Ponderings and Musings

There are people in the world that believe cats and dogs are “just animals”. They have no personality, they have no free will, they’re here to be the pet of a human being. In fact, years ago a woman once chimed in on a newspaper commentary call-in column that animals don’t have a soul. I personally looked that woman up in the local phone book and called her, just to tell her that she’s a cold, cold woman, but that’s another story.

Boy, are those people wrong.

I can say without a trace of doubt in my voice that our cherished feline and canine friends certainly do have a personality. Some of them even have a sense of humor. For example, our cat Tom found a new way to terrorize me in the early hours of the morning today. He now jumps on the weather station control station display in the bedroom, causing it to emit various beeps and bonks as it’s confused about the commands it’s receiving. While I was having a wonderful dream that had something to do with “Charmed”, I was interrupted by Tom’s new game. Stumbling over to the weather station to shoo him off, I was intrigued that he apparently prefers metric, as he had converted the temperature display to celsius and the wind speed to clicks (kmh). I haven’t the foggiest idea on how to do that, or change it back for that matter, so now I have to do math when it comes to determining whether I should wear a parka or board shorts to the office.

A little kitty cat humor.

You’d think that being an older cat he’d be settled in his bag of tricks, but no, he’s blessing us with new things on a weekly basis. Last week, the gentle tap-tap-tap on my chin while I’m sleeping was replaced with a claws-extended push, push, scratch. At least my beard covers any scars that may accumulate through this phase of his. A couple of months ago, he discovered the piano and that walking across the ivories made music. I’m afraid that his next trick will involve sending an e-mail to my family or something. “FOOD SUCKS. SEND SOMETHING TASTY FOR A CHANGE.”

Does this all make me crazy? Not really. Would I change it in any way? Not on your life.

So to those people that don’t see any personality in their cat or dog, I say you’re nuts. Stop treating them as “just a pet” and just let them be. Even if they make things go ‘bonk’ in the night.

Today I had lunch with my friends Susan and Jeff. I used to work at the radio station with them both; Susan still works for the same company and Jeff has moved on to another position in a different industry. I had seen Susan a couple of weeks before the Jeep tour, but I hadn’t seen Jeff in a year or so. It was wonderful to get together with both of them at the swanky restaurant across from my office building. We laughed, shared stories and basically caught each other up with the various states of our existence. It was wonderful.

However, not coming home at lunch time threw my timing all off.

Now, I’m not at the point where I’m going to be going “Time for Wapner, Time for Wapner”, somewhere in the rural midwest. That would just be silly. I don’t think that Judge Wapner is even still alive. But I have a schedule that I like to follow. While I like to live spontaneously as much as possible, I do try to have it all mapped out. I enjoying writing my blog entries as I’m munching down my lunch and playing the “in and out game” with the cat. It keeps me grounded a little bit. Throw me off schedule a little bit and I get all crazy at work and then I actually start thinking about what I’m doing instead of just milling through the day like it’s just another day in paradise. Why, I even used a paper towel AND 409 to clean the schmutz off my desk today, and my elbow wasn’t even stuck down or anything! Today was kind of an odd day at work anyways, as it was the first day of the new experience: taking two different technical support centers and officially uniting them into one unified force to be reckoned with. We’ve been in the same area since the beginning of the year, but now we have to actually interact with one another and work on the same projects as one team. It’s not unpleasant in any way, though there is a learning curve that sometimes I feel is more like a curveball. I think it’s going to go o.k., but today had an odd “first day at the new job” feel to it that was amplified by having lunch with old co-workers.

Tomorrow I’m back on my schedule and taking my lunch hour at home. Maybe I’ll be spontaneous and do it naked or something.

I stuck to my plan and was productive today! The deck is officially decked out with plants and flowers and if I do say so myself, looks quite good.

I even cooked supper tonight and everyone involved survived. I just love grilling out on the deck. I’m thinking of trying to grill a tossed salad this weekend to see how it turns out. Stay tuned.

Tomorrow it’s back to work on the early shift and I’ve just finished my chores so I’m ready to call it a night. Tonight I’m keeping it short and sweet.

I had visions of Earl and I going on a picnic today; just the two of us in the Jeep. We’d take some sandwiches, a little macaroni salad and make some iced tea. We’d frolic in the fields, welcoming the unofficial start to summer.

Instead we worked around the house, getting the deck ready for the season. The debit card has skid marks on it.

When the original owners of our house built the deck, they never completed the project. The floor part is there, it’s a reasonable size and it offers wonderful access to the pool, but they never put a railing on it. So we have posts of varying length sticking up where the railing should go. We decided to do something about the posts. Now don’t get ahead of me now and think that we built the railing and walls and all that. We’re not that handy nor crazy. No, instead we made a virtual railing, installing the hangers for hanging plants and mounting solar powered lamps on top of the posts.

I’m taking the day off from work tomorrow, using a little comp time. Originally I was going to go for a road trip and do some research for my road geek web site. Instead I’ll continue the deck project and buy some plants and such. When I’m through it’ll be “J.P.’s Jungle”.

Sometimes staying local isn’t that bad.

Today is one of those days that I like at work, everyone is gearing up for the long Memorial Day weekend and basically in “maintenance mode”. Half of the people in the office have taken the day off, the other half are doing what needs to get done and then keeping busy with important projects like interjecting comments on the American Idol message board, checking the progress of ebay auctions and searching for a new computer for my their mother on Retrobox. Naturally these are all arbitrary examples that I am unfamiliar with.

Memorial Day has been set aside to remember those that have died in our nation’s service. There are thousands and thousands of men and women that have passed on while fighting for the American Way. While researching Memorial Day on the internet, I found this site which outlines the history of Memorial Day, including it’s official birthplace of Waterloo, New York, not too far west from here. Before reading this I thought Waterloo was cool for being in the famed Finger Lakes and having a big outlet shopping center.

I’ve often wondered why we celebrate Memorial Day by buying cheap refrigerators and low-priced automobiles. At least that’s what the advertisements would have you believe; screw the family picnics and whatnot, you need to get your butt out there and buy something now! I mean, nothing says “remember our fallen heroes” like a cheap Datsun. (Notice the use of an obsolete car manufacturer’s name in order to avoid complaints. I’m so clever.) I mean, does attending a parade through town honor those that have served followed by attending the memorial service at the local cemetary and then going to Montgomery Ward (still clever) for a discounted microwave all go hand-in-hand? “One of these things just doesn’t belong…”, I believe is how the song goes.

Anyways, no matter how you celebrate Memorial Day this weekend, let’s all just take a brief, reflective moment and thank the diety of your choosing for blessing us with the life we have and remembering those that have served our country to make it better.

Then we all can dig into the ribs and baked beans at the family picnic.

It’s 6:29 a.m. I’m on the brink of cowering in fear under the sheets and blankets, knowing that any second the alarm is going to go off, signaling the fact that I need to get out of bed. Being the freak geek that I am, the alarm clock is set to the atomic standard, so it’s right in sync with the local NPR station. The alarm goes off just as their joyous news music kicks in and “This in NPR News, I’m Jean Cochran…” blares out of the 15 year old device.

I’ve been semi-awake for the past 29 minutes as Earl got out of bed at 6:00, stirring Tom, who has been pawing at my face and making noises that sound like he’s been strangled; it’s his way of saying that he’s hungry.

“Shut up! Stop making noise! Leave for work! Don’t you have a breakfast meeting?” my brain screams as I muster all my energy to make an effort to be civil in the morning as I say, “Good morning sweetheart.” I even manage a weak smile. Truth of the matter is, it’s not Earl’s fault that I have to get up and go to work at this ungodly hour of 8:00 a.m. I could easily abandon this lunacy and get a real job as a greeter in a 24 hour Wal*Mart Supercenter, but no, I go for the challenge of a normal workday.

Still trying to be civil, I stumble into the bathroom to do my thing, which makes Tom utter more strangling noises. I tell him “I’m using my litterbox”, trying to use familiar terms for His Impatientness, but he doesn’t care. There’s kibble to be poured.

After putzing around the house and catching up on e-mail and whatnot for a half hour or so, I find the sanctity of the shower. The water is like magic as it washes away the waking crankies. While I won’t be truly awake until after lunchtime, at least I feel like I’m able to make an effort now.

As I was looking at old pictures the other night, I came across this photo from sometime between 1978 and 1980.. It was taken at the local airport where my dad was taking flight lessons at the time. All the guys pictured in this photo had had their weekly flight lesson with the local instructor (in the yellow shirt) as they worked toward their private pilot’s license. A little young for a flight lesson, but always eager to fly, I had sat in the pilot’s seat of the Cessna 150 pictured and had flown the plane with the flight instructor riding along and making sure I kept the plane in the air. He didn’t touch the wheel at all and helped me handle the plane when the stall warning horn went off on take-off.

We didn’t crash.

I vividly remember this picture being taken and feeling for the first time in my life that I was just one of the guys.

The human memory is an amazing thing. It really is if you think about it. They say that every thought, every experience, every scent, every feeling is stored away neatly in that abyss we affectionally call “gray matter”. It’s all just a matter of accessing what we’ve tucked neatly away; it’s all categorized, indexed and stored, waiting for something to trigger it’s retrieval so that we can relive a fleeting moment, recall a past experience or tell an ancedote to party guests.

For me, there’s a certain era of pop music that triggers some very happy memories from my childhood. One of the songs of the era is “One Of These Nights” by the Eagles. Not only was I fascinated by the backing vocals of the song, but it seems we always heard it on the AM radio that would play away in the family car.

The year was 1975. It was fall and after the change back to standard time but still early enough in the season that it wasn’t terribly cold outside for a Sunday night in Upstate New York. The four of us, my mom and dad and my sister and I had piled into my dad’s ’71 Heavy Chevy in the driveway of 233 Ridge Ave., the home of my maternal grandparents. Notice I said “my dad’s” ’71 Heavy Chevy. Even though it was the family car it really was his car, a proud symbol of a hard working man in his late 20s, having already been married almost 10 years with two young kids in tow. My mom couldn’t even drive the car as she couldn’t drive a stick (though she did conquer it a year or so later). We drove through the suburban streets of Syracuse, aimed for I-81 north and started the 45 minute journey home. As sort of an established family rule I sat behind my mom, Jennifer was situated behind dad. Not a lot was spoken but we all seemed very content. Like so many Sunday night drives of the same route before, we followed Route 81 with 62 WHEN playing on the radio as I watched the lights of jets landing at Hancock Airport.

About half way home as we crossed the “Brewerton Bridge” I would get a little antsy, the lights of the jets long forgotten and the straight section of 81 near Cicero, framed by powerlines, left behind as we rolled along the concrete highway. For some reason those powerlines fascinated me. I amused myself by making hand gestures in the darkness of the backseat, oddly giddy with the fact that I couldn’t see the gestures I was making because it was so dark. Darkness fascinated me. Dad would turn on the highbeams and the blue “BRIGHTS” light would illuminate on the dash. Mom would cough a little bit, a by-product of the whooping cough she had as a child. Jenn and I would play a now forgotten game and giggle a little. It’s funny but I don’t remember fighting a lot with my sister. I would roll down the back window just an inch or two and smell the autumn air. I thought I was being so clever, rolling down the window and not ever asking permission. It was like nobody even noticed. They’d never know if I just rolled the window a little bit for fresh air.

For some reason I can recall those trips as if they were yesterday. Jennifer would fall asleep around the Parish exit, just as dad lit his one cigarette for the trip home. Mom would cough a little as dad cracked his window open just a bit to let the smoke out.

As I think back on those trips I remember being so happy. Not that I’m unhappy today; quite the contrary. But I can look back at myself at that time and see so many beginnings of what I am today. I’m still amused by rides in the dark. I always turn the dashlights down very low so that I can make gestures in the dark. I’m fascinated by the powerlines that still stand along I-81 near Cicero. I watch jets land at Syracuse Airport. I play little games in the car with Earl.

And “One Of These Nights” plays on the radio.

This is the one picture I could find of dad’s Heavy Chevy when it was still intact. (That’s me in the white hat doing the odd pose). The Heavy Chevy left our family on February 22, 1978 when Mom, Jennifer and I were driving home from grandma and grandpa’s. A truck that was over clearance regulations had wedged itself under a bridge near I-81 milepost 109. It was snowing. We were stopped, the second to last vehicle in a line of traffic waiting for the truck to be moved so traffic could pass under the bridge. Being on a curve and a downhill, a tractor trailer came around the corner and unaware of the traffic snarl, backended the line of cars. About five minutes prior to the accident, Mom had asked me to move from the center of the back seat over to the passenger side. When I did, I had put on my seatbelt. Had I not moved, I would have been seriously injured as the tractor trailer and Pinto behind us rammed into the back of the car, folding the roof like a sardine can. My sister hit the windshield. My mother had a huge cut across her head where the roof had folded up and hit her. I was rammed into the front seat. We all survived. But the Heavy Chevy didn’t, it was done.

Dad opted for a new ’78 Impala Sport Coupe after the Heavy Chevy. It had a 350 in it, it was two door and it was a great car. New memories were made in the Impala, gestures were made in the dark and Jenn fell asleep near the Parish exit.

And “One Of These Nights” played on 62 WHEN.

For a Monday with very little sleep behind it, I must say that I’m a little hyper today. I haven’t had any tea or soda (yet) and I don’t drink coffee, but I’m running around the office with a pep in my step and ready to take on the world.

Well, I’m not in the mood to take on the world but I fake it well. I wonder if I’m driving my co-workers crazy. I did refrain from pinching the freshly shaven cheeks of a normally bearded co-worker. I thought that might have been crossing a boundary of some sort. I do find many bearded men very hot, but not in the workplace. Well, they’re hot in the workplace but I don’t talk about it because it would make everyone involved blush and then it’d be awkward and goodness knows it all is already awkward and I sure don’t need to help it along with more, uh, awk.

Earl and I have had a change of plans for tonight which sort of presents a “clean slate” ripe for activities and I’m in the mood to do something. Anything. You know, I’ve never been to the movies on a Monday night before, maybe we could do that! I’ve been dying for popcorn.

With this last bout of on-call behind me, I’m eager to get out and do something, anything, that doesn’t involve sitting in front of a computer and listen to customers inquire about the “beep, beep, beep that goes in my phone.” When I inquired about what kind of beep she was referring to, she got haughty when I accused her of not knowing what a busy signal was. I wanted to show her what the click of a hang-up was, but come to find out she got one of those newfangled push-button phones and she didn’t realize she it would make noise when she pushed the buttons.

Oy.

Oh, and while I’m thinking of it, I have to say Happy Birthday to Terry. {insert smiling face and waving hand here} Oh, a belated happy birthday to Karl.

I think that’s the first shout out I’ve ever done in my five years of blogging. Maybe not. I guess I don’t really care whether it is or not. I’m too busy planning this week’s social calendar.

Here it is Sunday evening. Earl is out playing poker with his buddies and I’m sitting in front of the computer. After a fairly quiet on-call day yesterday, today has kept me rather busy. That’s kind of odd for a Sunday, usually Sunday is the quiet day.

I’ve learned a lot of computer skills today as I’ve been messing around with web pages and such. We’ve cleaned and organized the house. I didn’t conquer the doorbell installation, but we did some other projects that needed to be done so I feel like we’ve accomplished something.

I know that I’m ready to get out and enjoy some social activity. After being on call for a week and thinking about little outside of work, I’m ready to get out and do something. Last night Earl and I went to a local steakhouse for supper but unfortunately all I could think about was the pager on my belt and how I would tactfully take care of work while sitting in a restaurant.

I guess I’m feeling antsy today. I’m ready for the clouds to clear, the summer breezes to start up and the pager to be shut off.

Very soon, very soon….