I was directed to We Are The Web by Joe. My. God.’s blog and of course I clicked “play” on the video. This video supports Net Neutrality and features some famous internet celebrities.
The track is pretty catchy and it’s for a good cause.
August 2006
Dr. Doolittle.
So the whole animal experience continues on. If it wasn’t bad enough that the garage, which was temporary housing for Tom, stunk to high heaven with that unmistakeable skunk smell, I padded down to the kitchen to get started for the day and found a dead bird lying at the door.
Lovely.
I look out over the swimming pool and find two beautiful deer standing next to it, ready for a picture. Except the camera is upstairs.
So I go to get the camera when I look out the front door on my way to the stairs and there are over 30 turkeys of various shapes and sizes standing in the driveway. I continue my trek to get the camera when the deer dash off and the turkeys start heading around the other side of the house.
I lost all interest in the photographic moment at that point.
So now it’s lunch time and Tom smells decent enough to be allowed in the house, but the garage is still stinking. I have bowls of vinegar all over the place, as I read somewhere on the internet that that is what you’re suppose to do. Hopefully the house will smell much better when I get home from work later this afternoon.
I think we’ll go out for supper tonight.
You Smell Pretty.
Just as I was getting ready to call it a night last night, I was suddenly treated the unmistakeable scent of a skunk. Somebody’s cat or dog had picked the wrong animal to argue with and was now paying the price.
Then I remembered Tom was outside.
The last couple of times I smelled a skunk, Tom was innocently on the front porch awaiting his chance to come in the house. Not last night though. Of course not. I turned on the lights on the back deck and there he was, eye swollen shut from getting sprayed, right in the face. I could smell him through the door.
It only happens when Earl is out of town.
I herded him into the garage (ever trying herding cats?) where he carried on like a madman and I figured out my strategy. I grabbed some old towels, finally cornered him and got him in the kitchen sink where I washed him with everything but the kitchen sink. Shampoo, dish detergent, vinegar.
He then spent the night in the garage.
This morning he doesn’t smell too bad but the garage stinks to high heaven; I think it needs to be aired out. I’m probably going to leave the garage door open all day and hope some miracle wind comes through and wipes out this stench.
Such a lovely adventure.
No Worries.
Before heading to bed last night around 11:00, I realized that I had not written a blog entry yesterday. For a fleeting moment I thought about jumping out of bed and getting back onto the computer, ready to share some witty dialog about something I had found particularly amusing yesterday. Apparently it was so drop dead funny I have completely forgotten what it was and couldn’t reconstruct the blog entry even if I tried.
I was a little thrown off my blogging routine yesterday for a couple of reasons. Earl was heading out of town on business and at the last minute invited me to join him for lunch at one of our favorite haunts, Charlie’s Pizzeria. Quite frankly it wasn’t the nooner I was quite hoping for, but a hot veggie wrap with pasta salad will do in a pinch. Plus, I was thinking it was Monday because I had taken the real Monday off and I was all confused. What the current day of the week has to do with blogging I don’t know, since I tend to blog seven days a week. But it seemed like a good excuse.
I was also still reeling from Monday’s Horrifying McDonalds Experience in which I didn’t even get any food at the restaurant, I just used the store for a pitstop and it was still a Horrifying McDonalds Experience. Let’s just say I appreciate the eco-sensibility of hot air hand dryers on the wall instead of paper towels but it really doesn’t help in the situation of no toilet paper in the bathroom stall. I don’t think I will ever forget the look on the face of the woman enjoying her mid morning coffee at the sight of me walking out of the bathroom, with a sort of John Wayne-ish/too many guns on the belt, saggy pants gait in search of napkins, and then U-turning back into the bathroom for as long as I live.
So today I’m back on my game. Earl comes home tonight, I’m feeling pretty good and I had a wonderful blog entry cooked up in my head to share with you today.
‘Tis a pity I’ve completely forgotten it.
Alone.
Earl is out of town on work. He’s expected home tonight, so that has put a little spring in my step, but gosh I miss him when he’s not home. You’d think after 10 years of this I’d be used to it, but I’m not. That’s a good thing, I suppose.
When he is out of town I get to embrace the loner side of me. I go into full geek mode and play on the computer night and day. Daily chores get tossed aside as there are too many things waiting for me in the realm of bits and bytes; web sites need to be updated, e-mail needs to be responded to and there’s a Sim City awaiting my run as a mayor without cheat codes.
As I delve into the controlled chaos of my own little world, that little sense of loneliness follows me around. It’ll be good to see Earl’s smiling face tonight.
A New Guy At The Counter.
A couple of weeks ago I was told by my supervisor that I had some vacation days I needed to burn by the end of the year and the time-off calendar was filling up fast, so I best get to it.
I got to it today, as a full-fledged Road Geek, doing research for my roads web site.
There were a couple of highlights of the trip as I traveled through the Hudson Valley, including lunch with an on-line acquaintenance (see, the internet can be a safe place to socialize if you do it properly) and supper at a wonderful diner outside of Albany.
My stomach was grumbling on the “free” (non-Thruway) stretch of Interstate 90 in Rensselaer County. It was supper time and my body was ready to be fed *now*. I could have held out until the first service area once I was back on the Thruway, but since HoJo’s left the Thruway over a decade ago, it just hasn’t been the same.
The “FOOD – EXIT 10” sign loomed ahead, announcing a smattering of fast food joints and one little gem – The East Greenbush Diner. I took the cue, exited the interstate and followed the signs to hungry happiness.
As I pulled up to the diner, it was your typical mid to late 1970s place. It looked harmless enough with a moderate number of cars in the parking lot, so I parked the Acura and went in. Traveling alone, I opted to skip a booth or a table and instead I joined “the guys” at the counter across the back. I followed the predetermined etiquette of skipping a chair or two between patrons as I sat down; a pleasant enough young waitress gave me the obligatory small glass of water, a place setting and a menu.
I took a gander around and noticed beer steins from everywhere displayed just about everywhere against the dark, dark paneling. There were other knick knacks and doo-dads displayed in a haphazard manner and the overall effect was rather friendly. The atmosphere was “homey” and for some reason I was reminded of my city grandmother’s basement, without the washing machine spinning.
Chatter at the counter had simmered down as I approached my seat.. I was an outsider. Not only was I wearing a pair of camoflauge shorts and my black “enforcer” boots, I had never been in the diner before and they knew it. A little bit of eavesdropping clued me in that the one closest to me was “Norm” (or Norm-y, depending on the waitress) and the one at the end of the counter was “Frank”. Norm was waiting for his food, Frank had just announced “the usual” as I was arriving. Apparently, these two men, both in their mid to late 50s I would guess, frequented the East Greenbush Diner frequently and were friendly with the staff. I couldn’t determine if they were widowers or somehow single otherwise, on their way home from work or perhaps in the doghouse with a wife at home refusing to cook. Whatever the reason, it must have come up often because there they were, seemingly *again*.
After my food was served, and I broke the ice with a “This veggie burger is well-done, eh?” (damn that Canadian speech coach in college) to the waitress, who smiled approvingly, the other guys continued eating and the waitresses debated how to properly make another batch of iced tea. The “fresh brewed iced-tea” somehow involved powder, a pitcher of cold water and thankfully a spoon instead of an elbow to stir it, but no one could decide how much powder to put in. After a discussion, they dumped a sizeable portion of the mix into the pitcher and made the best of it.
Norm said, “It looks like tar. And it’s gonna taste like it too.”
The waitress responded, “Just add more water, that’ll thin it out a little bit.”
Norm said, “No, once it’s bitter there’s no going back.”
The waitress nodded in my direction and said, “He’s drinking the last batch we made the same way”, then to me, “How’s it taste?”
All eyes were focused on me. I responded, “It tastes great.”
They smiled approvingly.
“And damn, it doubled the amount of hair on my chest too!”
The waitress smiled weakly and the two guys sitting at the counter laugh approvingly and nodded in my direction.
The new guy at the counter was now one of the guys.
Enchantment.
Even though it’s August 20th, there’s a cool breeze blowing tonight. It feels almost like an autumn chill. The trees in the backyard are rustling almost with that enchanting sound usually heard around Halloween, though it’s more than two months away.
I always find a certain magic in the cool breezes of autumn. It is then when I feel Mother Nature is at her most intriguing, getting this part of the Earth ready for a blanket of snow and long winter’s night. It’s my favorite season though it feels rather odd to experience when there’s still a month of summer left.
I’m hoping this is just a gentle reminder of what’s to come in a couple of months.
Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania.
Earl and I have settled in for the night in the lovely city of Wilkes-Barre, Pa. This is Earl’s old stomping ground, having spent a couple of years here in the mid 1990s. While I’ve driven through Wilkes-Barre on countless occasions, I believe this is the first time I’ve spent the night here.
Today was an enjoyable, yet relatively uneventful day at a family picnic down in Earl’s hometown. We haven’t seen most of the family since Christmas, so it was a good chance to catch up on family news, share some laughs and giggle a little bit.
We had originally intended on driving home tonight, but we were sidetracked by grumbling stomachs and a wonderful diner in a now forgotten small town in the Poconos. Nothing gets you through the Poconos like a chicken gyro and a piece of cheesecake.
Mahwah, New Jersey.
Earl and I are en route to a family picnic in his hometown near Philadelphia. We decided to take the scenic route by following the Delaware River through southern New York. Fellow roadgeek Nathan Perry has a better description of the drive than I could ever write up, so feel free to visit his site and take a peek.
Earl decided he’d had enough in the Jeep when we got outside of New York, so I jumped off the Thruway and headed into New Jersey, stopping at the first suggestion of a hotel. So tonight, we’re in Mahwah, New Jersey.
I’m not a fan of New Jersey, so I don’t know if there’s much more to say about Mahwah. Maybe daylight will help.
The Back of the BSA.
Driving home from work just now I followed a motorcycle up the street before jumping on the expressway. There’s a few lights between work and the on-ramp and this motorcycle didn’t try running the lights at all, the rider followed all the rules of the road to the letter.
He looked to be in his late 20s, muscular arms, wearing a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and an open faced helmet. He had a passenger, a young boy, presumably between eight and 10 years old. The boy had his arms wrapped around his dad, and hung on to him tightly as he displayed the utmost confidence in being a passenger on that motorcycle.
I was reminded of me being that boy thirty years ago, with my arms wrapped around my dad and with all the confidence in the world as we rode through the tiny village on his ’69 BSA.
It’s good to be reminded of those little things.
