Ponderings and Musings

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.

It was summer of 1983. I had just turned 15 years and I had bought myself a stereo for my birthday. It was a Yorx stereo system purchased from the local Ames. It was an all-inclusive unit including a radio tuner, an eight-track recording unit and a modern turntable that only played two speeds: 33 1/3 and 45 RPMs.

To properly christen said turntable, I had also picked up a 12-inch single at Gerber Music in the now long-gone Gerber Music. The single? “(Keep Feeling) Fascination” by The Human League. I couldn’t really get my mother to understand the concept of the 12-inch single, because it looked like an album but only had one track on each side. “But Mom, it’s a really cool version of the song! And it’s really long!” She finally gave in and gave me the money to pick up this ultra cool version of my favorite track at the time.

So I set up the stereo system and then the perfect night came along. Mom was at one of her civic club meetings, Jennifer was at her friends and Dad was flying his airplane. I cranked up the stereo and played The Human League loud and proud. And I sang and danced all around my bedroom like a crazy fool.

Fast forward 23 years.

Earl is at the casino and I’m at home messing around with my recording equipment. The weather is ominous and the mood is just right. I crank up my now favorite Human League track, “Heart Like A Wheel” and sing and dance around the bedroom like a crazy fool.

Some things never change. I guess I’m still a kid at heart. Hence, the very sweaty person you see in this picture.

Earl surprised me this afternoon by inviting me out to lunch, so I didn’t get a chance to follow my usual routine of flying home, gulping down some chow, checking out my favorite blogs and sharing something witty here.

I have to admit a nooner would have been quite nice but probably a little rude in the middle of the restaurant.

Nevertheless, our lunch date was quite enjoyable and a wonderful way to wind up the work week. Actually, the work week is going to keep going for me through Labor Day, as I am the anointed one at work this weekend and have the luxury of being on-call. Let’s see if Ernesto cooperates with the On Call Gods and decides to take a turn away from our area.

Since we’re going to be home all weekend, I think I’m going to work on a few household projects. I think I’m going to work my way up by starting in the basement and throwing out a ton of crap. If it’s still in the moving boxes from December 2003, I think it’s a candidate for getting sold or tossed. Once that’s complete, I have a green screen studio to build so I can get wild with the movie making. I have creative ideas floating around in my head that I’m just aching to share with the internet.

I’m also wondering if I should dare Mother Nature by prepping the garage for car storage this winter. It might be a little early in the season for that.

One thing I’m certain to avoid is excessive time on the computer. I don’t think I’m in the mood for it. There’s too much out there to enjoy and accomplish. Even if it’s close to home.

Happy Friday! The sun is shining here in Upstate New York, Mother Nature’s colors have taken on a very slight autumn hue and our friend Ernesto is making his way into the Mid-Atlantic States, promising to keep my on-call weekend very interesting.

I say “Bring it on, baby”.

I’ve amassed enough comp already this week to take Tuesday off, so I have something to look forward to. A nice roadgeek exploration trip to the western part of the state. Why? Because it’s there.

I’ll probably be quite chatty this weekend as we keep it to home base and do some work around the house, but I wanted to take a moment to say: Have an enjoyable and safe Labor Day weekend!

Today I saw a “thug” type young man help an old lady cross the street. She didn’t beat him with her purse, he didn’t try to steal her money, he just helped her across the street as she made her way through the crosswalk with her walker.

I needed to see that.

Last night Earl and I had some family over for supper. We hadn’t gotten together in quite a while, my sister’s boyfriend is off to Russia this coming weekend to play hockey on one of the Moscow teams and we all thought it’d be good to get together.

I needed that too. Because even though my relatives can be a pain in the ass sometimes, they are family and I wouldn’t trade them in for anything.

The sun is out today, the cat’s skunk smell is finally dissipating and my first jab at education in 20 years is just around the corner.

I think my funk has found it’s end. Look out life, here I come.

I’ve been in this weird, pensive, slightly apprehensive mood today. And here I am rhyming about it on my blog. I can’t put my finger on the cause of this little bit of a funk I’ve got going on today. It’s nothing really bad mind you, I’m not going to go out and go crazy or anything like that. Perhaps I sniffed too many bleach fumes while I did laundry earlier today. Maybe the last vestiges of the skunk smell on the cat has gotten to me. Perhaps my head got jostled around yesterday on the ride at the State Fair.

Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s going to pass so I’m not going to worry about it. Let’s hear it for the new work week!

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.

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.

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.