Life Is Such A Sweet Insanity.

What’s a night owl to do on a hot, muggy summer night in the beginning of August? The alarm is set for 6:00 a.m. I have hopes of going for a bike ride before getting ready for and to work by 8:00. I’m not tired at all. I can’t even fake being tired right now. All that’s going through my head is that my alarm is going to blare out the news on NPR in less than seven hours.

God bless Earl. I’ve already tried going to bed with him and purposely falling to sleep by his side. I’ve sang “Mr. Sandman” complete with bass line. I’ve chatted like some crazy cross between a whippoorwill and a loon. I’ve done impressions of Earl’s soon-to-arrive CPAP machine by covering my mouth with my hands, breathing really hard and saying “Luke, I am your father.” I’ve flipped back and forth and ended up with my knee in Earl’s back. I’ve played the beginning rhythm of Copacabana on his bare ass. He finally blurted out, “Would you shut the f*ck up?!?” His statement was full of love, no worries there.

I’m still not asleep.

Sigh. Night owls shouldn’t have to fake the day life.

Today I’m running some errands, doing some research for my roadgeek website and just enjoying the beautiful summer weather. My first stop was a local bike shop to pick up some needed tubes and some proper cycling glasses, courtesy of a gift certificate from my mother and my sister. I was actually able to buy two pair of glasses that are just perfect, one for day riding and one for riding in the evening or at night (they’re very slightly tinted). I feel like one of the cool kids when I have them on. I’ll have to share a picture in my full gear.

Now I’m sitting at a Panera, trying to eat a sandwich that deconstructed itself as soon as I touched it. The bread slid one way, the cheese another and the mayo laughed it’s head off.

For some reason I’m absolutely delighted about a rather large party that is taking up several tables in the middle of the eating area. They seem to be having a birthday celebration for a grandmotherly looking woman that reminds me a little bit of my “grandma city”*, especially in her demeanor. Her gift is a large potted plant arrangement. The way her eyes are sparkling at the gesture has made my day.

There’s a number of people surfing the internet and conducting business on their computers and cell phones here. Surprisingly, they’re not intrusive about their conversations at all. I like to think that my constant complaining of cell phone use on this blog is getting the message out there that we don’t appreciate that sort of rudeness, but they’re probably just cell phone savvy. I don’t have that many readers.

I’m curious as to what the weekend has in store for us. This was to be the weekend that my high school alumni marching band made it’s debut, but too many people bailed out of the project on me, leaving me with a tuba player, a trumpet player and a bunch of flute players. Maybe next year. Earl and I have thrown around a few places to travel to, including Niagara Falls, Pittsburgh or Baltimore, but I think we might enjoy the summer sun rather locally and perhaps go to the field days in my home town.

* I’m sick of writing “maternal” and “paternal” grandmother, as it sounds entirely too formal to me, so I’ve opted for “grandma city” and “grandma country”. My sister and I were fortunate to have two loving grandmothers that were different in many respects.

Earl and I ran errands tonight. We stopped and hand washed the Acura. We even brought the towels so we could dry it and make it look really shiny. We ran to the post office. We stopped at the ATM. It was there that Earl dropped a bomb on me. “We need to stop at Wal*mart.”

The temperature is going to be near 100 degrees tomorrow. This makes the factory environment of Earl’s plant tip closer to 120 degrees. Being the caring general manager of the facility that he is, Earl wanted to pick up several cases of Gatorade and bottled water for his employees, to try to make working conditions as bearable as possible.

I hate to admit it, but Wal*mart has the best deal on Gatorade. They have to, or else Wal*mart wouldn’t sell Gatorade. That’s just the way it works in Wally World.

I think I have anger management issues with a touch of a superiority complex. When I see people walking through Wal*mart with those god awful cell phone ear pieces I want to slap the said wearer right across the face. Hard. I want to say “you’re not that important and you look stupid.” If they’re not wearing the ear piece and opting to talk on the phone instead, I want to beat them over the head with their phone. I feel a strong urge of hostility when I see this gross abuse of technology.

Then I see the people in those motorized carts terrorizing everyone around them and buying cases of generic macaroni and cheese. And cartons of cigarettes. I want to shove those people right out of those carts. There are people on crutches who could use those carts, but they’re hogging them up because they’re damn lazy and eating all that macaroni and cheese. An occasional meal of homemade macaroni and cheese is a delight but a constant diet of that fake crap is a travesty. I would like to yell “eat some salad!” as I shove them out of the lazymobile. They’d go ‘plop’ on the floor.

I don’t get hostile in K-mart or Target. I was friendly back in the days of Ames. There’s just something about Wal*mart that makes me downright surly. I don’t know if it’s the fact that we’ve been stripped of just about any other choice than the supercenter behemoths. Perhaps it’s the extraordinarily loud television sets mounted from the ceiling or the shrill service desk clerk yelling for a tampon price check over the intercom. Whatever the reason, I feel like when I step into Wal*mart, I Always Have Issues, Always.

Last night I decided that I needed to get back into the routine of riding my bike to work so this morning I was up an extra half hour early and on my bike for my daily commute. I can still remember the first time I rode my bike to elementary school back in the late 1970s and the thrill I felt as a youngster as I got to school under my own power. I still feel that thrill to this day when I ride my bike to work.

There’s a certain amount of planning involved with doing this environmentally friendly peddle pushing. This is the first time that I’ve ridden my bike to this job and there’s a dress code expectation of sorts that has to be met, so prepping for the ride involved planning and packing clothes that wouldn’t get exceedingly wrinkled while in a small backpack, plus I needed to pick the right shoes that would dangle off the bottom of my back pack without creating too much discomfort in that area.

Another first for me today is this is the first time I’ve ever packed my laptop for a bike ride. I usually dash home at lunch but there’s no “dashing” when one is on a bicycle, so I opted to walk our fine downtown and take advantage of the free wi-fi service they recently unveiled. It’s a little slow, but it does the trick.

Downtown Utica has become an interesting study for several reasons. First of all, it’s suffering from the aftermath of a propserous turned disasterous urban renewal plan from the 1970s. During this project of over 30 years ago, many of the historic buildings were razed and cement-chic buildings popped up in their place. Unfortunately some of these buildings, as well as their remaining older counterparts, are currently empty as businesses close down or relocate to the commercially prosperous suburb of New Hartford. What was once a busy downtown retail area has been replaced by an apartment building, several office buildings and countless empty storefronts. There’s also a relatively modern hotel that seems to be holding on, though with the construction of a new Hampton Inn underway, I don’t know how long it’s going to be able to hold it’s own.

It was only three or four years ago that you would see hot dog carts and whatnot on the street at lunch time. I used to be able to walk around the downtown area and see lots of people walking from their office to one of the several lunch counters. Today none of that is to be found. I guess the office workers in this area are brown bagging it or going to one of the newer chain restaurants in the suburbs. There are just a few people on the sidewalk. I’m sitting in the courtyard at the State Office Building. I’m one of five people here. This building has 16+ floors of offices. It’s 12:23 in the afternoon. You’d think there’d be more people out here enjoying the beautiful weather and a lunch.

I’m hesitant to admit it but I hope that Earl and I stick around long enough to see this city turn itself around.

There’s a certain amount of danger in staying up late on the weekends and then taking a two hour nap on Sunday afternoon.

You end up babbling in your blog about nothing at 1:09 a.m.