Ponderings and Musings

So here it is Friday night and Earl and I are sitting upstairs playing on the computer. It’s very still outside, which has me a little nervous because I see Chicago east through the Ohio Valley is having some wild weather with tornado warnings and such. Normally, I would be quite excited about the possibility of that blowing through here except for one thing.

I’m on call this weekend.

I can’t really complain about on-call, as my team leader took two nights of my duties this week so I could go to school Tuesday and Thursday. On call during the week is the hardest part of the whole on call thing, the weekend is cake because I can sleep when I need to. So I’m not going to complain about it.

It does leave me wondering what to do this weekend though. We spent last weekend cleaning the house so aside from dusting, laundry and watering the plants, the house is in decent shape. I think I feel a video project stirring. Perhaps I’ll have to mess around with that a little bit and see if I can dream up something interesting. Now that the basement is cleaned out, I have room to put together a green screen.

Maybe I’ll try flying in a video.

Last Tuesday I was busy at work when my cell phone honked indicating that I had received a text message. I usually save my text messaging for after work hours, so I knew that something was up when my phone dinged in. The message was simple:

“Holy shit dad is getting married on sun call me”

The message was from my sister. Apparently she had spoken with my father and learned of some joyful family news. Luckily it was just before lunchtime, so I took the opportunity to call her during lunch. She told me that Dad and his girlfriend Karen had decided to get married and they were ready to do it over the coming weekend. They didn’t want any fuss and they didn’t want anyone to know that they were getting married so that there would be a huge party or anything like that. They would appreciate it if we didn’t tell anyone of their news.

So Sunday evening, Earl and I and my sister Jennifer went to Dad and Karen’s wedding. It was a beautiful, simple ceremony at the church Karen and her son have attended since moving to this area around 10 years ago. Their closest friends, people Jennifer and I have known all our lives, stood along side them as they exchanged their vows as we sat in the pews watching, praying and wishing them well. There was no organ music, there was no procession down the aisle; the simplicity added to the beauty.

Afterwards we all went to dinner in the historic village of Sackets Harbor, which is located near where the St. Lawrence Seaway and the 1000 Islands meet Lake Ontario. The food was delicious, the conversation was lively and the smiles were beaming.

It was truly a wonderful evening. I’m glad I don’t have to keep the secret any longer. I’m not that good at it.

And now I’m the red headed stepchild of the family.

I wake up this morning and notice that I can’t see outside at all. It is the foggiest I’ve seen it in years. Why, it’s foggier than it ever was on Scooby Doo when they were trying to trap the bad guy. I can’t see a thing.

I think the Universe is telling me something with this fog. You see, last night Earl and I decided to go out to dinner after working on cleaning the basement and garage and ripping out the swimming pool all day long. Going out would be a celebration that we accomplished the job that we didn’t think we’d really get done. I believe my words were, “after all this hard work, I want an evening of debauchery!” We’d go out to dinner and then maybe to one of the bars in Syracuse where I could stand and pose and feel pretty. I was even flagging, which I haven’t done in years. It adds to the mystique.

So we headed west to eat at the local Carrabba’s, which is better than Olive Garden but still has the trappings of a national chain. While en route, Earl talked to my sister to see what she was up to and invited her along for the fun. I also told Earl that I wasn’t going to drink any beer, since I’m such a lightweight and would be a mess after just two.

It turns out I opted for red wine instead.

I don’t know why I thought I could handle wine better than beer but that theory was shot completely out the window last night. The two glasses of “house red” were certainly enjoyable, but made me really foggy. Really, really foggy. As I sit here and type this entry, I’m realizing that I have little recollection of coming home. I certainly hope Earl drove. I suspect he did because while I like living life on the edge, I’m not that irresponsible. I know I had hopes of going out after dinner but apparently that didn’t come to fruition.

I’m done drinking any alcohol for quite a while.

I do remember having some great conversation with my sister and Earl during dinner. We always laugh so much when we’re together. She’s getting ready to head for Russia for a month, as her boyfriend is a Canadian pro-hockey player and is over there playing hockey again this season. I don’t remember much after dessert though.

So now it’s shortly after 6 a.m. on a Sunday morning and I’m barely back on earth. I think I’m going to take a nap.

It’s official. As of Wednesday, Earl and I have lived together in one household for ten years. To celebrate the event, we rented a dumpster to throw out all the junk we’ve accumulated over the years.

It’s really amazing to think that we’ve accumulated all of this stuff when we’re living in our third place together. I mean some of this stuff I’ve saved from the apartment we lived in back in ’96. But here we are, still holding on to old copies of DOS and a 286 computer with a 13-inch monitor.

You never know when technology is going to regress, I guess.

We decided to include the neighbors on our celebration by emptying OUR pool in THEIR lawn. It wasn’t intentional, but they’re the ones that live downhill from us, so now they can play “swamp thing” out in the backyard, courtesy of their neighbors. I thought it was a nice gesture. Tomorrow the pool goes in the dumpster. Next spring we’ll say “hello hot tub.”

Wanna visit?

This week is flying by at an incredible pace. I feel like I can barely keep up with it. We’ve been off somewhere every night this week and tonight will be no exception, as we have to drive to Syracuse (the round trip is 90 miles) to pick up my car from it’s 20,000 mile tune-up. At least it’s an excuse to go out and eat.

I feel like the laundry baskets and my e-mail inbox are bulging at the seams. It’ll be good to catch up on both this weekend. We also had a present delivered for our weekend fun – a dumpster. We’re finally going to get the basement cleaned out and functional again.

What a way to relax.

You know, even though we’ve been moving non-stop this week, it feels like it’s all been in “maintenance mode” – get the car tuned up, vote in the primary elections, pick up needed items at PetSmart, that sort of thing. I think Saturday night we’re going to do something that doesn’t have the earmarks of “responsibility” attached just for the hell of it.

Watch out – the boys are getting wild!

This picture was taken in 2002, when Earl and I took the opportunity to visit the makeshift memorial for the passengers of Flight 93 in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
It has been five years since, well, 9/11/01. Though my blog was brand new at the time, I didn’t have a chance to write that day. I did write a brief entry the following day and this line sticks out:

“I believe our lives changed yesterday at 8:48 a.m. forever.”

The world has become seemingly more complicated since the attacks. I wonder if things will ever get back to “normal”.

Update @12:33 p.m. – I just read Joe.My.God.’s account of September 11. Remembering the events of five years ago today feels like you’re pulling a scab off a wound. It’s still there, it’s just been covered up a while as it tries to heal. Seeing the pictures and reading his account, as well as others on the web, still make me tear up. Recollecting the trip Earl and I made to Shanksville, Pennsylvania in 2002 to honor those on Flight 93 still brings a lump to my throat.

I haven’t watched the CNN Pipeline real-time coverage from 9/11/01. I don’t think I really want to. My memory provides me all the coverage I need and I feel while it’s very important to remember the event and to honor those that passed on, it’s also important for us to look forward in search of that brighter future.

If you squint and I squint, we both will be able to see it lying ahead on the path before us.

It was 5 a.m. Earl and I were sound asleep enjoying the cool September air. Tom was perched next to my side, sound asleep as well. I was dreaming of pleasant things.

And then the phone rang.

My supervisor was calling from work. He had a family emergency and needed me to work the early shift this morning. While it’s not the best way to kick off a work week, sometimes you have to do what you have to do.

So now it’s a little after six and I’m fully dressed, somewhat awake and watching the sunrise.

Wake up me up for lunch.

Sometimes I get so hung up in my daily routine that I forget how marvelous things can be when you change it up a little bit. I’m so amused by simple things.

Today I took my lunch at 11:00 a.m. I’ve never done that before. The were less cars on the road. I actually got to see our neighbors working in the lawn (he’s weedwhacking down their vegetable garden for some odd reason, but I’m not one to ask questions why) and I was greeted at the front door by a groggy looking cat that wanted to know why I was home so early.

Truth be known, I also came home early to down two Advil, since I had a tooth that was hurting me a little bit and I wanted the pain to stop. I’m hoping that’ll be it as far as the tooth is concerned, but only time will tell. I think I got too wild with the electric toothbrush last night before going to bed.

Nevertheless, I’m sitting here in the late morning eating lunch and I’m fully enjoying the experience. I’m so easily amused.

I was enjoying my day off by walking through Eastview Mall in suburban Rochester, New York. I had just situated myself in the food court, armed with a diet soda and nothing more; I planned on people watching as an exercise in relaxation. Because I’m somewhat of a loner, all the tables around me were empty by my choosing, but I was still relatively close to the main traffic area of the busy food court and well within eyeshot of one of my favorite fast food joints, Tom Wahls.

A few minutes of peaceful bliss had passed when an elderly woman sat down at the table to my left. I smiled courteously but said nothing, hoping the sparkle in my eyes would convey the “hello” I was silently saying on the inside.

The woman, looking rather regal in her attire and confidence, smiled back and said “Hello.” I thought nothing more of it when she turned to me again and said, “That’s a very handsome mustache you have there.”

I have to admit that I thought quite the contrary, since I haven’t shaved since Friday, with this being my weekend and all, and while I was enjoying my drive, I had been absentmindedly been pulling at the left side of it, a terrible habit that Earl wishes I would drop quickly.

I responded, “Thank you ma’am, I appreciate that.”

She then said, “My husband had a mustache like yours. I don’t like those little Clark Gable mustaches, so he grew something big and bushy like yours. His turned white though, as he got older, but it started out auburn.”

I had noted that she had said “had one” when telling me about her husband’s mustache, so I asked, “Oh, did he shave it off?”

She responded, “No, he passed away several years ago.” She then added, “I wonder if he still has the mustache up there”, as she pointed towards the ceiling.

A tear formed in the corner of my eye as I responded, “I bet he does, and it’s back to its glorious auburn color.”

Since my male pride kicked in and I didn’t want to be seen in the mall food court with tears in my eyes, I finished up my diet pop and wished this kind woman, “Have a wonderful day, ma’am.”

I said it out loud this time.

Earl announced this morning that it was time to embark on my second most disliked household chore. It was time to grocery shopping. I countered that we could probably put it off another day if he didn’t mind tomato soup made out of ketchup or spaghetti made with barbecue sauce but he said no, it was time to stock the cupboards.

At least I tried.

One of the reasons I dislike grocery shopping so much is because all the stores in this area have turned into these gigundous behemoths that are doing their best to resemble a warehouse. If I wanted to go a warehouse to shop, I’d head to BJ’s where we can buy everything in the outrageous size and not be able to fit it in the car, which results in having to hook the barrel of kitty litter up to the hitch on the Jeep and drag it home. That in itself is a pain in the ass so I avoid that place like the plague.

I’ve often raved about my beloved Wegmans, but they’re 50 miles away and after you get through the food court and the produce, it’s just as boring and tedious as the lesser markets.

I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want to shop in a grocery store that doesn’t require bus service to get from produce to dairy. I know this sounds crazy, but I like to be able to see all four sides of the store. It’s not like there’s something promised somewhere over the rainbow as I gaze in search of the deli department; I already know that I’m going to find a surly deli clerk named Wilma who won’t serve me until my number pops up and then she’ll slice the turkey wrong.

And then we have this whole coffee and cell phone thing going on. Since when did grocery shopping require a cup of ridiculously expensive coffee in one hand and a cell phone, complete with annoying conversation, in the other? I once tracked a woman who was yakking on her cell phone and sipping her mocha chocha choo choo lite lite latte through the store. She whacked her cart into several people, bought food loaded with sodium and emblazened with promises of convenience, paid with an AmEx card in the 20 items or fewer/cash only lane and then went out to her SUV parked at an angle to avoid any dents in the doors.

Bitch.

Now I’m not looking for a grocery store like we went to when I was a kid; that was an old Mom and Pop store with a cashier named Ruth who’d been there for no less than 105 years. They couldn’t afford bags so they grabbed a discarded box from the storeroom and plunked your groceries in there. Meat was wrapped in paper and priced with a grease pencil. It was homey, but probably a little outdated for my tastes. No, I’m looking for a regular grocery store. Food. Dry Goods. That’s it. No pharmacy. No florist. No McDonalds. No televisions. No gimmicks. No coffee.

A few Green Stamps would be nice as well.