Believe it or not, I actually had something of a strategy concerning this weekend's return to work. If all went according to plan, I would get on the board this morning, receive an assignment this afternoon, hang around today and watch football, then leave town tomorrow. I do love it when a plan comes together.
After a few hours of sleep following my trek home in the wee hours of the morning, I had to get up and call the terminal to put myself on the board. The dispatcher said that I was #12 and might as well stay home for a while. Beauty. First part of the plan complete.
My roommate borrowed my car to go to South Bend this morning, so I was just planning on hanging around the apartment unless and until I received a load assignment. Then I would have to call someone to give me a ride to work. My mother called at some point to see if I had made it out of town yet. No, still here. She had gone to the office for a few hours, so she swung by and picked me up on her way home from work. At her house, you see, they have this fancy newfangled service called 'cable TV' hooked up. All the better for watching football and baseball and such. Second part of the plan complete.
The Tigers shit the bed once again, but the Irish did manage to win a home game against those agricultural students from Lansing for a change. Fair enough. I got my assignment during the second half of the Notre Dame game, so I called the terminal to see what was what. I was assigned to pick up a load sitting on the yard and deliver it in Traverse City on Monday morning. Beauty. Third part of the plan complete.
I hung around and watched some more football for a while, then headed back home to spend the night. Apparently my car and its driver haven't returned to Michigan yet, so I'll have to see what is the story when I wake tomorrow. I'm thinking that I'll head up the road for a few hours tomorrow evening and then finish the trip on Monday morning. Someone's gonna have to get me to the terminal one way or another.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
9/18/09
Yeah, I really need to go back to work. Before much longer my pants aren't going to fit. With the bulk of the preparations already handled, today was reserved mainly for socializing with various folks. Lunch with Mom. Dinner with the reverend. Drinks with married people. One note of caution though: If you happen to go out for drinks with married people, they will leave before the night is through. Candyasses. I was rather enjoying the Irish fella playing the guitar, so I had to stick around for a while.
Back to work in the morning... maybe.
Back to work in the morning... maybe.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
9/17/09
Since I forgot to buy a Mega Millions ticket for Tuesday's drawing, it would stand to reason that I didn't win millions of dollars this week. Ipso facto, these lazy and unproductive days will have to come to an end before too much longer. Mom made lasagna for dinner tonight and I got the rest of my music converted to mp3 format though, so the day can't be considered a total waste.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
9/16/09
Whether fortunately or unfortunately, your don doesn't seem to possess the ability to cry. For the second time in the past week though, I did find myself at least a little choked up. The first time took place in our nation's capital on Saturday as a few hundred thousand people stood and sang along with Ray Charles' version of America the Beautiful. I'm well aware that roughly half the country will agree with any given political view and roughly half the country will disagree, but to see so many people standing and singing along with such an awesome recording was quite moving. I think that almost everyone in this country thinks that America the Beautiful captures the spirit of what we're all about, even if we disagree vehemently about the methodology.
The second time came tonight.
The gentleman standing alone at the center of the photo is Ernie Harwell. If you need to know who Ernie Harwell is, I'll help you out. Mr. Harwell has an incurable cancer and will be leaving this world within the next year or so. He spoke to the crowd at Comerica Park this evening and I was fortunate enough to be in attendance. (I can't remember if it was 'appreciation' or 'gratitude' or something else that I was supposed to express, so we'll just say that my friend Ashley gets 'mad props' for getting me a ticket to the game tonight.) For the second time in the past week, I was most certainly overcome with emotion.
Ernie's speech was exactly what most of us would have expected. He didn't try to make another Lou Gehrig moment out of it, nor to reflect on any of his own personal accomplishments. Instead he chose to take a couple of very brief minutes and thank the people of Michigan for the opportunity to broadcast Tiger baseball for more than 40 years. He didn't dwell on his own fate, but instead expressed admiration for the residents of a state that has most certainly fallen on hard times of late. "The Lord has blessed me with a great journey," Mr. Harwell said. And at that point I came about as close to crying as my present abilities seem to allow. A fan from Lincoln Park caught that one, Ernie. Thanks for the memories.
Aside from a little re-shuffling of the personal schedule to accommodate the ballgame, today went about as planned. I was able to tie up some loose ends and also visit with a friend for lunch. After lunch, while I was at the terminal trying to tidy up my truck, I received a satellite message. It stated that my gold service ring had arrived in Joplin and that I could either pick it up there or have it shipped to me. (Shipped to me, obviously.) So it followed that I would need to receive a fax and send back a release form asking for the ring to be shipped. I sat in the drivers' lounge for a while but my fax never came in, so I blew it off and left. Screw it. I'll get my damned ring sooner or later.
Two more days off before I have to report for duty, it seems. My, how the time flies.
The second time came tonight.
The gentleman standing alone at the center of the photo is Ernie Harwell. If you need to know who Ernie Harwell is, I'll help you out. Mr. Harwell has an incurable cancer and will be leaving this world within the next year or so. He spoke to the crowd at Comerica Park this evening and I was fortunate enough to be in attendance. (I can't remember if it was 'appreciation' or 'gratitude' or something else that I was supposed to express, so we'll just say that my friend Ashley gets 'mad props' for getting me a ticket to the game tonight.) For the second time in the past week, I was most certainly overcome with emotion.
Ernie's speech was exactly what most of us would have expected. He didn't try to make another Lou Gehrig moment out of it, nor to reflect on any of his own personal accomplishments. Instead he chose to take a couple of very brief minutes and thank the people of Michigan for the opportunity to broadcast Tiger baseball for more than 40 years. He didn't dwell on his own fate, but instead expressed admiration for the residents of a state that has most certainly fallen on hard times of late. "The Lord has blessed me with a great journey," Mr. Harwell said. And at that point I came about as close to crying as my present abilities seem to allow. A fan from Lincoln Park caught that one, Ernie. Thanks for the memories.
Aside from a little re-shuffling of the personal schedule to accommodate the ballgame, today went about as planned. I was able to tie up some loose ends and also visit with a friend for lunch. After lunch, while I was at the terminal trying to tidy up my truck, I received a satellite message. It stated that my gold service ring had arrived in Joplin and that I could either pick it up there or have it shipped to me. (Shipped to me, obviously.) So it followed that I would need to receive a fax and send back a release form asking for the ring to be shipped. I sat in the drivers' lounge for a while but my fax never came in, so I blew it off and left. Screw it. I'll get my damned ring sooner or later.
Two more days off before I have to report for duty, it seems. My, how the time flies.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
9/15/09
Despite it's propensity for dumbing down the culture and allowing text messages to replace actual conversation, technology can be pretty cool sometimes. I've had this monstrosity of a CD changer for years and years. It holds 200 discs in a carousel and spits out whichever track you want. The trouble is that it's freaking huge. The other trouble is that you have to look through a catalog of disc jackets to find the track numbers of the songs that you want. The other trouble is that it stopped working a long time ago and I never felt like paying to get it fixed.
Before I headed home last week, I placed an order for a couple of hard drives. One is a big 1 TB daddy that has to be plugged in. That one will now be populated with backup images of my hard drive whenever I come home. In case of a repeat of the infamous May 30 affair, I would prefer not to have to go back to the factory image and then re-download all of my programs again. I can, however, handle getting by with the factory settings until I pop into Chez Godfather for a re-image. On the truck though, I have no consistent power supply to run such a big drive. Therefore I also grabbed a nice 300 GB model that is powered through the USB port. That one, at a tidy 3"x5", will now replace my monstrosity of a CD changer. And it was only something like seventy bucks. Beauty.
I'm into what I guess we would call my vacation week now, since I plan to toss my second week of extra pay for the year on this check. I'm not due on the board until Saturday morning, so it's plenty tempting to lie around and do nothing for a few more days. I did manage to drag my ass out and do some running around today though, in an effort not to leave too much for the last day at home. Tomorrow is shaping up to be another busy one, from the looks of things. And Friday... Ah well, when you're a dickhead like I am, you probably shouldn't complain too loudly about social engagements. Might come back to town one of these times and find that everyone forgot about me.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some music ripping to do.
Before I headed home last week, I placed an order for a couple of hard drives. One is a big 1 TB daddy that has to be plugged in. That one will now be populated with backup images of my hard drive whenever I come home. In case of a repeat of the infamous May 30 affair, I would prefer not to have to go back to the factory image and then re-download all of my programs again. I can, however, handle getting by with the factory settings until I pop into Chez Godfather for a re-image. On the truck though, I have no consistent power supply to run such a big drive. Therefore I also grabbed a nice 300 GB model that is powered through the USB port. That one, at a tidy 3"x5", will now replace my monstrosity of a CD changer. And it was only something like seventy bucks. Beauty.
I'm into what I guess we would call my vacation week now, since I plan to toss my second week of extra pay for the year on this check. I'm not due on the board until Saturday morning, so it's plenty tempting to lie around and do nothing for a few more days. I did manage to drag my ass out and do some running around today though, in an effort not to leave too much for the last day at home. Tomorrow is shaping up to be another busy one, from the looks of things. And Friday... Ah well, when you're a dickhead like I am, you probably shouldn't complain too loudly about social engagements. Might come back to town one of these times and find that everyone forgot about me.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some music ripping to do.
Monday, September 14, 2009
9/14/09
Nothing like a nice lazy day to do a fella some good. I have been tied up with a bunch of financial and computer housekeeping for the last several hours, but that's still a change of pace from all of the running to and fro. Probably gonna have to get back into action tomorrow though. Relaxing all day sounds much better.
I think it might be time to go ahead and win that Mega Millions or something.
I think it might be time to go ahead and win that Mega Millions or something.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
9/13/09
Okay, let's put a wrap on the weekend here before bedtime. I am a bit exhausted after all is said and done but, given my natural sleep patterns, we can take this as a good sign.
It occurs to me as I review yesterday's missive that I failed to note the best part of the trip back to the hotel. We were on the Red Line heading out toward the Shady Grove station. The older of my two little brothers was talking with some young girl for a few minutes and then he started to get off the train at the wrong stop. He realized his error, got back on very quickly, and then sat across from my youngest brother and me. We were "talking shit" (to use his words) about his inability to keep his head up or his eyes open. He was making offensive hand gestures to inform us that he could hear us. Good times. Good times.
Somewhere along the way we learned that the young lady had given him a gift. You would have to read this blog every once in a while to know the significance here, but that gift was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Yeah, I know, seriously. As I learned more of the back story today, I decided that any involvement of PB&J in my life should probably be included in this blog. So...
The girl and her friends had made forty sandwiches on Saturday afternoon. They got on the Metro with hopes of being able to help feed some of the less fortunate people in the area. For six hours, they rode from station to station. They approached people who appeared to be disheveled and so forth. After six hours, they had managed to give away... zero sandwiches. "Get the fuck away from me," seemed to be the most common response. (I'm not sure if the girls said it that way or if my brother substituted his own terminology. Either way, the story is fairly clear.) So the girls were feeling a bit disappointed as they headed home. Enter three drunken brothers...
My brother listened to the story from these teenagers and, in his infinite drunken wisdom, told them that he was awfully hungry and a sandwich sounded pretty good. They were more than happy to give him one. Perhaps a goofy drunk is as good as a homeless person when it comes to receiving charity. I don't know. The girls then told him that the next station was Shady Grove and he followed them off the train. He saw that he was underground (we had boarded above ground in the morning) and that his two drunken brothers were still on the train. So he hopped back on before the doors closed. This was the point where the talking and gesturing and laughing and such took place.
We went to the next station (the actual Shady Grove station) and got off the train. Somehow, through methods that I haven't fully figured out, the young girls were outside the station when we disembarked. Maybe there was a wormhole from one station to the next or something. I don't know. I just know that they got off the train at the Rockville station and they were present when we arrived at the next stop. That's not the important part though. I'm inadvertently burying the lede here.
The girls still had their picnic basket. Their new buddy (my brother) asked them for a couple more sandwiches to feed his hungry brothers and they were happy to oblige. One sandwich went flying across the parking lot in front of me. It turns out that my youngest brother wasn't hungry and instead felt like being a belligerent ass. I, on the other hand, accepted their gift with delight and scarfed that sucker down in a hurry. So let's cut to the chase here... PB&J on the same day as unlimited beer and on the same day as a gathering of hundreds of thousands of ignorant right-wing hayseeds like myself. And I didn't even have to go to Nebraska. Dude, seriously.
Today brought a long ride home and then a drive out to the northwestern 'burbs for dinner with some friends. Tomorrow I believe I'm telling the secretary here at Fenian Godfather, Inc. to cancel all appointments and leave the phone off the hook. I think I need to cool my heels for at least one day.
It occurs to me as I review yesterday's missive that I failed to note the best part of the trip back to the hotel. We were on the Red Line heading out toward the Shady Grove station. The older of my two little brothers was talking with some young girl for a few minutes and then he started to get off the train at the wrong stop. He realized his error, got back on very quickly, and then sat across from my youngest brother and me. We were "talking shit" (to use his words) about his inability to keep his head up or his eyes open. He was making offensive hand gestures to inform us that he could hear us. Good times. Good times.
Somewhere along the way we learned that the young lady had given him a gift. You would have to read this blog every once in a while to know the significance here, but that gift was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Yeah, I know, seriously. As I learned more of the back story today, I decided that any involvement of PB&J in my life should probably be included in this blog. So...
The girl and her friends had made forty sandwiches on Saturday afternoon. They got on the Metro with hopes of being able to help feed some of the less fortunate people in the area. For six hours, they rode from station to station. They approached people who appeared to be disheveled and so forth. After six hours, they had managed to give away... zero sandwiches. "Get the fuck away from me," seemed to be the most common response. (I'm not sure if the girls said it that way or if my brother substituted his own terminology. Either way, the story is fairly clear.) So the girls were feeling a bit disappointed as they headed home. Enter three drunken brothers...
My brother listened to the story from these teenagers and, in his infinite drunken wisdom, told them that he was awfully hungry and a sandwich sounded pretty good. They were more than happy to give him one. Perhaps a goofy drunk is as good as a homeless person when it comes to receiving charity. I don't know. The girls then told him that the next station was Shady Grove and he followed them off the train. He saw that he was underground (we had boarded above ground in the morning) and that his two drunken brothers were still on the train. So he hopped back on before the doors closed. This was the point where the talking and gesturing and laughing and such took place.
We went to the next station (the actual Shady Grove station) and got off the train. Somehow, through methods that I haven't fully figured out, the young girls were outside the station when we disembarked. Maybe there was a wormhole from one station to the next or something. I don't know. I just know that they got off the train at the Rockville station and they were present when we arrived at the next stop. That's not the important part though. I'm inadvertently burying the lede here.
The girls still had their picnic basket. Their new buddy (my brother) asked them for a couple more sandwiches to feed his hungry brothers and they were happy to oblige. One sandwich went flying across the parking lot in front of me. It turns out that my youngest brother wasn't hungry and instead felt like being a belligerent ass. I, on the other hand, accepted their gift with delight and scarfed that sucker down in a hurry. So let's cut to the chase here... PB&J on the same day as unlimited beer and on the same day as a gathering of hundreds of thousands of ignorant right-wing hayseeds like myself. And I didn't even have to go to Nebraska. Dude, seriously.
Today brought a long ride home and then a drive out to the northwestern 'burbs for dinner with some friends. Tomorrow I believe I'm telling the secretary here at Fenian Godfather, Inc. to cancel all appointments and leave the phone off the hook. I think I need to cool my heels for at least one day.
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