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All Relative.

J.P and Jennifer

Earl is out of town in New England tonight on business. Suspiciously, when I called him to see how things were going, he informed me that he was currently winning at Foxwoods Casino in eastern Connecticut. “I thought your meetings were in Massachusetts and Vermont.” “They are.” I guess the casino was a stone’s throw away or something.

But that’s another blog entry.

Since Earl was out of town and my sister is back from Russia, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to meet up with my mother and her for supper tonight. So I trekked off to Syracuse after work.

Mom had a hair appointment after work, so Jennifer and I met up and caught up over a couple of beers and some munchies. She told me about living in Russia for eight months and all that entailed, I shared with her stories about recently traveling to Virginia and what’s been going on while she was gone. Mom joined us a little later (with a spiffed up ‘do) and we enjoyed some good conversation over supper. I know Tully’s is a chain of restaurant, but they seem to have a stamp of “Syracuse” on them, and I’ve mentioned before that I’m very “Syracuse Proud”.

It may be the beer in me that’s getting me all sentimental but I guess I’m a lucky guy to have a sister that I can call one of my best friends. When we were growing up, she always joined me on my little schemes, whether it was rearranging trees in the woods behind the house, jumping over the electric fence to do our own version of running with the bulls in the pasture or setting up a play grocery store, complete with express checkouts, in the basement. Hell, she even sang Linda Mc Cartney’s part in “Silly Love Songs” when I decided I want to sing a number one track while using the wood pile as a soundstage. Now that we’re adults, we tell each other just about everything and still giggle and laugh at the same things. And my mom joins right in with the conversation; she’s always been her own person and still lives up to that – I mean how many 50+ year old women decide to dress up their Saturn sedan by having flames added to the door panels?

While I miss Earl tonight as he does his business trip, I’m glad that I was able to hang out with a couple of my friends, who just happen to be family.

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New Trick.

So I come home for lunch to piano music. Well not music, but just a bonking sound coming from the piano.

Tom had run up the piano keys just as I was walking in the door. He’s never done that before.

Now he’s tearing around the house like a maniac. He jumped in his litter box, did his thing and ran out so fast the damn thing almost tipped over, then he bolted up the stairs and came back down, jumped up on the kitchen table and then bolted for the piano again but refrained from playing a second number.

I think he’s getting a little stir crazy for spring.

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No Fly Zone.

Every six months or so an idea so terrifying it strikes fear into the hearts of travelers everywhere surfaces and gets bounced about in discussion.

The airlines are thinking about allowing the use of cell phones at 10,000 feet and above.

Most everyone knows what it’s like to fly these days. You’re hurded like cattle whilst being poked and prodded en route to a giant paper towel tube. There’s never enough seats for the number of people actually planning to fly on any given flight, so it’s a crap shoot as to whether your $700 ticket will get you on the plane.

Once you’re actually on the plane, you find row after row of high-chair sized seats that are actually down low but then the realization comes that you’re suppose to sit in this chair for the next four hours or so. But only after you squish everything you’ve lugged on board into the breadbox mounted over the high-chairs. Will it fit? Don’t worry, the surly flight attendant will check, check, check and re-check again, slamming the breadbox door four or five times so that you have a headache to accompany your experience.

Then you’re given a meal that can be best described as indescribable and tastes like nothing you’ve had before. You wilt more than the lettuce did.

Then you’ll be offered some headphones to watch a movie that bombed at the theatres. All for the mere price of $700.

Now picture this carefully. Add 200 cell phone conversations of yelling, bidding, talking, chatting, screaming and laughing to this cacophony of fun.

Ladies and gentleman, now you know why Earl and I are driving across the country next month.

Just say NO to cell phones in the sky.