hummingbird landed on our safety line moments after we tied it off. We’d been invited to nestle to nature’s bosom, it seemed.

This, from left to right, was our yard for two days:

Impressive, yes?

We stayed in that beautiful cove for 2 days, with 2 great dinners in the evening (smoked pork and Dangerboy’s famous Vidalia Fig Duck Stir Fry.) There was stargazing, swimming, tubing, lounging, fossil hunting, and much more 12-ounce rejoicing.

My Tuesday morning started quite nicely, a hawk circling and crying out overhead as I took a lake bath. It’s interesting to note that if you shave in a school of minnows, you will not find whiskers anywhere…but you will find some very friendly fish.

Not a picture of my bath. Little Danger conserves water and helps with the dishes.

We moved on, heading to the big end of the lake. After a bit of a top off of the tanks at one of the larger marinas, we repeated the pontoon scout strategy. It was much more challenging this time around. The end of the lake we’d motored ourselves to was chock full of rental boats, and most of the good spots, and quite a few of the worst, were taken. After a bit of looking, we found an acceptable spot and marked it on GPS, which turned out to be a good idea.

We headed back out to the main lake, waved the family in on the houseboat, and headed for the cove. By the time we got back, which the GPS reported as 30 minutes, a small boat had dropped anchor, home to a couple sunbathing. Not wanting to be dicks, we asked if they intended to stay long, explaining that we’d been by to scout this spot earlier. In fairness, I did make an error and said 20 minutes instead of 30. The man jumped up like a scalded cat and yelled “Bullshit, I been here 2 hours!”

At this point, I could have called it like it was, and let his redneck ass know just what a liar I thought he was. Instead, I attempted to de-escalate quickly, saying “no problem, have a good day.” I really just didn’t care to be prickish over a piece of lake. Sadly, our new adversary didn’t share our view.

We pulled to a temporary spot within sight so we could grab the spot we wanted after they’d left. Evidently this was torture to the lying sack of shit, though, and anytime we looked over he was staring at us, sometimes through binoculars. It must have spiked his blood pressure like a fact checking session with a politician.

After no more than half an hour, he started away, then sped back, shouting at the boat. He actually said “Be careful, bad things happen at night” in a tone that can best be described as menacing…which led me to wonder momentarily if I was stuck in a Michael Bay film. Who says shit that stupid?

The dumbass actually said it as my sister in law was recording him on video, so he’d best hope nothing ever happens to the boat, his fault or not, because he’ll be doing the jail time for it.

I have to admit, I went a little apeshit. It’s the first time anybody’s ever threatened my child’s safety, seriously or just fucking about, and I was fairly enraged. We reported the incident to the water patrol, just in case, giving his boat number and all salient details.

I’m not sure what kind of karmic donkey show he’s bought himself, but it’s important to remember, kids…Don’t Be A Dick. And especially not about stupid shit.

We moved the boat to a different spot, closer to the main body of water…just to be safe. And actually, it turned out to be a much nicer location, with a beautiful view of the lake’s widest point. An indigo bunting landed in a tree nearby as we finished tying off, an echo of the hummingbird’s visit. I’ve always been a fan of beautiful birds.

The view from the top deck. (Not shopped, the sun was very bright.) Those are Wifefish's knees.

The night was capped by a stargazing session, counting satellites and ID’ing them with a cool app on bro’s iPad, and a deep philosophical conversation between myself and my mother in law…all were a treat.

We spent a second day in this spot, as well, seeking refuge from a heat more oppressive than the anger of a jealous god. Between triple digit heat and humidity like Satan’s underpants, the A/C was cranked, and we spent a good amount of time in the water sucking on margaritas and beers.

Little Danger beats the heat in his floating contraption.

We finished off the cruise by heading back in to the extended family of Pier 2. Our Friday was spent goofing off, then bouncing from boat to boat before hosting a cook off challenge. The feast was phenomenal, including fried striped bass, Italian spiced salmon, beef brisket smoked for about 5 hours, hoe cakes, and more. So….much…more.

Our marina does not lack for personality. Yes, that's a wakeboarding dog.

In truth, I ate entirely too much food. Fortunately, there’s no such thing as entirely too much friendship, so a night spent jabbering with everyone in the floating neighborhood was a grand night indeed. It was a great way to end a damn fine cruise.

And so, we had a fantastic time on a budget. And even had we not had access to a houseboat, renting one on the lake is typically not a ridiculously expensive endeavour. You, too, can have your own lake cruise if this account sounds any good at all. Just be sure to rejoice safely.