Just a little video as I cross the Ben Franklin Bridge into Philly.
[MEDIA=42]December 2007
Viva The Garden State.
I said something to Earl this evening that absolutely startled him. Hell, it even startled me. I couldn’t believe the words came out of my mouth.
“I would consider moving to New Jersey.”
As I write this, I can’t believe that I just typed that phrase. You see, I have told Earl that I would live anywhere in the world with him. I’d climb the highest mountain, cross the widest sea and scale the longest desert. But don’t put me in New Jersey. That was the rule. “We will not live in New Jersey.”
I’ve been in New Jersey twice today. With Earl’s family less then five miles from the Pa.-N.J. border, it’s a natural thing for us to cross the bridge in search of cheap gas. After all, there’s a lot of diners in Jersey.
I find nothing in common between North Jersey and South Jersey. The accent is different and the attitude seems to be a little different. This evening I went shopping at Cherry Hill Mall (Cherry Hill, N.J.), while Earl played poker with his family (quick little video coming when we get back home). I didn’t find the experience unpleasant. Once I found Cherry Hill, made numerous right turns to turn left and fought a smattering of traffic, I found my shopping experience to be a pleasant one. I found that last extra Christmas gift that I hope will bring a twinkle to Earl’s eye on Christmas morning.
It was leaving Cherry Hill Mall that I discovered something very important with my acceptance of New Jersey as a potential residential destination. They have Wegmans. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, there’s a brand new beautiful Wegmans in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. Since there’s a Wegmans there, it has to be a cool place. So I have decided to allow South Jersey to be a potential relocation destination.
Earl just rolled his eyes.
Holiday Rerun: Deck The Halls With Vomit.
Since Earl and I are currently preparing for a weekend with his family in Philly, I thought it was appropriate to repost one of my blog entries from my baby blogger days. From 2001, here’s “Deck The Halls With Vomit.”
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This Christmas marks the sixth festive holiday season that Earl and I have been together. Let’s see… 1996 was 1, 1997 was 2, 1998 was 3, 9, 00, 01, yep it’s the sixth holiday season together. I always lose track, because our fifth anniversary is the day after Christmas, so that makes six.
Where were we now. Oh yes, it’s the holiday season once again in our merry little household. The tree is decorated so festively. The outside lights have been up since the weekend after Thanksgiving, and are now blowing fuses left and right. (I don’t know whose idea it was to decorate the 25 foot pine tree in the middle of our yard, but why did we put the connecting plugs at the top?) The tinny little caroling voices are screaming through Mr. High Fidelity and No Bass Speaker in the mall. Jingle BELLS Jingle BELLS, JINGLE ALL THE WAY. All of these are wonderful clues that it’s the most wonderful time of the year. But the real cincher on the arrival of holiday spirit is my partner Earl. God love him, his body just falls apart at the thought of the holidays. It’s like his warranty has expired or something.
Our first Christmas together, he warned me. “I always get sick around the holidays. Actually Rick (his youngest brother) and I take turns, he gets sick one year, I get sick the next.” And to think I was marrying into this festive little family the day after Christmas! The giddiness of it all! Because the way the holidays fell that year and because our families weren’t quite adjusted to their newest couple, Earl went to Pennsylvania for his family’s Christmas, I went up north to my folks and then met up with him Christmas afternoon. “I was sick yesterday, but I feel great today, since you’re here sweetheart.”
So I made it through a holiday season without actually witnessing “The Near Death holiday experience”.
The following year he was just stopped up in the sinuses a little bit. I reminded him, “Isn’t it Rick’s turn?”
“Aren’t you cute,” he replied, and proceeded to suck up the entire boxes of Kleenex into his nose. Had I not been holding his baby niece, she probably would have followed the Kleenex. The honk was heard as far away as Peoria, Illinois.
I don’t even want to mention the holiday season of 1999. Let’s just say I should have decorated the toilet seat instead of the bay window.
Last year, as we were getting ready for a Christmas party at my father’s, he broke the news to me.
“I’m having a stroke”.
“So soon? We haven’t even gotten the Christmas shopping done yet and the bills won’t be here for a month, how could you be having a stroke already?”
“You know, you’re going to feel really rotten when I drop dead into this wretched egg nog.”
“How do you know you’re having a stroke? Do you feel like Grandma Walton in that 1960s version of the Waltons movie?” I asked, trying to sound sincere.
“You know, you could show a little more compassion for a man who’s having a stroke. My left arm is numb.”
“Well then, it can’t be a stroke if it’s your left side. It’s got to be a heart attack”, I said, with all the wisdom of Nurse Needles.
“No, I’m not having a heart attack”, he nearly hissed back at me. I didn’t even know he could hiss. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
So I didn’t.
I don’t like to sound insincere or uncaring, but I think that the inner child in him gets so worked up with excitement about the holidays that his body can’t take it or something. Maybe it’s because I have a somewhat twisted philosophy on sickness. I simply refuse to be sick. I won’t do it. I won’t catch a cold, I won’t harbor pneumonia and I refuse to take part in a flu epidemic. I am going to trudge through life healthy and that’s just the way it is. I try to introduce him to my philosophies on the matter, but he’s not having any of it.
This morning I noticed he started sniffling, so I suggested “Try some of the Echinacea. It suppose to boost your immune system. Or maybe you want to start building up on Cold-Ezze”.
“I hate that stuff. It tastes awful.”
“Yes, but sweetheart, maybe it’ll herd off this cold that you seem to be catching.”, I replied, trying my best to be the doting lover.
“No, I’m going to have a cold. It’s because of the holidays.”
Tonight we went on one of our annual “Ride Through The Snobby Section of Town and See The Lights” rides. Since today was such a beautiful, mild day, I took the opportunity to vacuum and clean the car, and I put an air freshener in it.
“That air freshener is a bit over powering, isn’t it?”, he nearly snarled.
“Why don’t you wrap it up in a napkin and put it in the glove compartment?”
He wrapped it up like a dead minnow and shoved it in the glove compartment, underneath all the manuals and everything. He then rolled down the car window and hung his head out like a sick dog. Since we live in Upstate New York, and it’s winter, I needn’t point out that it was 30 degrees. “You are going to get sick if you keep up the dog routine. Shut the window!”
As we held hands and enjoyed the beautiful Christmas displays, I noticed he was sniffling more and more. So we headed home, had a mug of hot chocolate each, and then I announced I was going upstairs to update the website.
“I’m going to watch a little television”.
I had just started up the internet connection when he dropped the news.
“My leg is numb.”
Always the concerned lover, I went downstairs and dug my fingernails into his leg.
“Ouch! What the hell are you trying to do to me?”
“I thought your leg was numb. I wanted to be sure.”, I replied, trying to sound as authorative as Marcus Welby, M.D. “If you don’t feel good, why don’t you lie down?”
“People lie down when they’re tired. I’m not tired. I’m numb.” he said, a little exasperated.
“You didn’t sleep well last night, maybe you need some rest.” I suggested.
And so he did. He actually took my advice. I just went and checked on him… he’s snoring away, once again making the cows down the road restless with all that noise. I just know he’s going to be all sniffly this week. And being the loving lover, I’ll be there pushing the Echinacea and Cold-Ezze… after all, what are lovers for? But isn’t it Rick’s turn this year?
Native Food.
Every area has their own native food. In Cincinnati there’s Cincinnati Chili. Down South there’s grits and sweet tea (I don’t think they’re consumed together though). Nearby Syracuse has “salt potatoes”. Here in the Mohawk Valley we have our own native foods as well. Aside from Chicken and Vodka Riggies (we’ll save that for another entry), at most holiday parties in the area you’ll find Tomato Pie.
I had never heard or had tomato pie before moving to the area back in 1992. I’m not a huge pizza fan (it’s o.k. in moderation) and while tomato pie does resemble pizza, I really love me some tomato pie.
Tomato pie is put together like this: a traditional pizza crust, larger than a regular pizza, is covered with thick tomato or pizza sauce and then topped with grated romano cheese. It’s baked like traditional pizza however, most folks new to the tomato pie experience are surprised to find that it’s allowed to cool and served at room temperature. I find the sauce on tomato pie to be a little sweeter than traditional pizza sauce.
Having lived in this area for over 15 years, I’ve come to expect tomato pie at parties. I might even try making it for our next get together, even though there’s not a lick of Italian in me. (Though I have licked a few Italians in my day.)
Alpha Light.
When two people decide to meet, fall in love and eventually make a commitment to one another and live their life together in unionized bliss, there are some compromises that each individual must make to make the life they build together an enjoyable experience for all involved. One must agree to take out the garbage, the other must be giddy about laundry, one must agree not to spend money wildly, the other must agree to earn money wildly. Together, through discussion, rationalization and compromise, these two people because a beautiful couple that live happily ever after. However, there is one thing that Earl and I refuse to compromise on.
Christmas lights.
You see, growing up Earl and I were both the designated Christmas light caretakers for our respective families. I’ve always been fascinated about Christmas lights and fully believe that you can never have enough. Twinkling lights, large lights, small lights, it doesn’t matter. As long as I can safely connect 25 sets together in a snow storm without getting zapped, I’m happy. I might blow up the local power plant trying to Griswald the house, but by gosh it’ll look good when it’s done. I think it goes without saying that when it was time to decorate the Christmas tree during my youth, I was called upon to sift through, arrange and install the Christmas lights.
It appears that Earl had a very similar experience growing up. He doesn’t get all Griswaldy about it though. While he was in charge of the lights, he prefers to do it in his general manager of a corporation like way; he’s very methodical with the way the lights are to be arranged on the tree.
He starts at the top.
I start at the bottom.
He winds counter-clockwise.
I wind clockwise.
The only thing that we’ve been able to agree upon with Christmas lights over the years is that the older style lights are far superior to what’s been appearing on store shelves the last few seasons. I’m not a big fan of the jeweled lights. I don’t care for the buttons or the icicles or the two-tone lights that seem to include brown. The LED lights do nothing for me. We do agree that lights should compliment the tree, not overpower it.
Last night we decorated the Christmas tree and surprisingly it was good. To keep peace, we started at the top of the tree but we both held the lights together as we delicately installed them on the artificial branches. (Don’t get me started about that).
Maybe we’ve found that compromise after all.
Presentation.
Finding myself without lunch plans today, I phoned Earl to see if he was interested in meeting me for a quick bite to eat. Since today is a half work day for me, I was still home when I called. It turns out that his schedule prohibited him from joining me for lunch, but he apparently had some time to engage in an interesting conversation.
“Remember, tonight is the company Christmas party. It’s business casual.”
“Business casual, as in what I wear to work or business casual as in black tie without the rental costs?”, I asked inquisitvely.
“Business casual as in what you wear to work”, he replied. “What are you wearing to work today?”
“I have a pair of brown khakis on, without pleats of course, and one of my dress shirts. The belt and shoes match.”
“Which shirt?”, he asked, slightly panicked.
“The dark green one that has a suggestion of bear plaid”, I said.
“Oh that looks nice. I’ve always liked you in that shirt. You always look so good when you go to work. Don’t be surprised if I ask you to change when I get home.”
“Why? I thought you said I look nice”, I asked trying not to sound offended.
“Well I don’t want them to think that you’re a server. Remember, this is a company Christmas party.”
“I don’t think the servers will be wearing plaid.”
“I just want you to look nice,” he said.
Quick side note – I understand his concerns completely and will do my best to make a favorable impression.
“I’ll take it one step further. I won’t wipe my mouth on my sleeve and I’ll be sure to not go swimming in the punch. I draw the line at using the utensils. It’s so much faster to shovel it in with my hands.”
“Aren’t you funny”, he replied, exasperated.
“Can I lick the plate? And the plate of a person next to me?”
“I’ll see you at 4:30”, he said.
“I’ll be naked so you can dress me.”
Highlights In High Tech.
There are times when I have this urgent need to embrace this technological whirlwind that has grabbed our society and somehow be part of it. This is an interesting endeavour for me, because in general I’m not much of a crowd person. I really never have been. It’s not that I’m claustrophobic or that I’m afraid of people; I guess I’m content to live in my own little world and do my own thing. So trying to reach out is a bit of an adventure for me.
That all being said, I have to admit that I enjoy peeking in the lives of others by reading blogs. So I’ve added a new blog to my ever growing blogroll; so a big welcome to Jay from “All I Ever Wanted Was Everything”. His blog is über new, so it’ll be fun to watch it grow. I was instantly attracted to his blog because he’s taking flight lessons, which is something I plan to do someday. An added bonus is that he flies a Piper Seminole. The last Piper I flew in was with my father (who let me take the controls for a bit) and it was a Piper Apache. I was 16 or 17 years old at the time. Not as big as the Seminole but still fun.
Perhaps this blog reading thing appeals to a hidden stalker side.
I have another high-tech adventure I’m thinking of embarking on. I’m thinking of selling my HP Pavilion dv9030us laptop. It’s a powerhouse of a computer (complete with 17-inch widescreen display) that deserves to be owned by a Windows geek who’s going to put it through it’s paces. I’m a Macboy at heart (hence, ‘iMachias’) and though I’m a Linux lover when it comes to the PC world, this baby is just meant to be running Windows XP or Vista full-time for someone that has an interest in that side of the computing coin (and no, I don’t think that’s a bad thing and no, I’m not one that hates Microsoft, I just like my Macs better). I’d be happy to deliver it cash in hand to anyone within 150 miles of my location else I’d ship it anywhere within the United States or Canada. I don’t want to just throw it up on ebay; I’d rather it went to a blog reader. If you’re interested, drop me a line and I’ll share the juicy details.
Whew.
It’s not quite ABBA, but I’ll certainly take it. Tonight it’s about a big sigh of relief.
My liberal arts requirements are behind me, now it’s all about the Civil Engineering stuff.
