7/3/10

Do you see all of those people gathered around the fire?  Of course you don't.  There's nobody around.  It's the middle of the night and I'm the only moron who is awake.  Now you've learned as much about me as you would learn by following multiple years' posts on this web log.  I'm never quite sure when to call it quits.  Story of my life.

After a long, long night last night, I was awake pretty early this morning.  My youngest  brother and my father were going fishing, so they were up at the crack of dawn.  Since I sleep about as soundly as a paranoid cocaine addict before a court hearing, I too was up at the crack of dawn.  I managed to fall back asleep after they hit the road, so that was pretty nice.  Then, after I woke for realsies, Mom made breakfast.  That was really nice.

I spent most of the day hanging around with my niece and nephew.  As many of you already know, I tend to be an absentee uncle for the most part.  Opportunities to spend some time with my sister's kids are more than welcome, even if I do have to bite my tongue sometimes.  Not everybody has been taught in the manner that I would teach things.  They're not my kids though, so I have to restrain myself.  It's a good exercise on both sides.  Seriously.

Tonight's dinner was a combination of burgers and sausages.  Generally speaking, even when I'm the one who has shelled out the money to purchase the meat, my father is the one who does the grilling in this family.  For some reason he wasn't in the mood this evening though, so I wound up doing the cooking.  In completely unrelated news, tonight's burgers and sausages were far more flavorful and juicy than usual.  One of those weird coincidences, I'm sure.

After a delicious dinner, it was time for the transition from day to night.  I'm not entirely oblivious to the plight of many of my fellow Americans who are suffering the effects of a rough economy, so you'll understand that I'm not inclined to discuss dollar figures here.  I'll just say that I spent an awful lot of money on fireworks for this weekend.  You know what's funny though?  Quite a few of the fireworks that I purchased were bottle rockets that would provide some entertainment tonight, before my big show begins tomorrow.  Some were really loud.  Others were really colorful.  The things that caught everyone's attention though, despite their nice cheap price tag, were my sky lanterns.  I ain't gonna bullshit you.  Those things really are awesome.

The night dragged on for a while and, after my brother launched the last bottle rocket, people began to go to bed.  At first it was the usual suspects. My sister's kids were out of commision.  Then my mother.  Then my brother.  The neighbors, who had stopped by for a while, managed to retreat during this time as well.  I was left to sit by the fire with my father, my sister, and her husband.  My brother-in-law... you know... fuck it.  That's a long story.  We'll just say that Dad went to bed and then the other two followed.

And now we're left with me.  I'll have to sleep sooner or later.  It's inevitable.  For now though, the classic rock on the radio and the last few logs of firewood have convinced me to stay awake.  I have issues.

7/2/10

There are certain things that we Michiganians do as a matter of ritual.  One of these things is that we refuse to call ourselves Michiganders, whether or not our state is willing to adopt an 'official term.'  Another of these things takes place on holiday weekends.  Those of us from the southern part of the state, where there are plenty of things for civilized people to do, pack our shit and head to the northern part of the state, where there is very little for civilized people to do.  Don't ask why.  That's just the way it is.

Today began a little earlier than I would prefer, given that 10am is the earliest point at which I consider life to be worth living.  I perceive 7am to be the province of psychopaths and degenerates, but that's when I woke today.  Bummer.  I got up and headed over to the terminal in order to clear some things out of my truck.  After a lengthy stay on the road (like my most recent one), my truck tends to get a bit cluttered.  In such a case I prefer to drag everything out of the truck and then start over again.  I didn't manage to get everything out of my truck this morning, but I did make some progress.

After my trip to the terminal and a subsequent visit to McDonald's for breakfast, I had some time to kill.  I needed to get a birthday gift for my father and a few things for myself, but the stores weren't open yet.  (More proof that only an asshole would wake at 7am on a day when he didn't have to work.)  So I went home and watched another James Bond movie.

In the afternoon, after I headed back across town to the shopping mall, I noticed a couple of things.  First was that I buy my clothes in stores where very attractive people shop.  Second was that people who look like me tend to shop elsewhere.  Those people who look like me shop at places like Gander Mountain.  I can find nothing appealing about such a place (meaning that I need to work on my appearance, obviously), but I did manage to find a decent birthday gift for Dad.  Good enough.

Later in the afternoon, it was time to deal with that bizzare ritualistic pilgrimage to the northern half of the state.  I headed out along I-94 and flipped on the radio.  There were reports of tie-ups near the airport.  I live near the airport.  No traffic as far as I could see.  After I continued along for a while, there were reports of traffic along I-96 in the western suburbs.  I was on I-96 in the western suburbs.  No traffic as far as I could see.  Some time later, there were reports of traffic at a dead stop at the junction of I-96 and US-23.  I was approaching the junction of I-96 and US-23.  No traf... wait a minute... okay yeah, traffic was pretty fucked up there.  Time to duck off and get some dinner.

I got back on the road around an hour later and found that everything was rolling nicely.  Until I approached the Saginaw area, that is.

There's a stretch between Flint and Saginaw where the freeway has four traffic lanes.  Why they would get four lanes while those of us in Wayne County have to suffer through three lanes full of potholes, I don't know.  That's just the way it is.  At some point though, the four lanes are whittled down to three.  The left lane ends, so the people in the left lane should begin to merge gradually to the right.  If you think they do so... haha... I laugh at you.  Of course they don't do so.  The people in the left lane drive along until they run out of road.  Then they panic and jam themselves into the left-center lane at 10-20mph.  Then the people in the left-center lane freak out and jam themselves into the right-center lane.  Then the people in the right-center lane freak out and jam themselves into the right lane.  Hey... guess which lane has people trying to merge into it from the freeway entrance ramp on the right.  Yeah, this is what we Michiganians do on holiday weekends.  It's in our DNA.

As I sat parked in traffic on the Zilwaukee Bridge, I received a phone call from my mother.  She was wondering when I would be heading up for the family holiday weekend and such.  Already on the way, mama.  I told her of my predicament and she suggested that I should take the exit for MI-13 on the north side of the bridge.  I took the exit.  Then I sat stationary for ten minutes.  Then I wanted to kick my mother's ass.  There was a bridge under construction on MI-13, causing the delay.  After I made it across that bridge though, things shook out and the rest of the trip was fine.

The family is set to arrive up here in a piecemeal fashion.  My father has been here all week.  My mother arrived yesterday with my sister's kids.  I got here this evening.  My youngest brother showed up a couple of hours later.  My sister and her husband will be here tomorrow afternoon.  My other brother and his wife will be here on Sunday morning.  Once all is said and done, the whole crew will be around.  Then we'll head over to my aunt's place and we'll put the fear of God into anyone who wanders onto Lake Huron.  Be afraid.  Be very, very afraid.

Hey, awesome, it's the middle of the night and I'm awake after everyone else has gone to bed.  Why ask why?

7/1/10

It's the small luxuries that really matter, I think.  I had some business matters to tend this morning, so not surprisingly I couldn't sleep last night.  Story of my life.  I was sharp enough though, once I shook off the cobwebs, and everything went as well as could be expected.  After an afternoon of running around and tying up loose ends, it was time to head back home.

A buddy of mine has fallen on hard times of late, so my car is his main mode of transportation.  Since I'm out of town most of the time, there don't tend to be any scheduling conflicts.  He's not working so I do what I need to do when I'm around and he goes where he needs to go when I'm gone.  I'll be going up north to my parents' place tomorrow, taking my car with me, so he headed out to buy some groceries this evening.  Then he returned with a few 40 oz. bottles of Pabst.  This particular brew tends to ellicit images of Kid Rock or other folks of the 'wannabe trucker' variety these days.  For me though, it's a reminder of Clint Eastwood in the movie Gran Torino.  "Get off my lawn."  I love it.  I hadn't intended to have any beer tonight, but who am I to refuse a gift?  There are people in Zimbabwe who have never even heard of beer, after all.

6/30/10

I would venture to guess that, among my social circle, I watch less television than anyone else.  I watch Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy with my father whenever I stop by to visit and I watch various sporting events whenever the opportunity presents itself.  Aside from these examples, I really can't think of anything that I make it a point to see.  It's not that I have a serious aversion to television or anything.  I'll download and watch episodes of this and that, in order to kill some time, whenever the mood strikes me.  I just don't get that much enjoyment out of the medium.

Given what I've said above, it should come as no surprise that I'm not all that enamored with the prospect of HDTV and 3D and all the rest.  My television is an old 27" model from Curtis Mathes.  I bought it with the last $150 that I had to my name, the day after my ex-wife finally moved out (and took all of my belongings with her).  That was over eight years ago.  And that old television is still kicking.  About the only use that it gets these days is from my buddy playing video games, but it works, by golly.  As long as the picture on the screen reflects whatever the broadcaster wants me to see, I can find no reason to buy something bigger and better.

So, this morning, I came to the realization that I was going to have to do some laundry.  My laundry bag with dirty work clothes was lying next to my hamper with its own share of dirty 'home' clothes.  Something had to give.  The washer and dryer in my apartment building each cost $1.25.  After digging around the couch cushions, I found that I had three quarters.  The usual routine would be to drive down the street, grab some cash from the ATM, buy a candy bar from the party store on the corner to break a twenty dollar bill, stop by the car wash next door and use the change machine, then wash my clothes.  The usual routine wasn't going to work today though.

When you have seventeen dollars (which is less than $20) in your checking account, the story necessarily changes. The ATM option wouldn't work, so what was left? Go to the bank and write myself a check for ten dollars? Transfer some money from savings to checking so I could use the ATM?  Yeah, sure, either of those choices would take care of the situation, but I went with a third option. 

My youngest brother was laid off from his construction job a few weeks ago.  He moved back in with my parents to save money.  Apparently the folks in Michigan didn't get the memo about Recovery Summer or something.  Anyhow, shortly after my little brother got his pink slip, my father stepped off a ladder at work and hurt his knee.  Since he is a cement finisher and thus works on his knees most of the time, Dad is now headed for a knee replacement and an early retirement.  So... the crew working at the local oil refinery had an opening to fill.  And so my brother got his job back.  Funny how life works out sometimes.

Since my brother is working now, he's out of the house during the day.  Since my father isn't working now and my mother is taking vacation time, they're at their place up north for the week.  Sounds to me like someone has a washer and dryer just sitting there, waiting to be used.  Beauty.

After tossing the first load of laundry into the washer, I fired up my brother's television to see what was on.  During most days on the road I listen to the CNBC broadcast on my XM Radio.  I'm a greedy capitalist pig by nature, so I like to stay informed about the financial world and such.  On the radio, I've always enjoyed listening to Mandy Drury.  She was filling in for Melissa Francis while Ms. Francis was on maternity leave.  A smartass attitude and an Australian accent are A-OK with me.  Until today though, I never knew what she looked like.  Ms. Drury anchored today's broadcast.  Yeah buddy.  (Honorable mention goes to Trish Regan on the same show.)

So then I had a little bit of reason to question my ambivalence toward HDTV.  That's just a financial network though.  I certainly wouldn't decide whether or not to watch (or listen) based on the dames.  After a couple of loads of laundry made their way through the washer and dryer, I pulled up the programming guide to see what was coming on next.  I do get a kick out of Erin Burnett and her quirky humor as well, but I thought that I had heard enough financial chit-chat for today.

Lo and behold, Los Tigres had an afternoon game in Minnesota.  At the start of the day, the Twinkies were only half a game in front of Detroit.  I still had several loads of laundry to do, so it was time to hit CVS for a six pack and then watch the ballgame.  Summary of the HDTV broadcast - I don't hate it.  Probably not gonna rush out to Best Buy any time soon, but I can see what people like about the technology.  After all, I'm better off not seeing shit like this, right?





After the laundry was all done, my brother came home from work and we had a chance to kibitz about the upcoming weekend's fireworks display. It looks like we'll be launching from my aunt's place along the edge of Lake Huron.  It also looks like we'll need to procure enough plywood to provide launching stations and perhaps enough wood to build catwalks along the lake bed.  The water level may or may not be high enough to cause access problems.

Now, if you'll excuse me, the Mythbusters are about to figure out the fastest way to cool a six-pack.  This is required viewing... you know... for people with cable.

6/29/10

Being an over the road truck driver can impact one's life in various ways, either positively or negatively.  Most of the negative aspects of the job are discussed ad nauseam by people inside and outside the industry.  One significant negative about the job is routinely overlooked, however, and it's time that everyone was made aware.  Being an over the road truck driver will do terrible things to your golf game.  As tends to be the case with every round of golf though, I did manage to hit enough good shots to make me think the next time will be better.

It was a beautiful sunny day and the temperature wasn't too high, so an afternoon on the links was just what the doctor ordered.  Now the evening appears to be all set up for a couple more James Bond flicks.  I've fallen behind the necessary pace to get them all watched before I leave town again.  Time to get back to work.

6/28/10

My secret agent training fell behind schedule today.  While I should have been watching a few more James Bond movies, I wound up going through a couple of seasons of South Park instead.  I'll have to get back on track tomorrow.  I know that the world is counting on me.

6/27/10

The bulk of my day was spent helping a friend out with an event that he had been planning for months.  His granddaughter, a recent high school graduate, is a very talented classical musician.  She plays five instruments and most recently taught herself to play the bassoon.  I'm told that this is very difficult to do.  My friend's father, on the other hand, neither plays an instrument nor recently graduated from high school.  He does, however, like to watch the classical musicians on PBS.  Since he's approaching his one-hundredth birthday, quite a bit of his time is spent watching television, as you might imagine.

So my aforementioned friend came up with a pretty sound idea.  He would buy tickets for his father, his daughter, his granddaughter, and his son-in-law to see André Rieu tonight at the Fox Theatre in Detroit.  I would ride to Mexicantown with the two old guys, where we would meet the others for dinner.  Then, after the meal, we would drop everyone off at the theatre.  The two of us (my friend and I) would take the two cars back to his house in Lincoln Park, then return to the theatre when the show was over.  His daughter's family would take their car back up to Clarkston, where they live, and the rest of us would roll back down to LP in the other car.

As far as plans go, this one played out pretty effectively.  I stopped by my friend's house this afternoon and shot the breeze with his father for a while.  We drove up to Detroit and arrived at El Zocalo right after the heavy rains had moved through.  Dinner was quite good and everyone had an enjoyable time.  Even my friend's father seemed to be yukking it up quite a bit.  This was a change of pace from his typical demeanor since the passing of his wife not too long ago.  Good deal.

Aside from providing an extra body to transport the second car back and forth, I suspect that I was recruited for this evening's mission because I know my way around town.  Apparently nobody else was familiar with the lay of the land.  For an amateur, it can be easy to get thrown off course when moving from Mexicantown to the theatre district.  For a pro it's not a problem.  I am a professional driver, technically speaking, but I'm more of a pro when it comes to ballgames and the dinners that follow them.  The Fox is right across from Comerica Park, so there you go.

Across the freeway on Vernor, past the abandoned train station (an impressive sight, even in it's decayed state), up past Michigan Avenue, onto I-75, back off of I-75, over Grand River, and up to Woodward, no problemo.  We pulled up in front of the Fox and let everyone out, then took the cars back to my friend's house.  After he and I headed back out and did a little running around, we settled in and waited for 9:30pm to come around.  The show was set to end at 9:35pm, so we figured that everyone would be back outside a few minutes after that.  Aside from having to battle some tour buses for position in front of the theatre, this part also went quite smoothly.

My friend and his father got in the car that I was driving, the others took their car, and we all were happily homeward bound.

Now, I told you that fairly mundane story to set the foundation for this observation - dementia is a motherfucker.

I happen to know, from numerous conversations, that André Rieu is a favorite of my friend's father.  Between the old man's stories of killing Japs in the Pacific, he occasionally takes time to talk about beautiful violin concertos and so forth.  Since his wife died, however, he has become convinced that his son is plotting to kill him.  As many of you with elderly relatives probably already know, there are some days when things are a little better and other days when they're a little worse.  My friend went to great lengths to make this a day when things would be a little better.

First of all, he lied to his father and said that the daughter's family had bought the tickets to the show.  Since the idea supposedly came from them and not from my friend, it was a great idea.  Secondly, as far as the old man knew, I was the one who decided to buy everyone dinner tonight.  For some reason that will never be fully explained, I'm held in very high esteem by that guy.  If I offer to buy him anything, there's no way he can be disappointed.

So all of the bases were covered and everything went according to plan.  On the way back to Lincoln Park, after we made our way out of the traffic, my friend asked his father how he liked the show.  Apparently the show sucked, the Fox Theatre is a nightmare, there were nothing but old people at the show and this pissed him off, the restrooms were too far from the seats, he doesn't like that kind of music, etc.  You can see where that conversation was going.  The only positive thing that he had to say was that the usher was a fellow WWII veteran and he moved the four of them to front row seats.  Of course this part didn't actually happen, but he told the story with such conviction that one couldn't help but let him believe it.

My friend is a retired minister who spent several years providing hospice and bereavement counseling to families.  He has seen every step along life's journey from an objective viewpoint, so he'll tell you that this is just one of those things with which he has to deal.  There's no way you can be completely objective when it's your family though.  I'm only partially perceptive, part of the time, but even I can see that this is wearing on him.  He bends over backwards to take care of his father, never receiving as much as a single 'thank you' for his efforts.  He spent two months plotting every last detail of this evening and, as far as anyone knows, his father had a miserable time.  That, as the kids these days like to say, sucks ass.

You know who never seems to have a bad day?  My buddy Sjoe.  I might be starting to understand why.