gonna learn this thing as many times as it takes

Apparently I can't be trusted around the beer. Yesterday was my day off. Okay, I do have two whole days off this week, but yesterday was the one that I did not have the kids with me at the end of it. They were at Momma's, and because I work a night shift today will be there again tonight, though that has nothing to do with any of this story.

Because I didn't have the kids I was able to go out last night, and before doing so I told myself how good I was going to be.

I kinda have a habit, when I know I won't have the kids, of drinking more than I should. I used to be much worse about it, and having them at my apartment more often has led to me drinking a lot less than I've been used to.

Which is a good thing. I get to bed earlier and sleep better lately, and that's nice. But then I finally get a night to myself and go a little crazy, or stupid, depending on how you look at it. I could agree to either, though there wasn't a lot of craziness last night.

I left my apartment some time between four and five. I debated riding my bike, but I had plenty of time and love the walk between home and downtown, so I walked.

I ran into a couple of coworkers as I reached downtown and allowed them to talk me into loading myself down with stuff that they were moving from car to apartment. That done I hit the pub, ran into some friends and had my first couple of beers as well as a couple slices of pizza from somewhere. Next, as part of my intelligent plan, I ate at the Mexican place and had another couple of beers as well as a shot of tequila. The shot may have been my downfall as tequila has so often been in the past. Perhaps I need to relearn the lesson?

My intelligent plan involves me knowing that I drink too much given the chance. Last night however I thought about it. Yesterday before I even went anywhere I thought about it. I knew/know the thing I do, and I was hoping I'd recognize it before it happened. I planned to spend the whole night out, eating enough and drinking little enough so that I was able to enjoy myself and not be drunken me.

To my credit I didn't do anything horrible, did not treat anyone poorly, did not tell anyone how their band reminded me of things that suck. I didn't even see the band I had hoped to see.

I ended up at a different bar, ate some chicken tenders, drank another couple of beers, started to doze off at the bar, realized I was dozing off at the bar, and came home. I knew I was drunk, and I knew that my night was at an end, and I was sad to realize I'd completely done myself in by nine o'clock.

Yes, I was walking home drunk by nine. My amazing and intelligent plan was never really a plan at all. I drank myself all the way stupid. I did manage to come home and go to bed by a decent time though, and for that I suppose I could be proud. I did also wake up around two this morning, much too thirsty. I drank a few sips of water and laid back down, but as I was turning toward the wall and pulling the covers toward me I realized I needed to be in the bathroom immediately because all that bar food was going to rejoin us on the outside, which it did, and yes, I made it to the bathroom.

As I reread/edit this thing I see "intelligent plan" creeping around as if it was a thing I actually created but didn't follow. I did consider the idea of more of a plan, but it didn't happen. I'm keeping that in mind as I go into the next time I actually get a night out. I have no idea when that will be until I see next week's schedule and compare it to Momma's next week's schedule.

In a sense I'm happy to have gotten the night over with in the way I did. In another sense I'm yet again frustrated by my inability to take my time and ease into a night out. I wasn't out long enough to do anything stupid or piss anyone off. I didn't yell at anyone. I think I covered this part already, pretty thoroughly actually, but I'm being my cheerleader and trying to unfrustrate myself.

Now it's today. I slept in for the first time in weeks, though sleeping in for me these days is ten o'clock. And I was actually up before that. I woke much before that, but I finally got to lay in bed and stretch and luxuriate in my bed and covers and stretch some more. I dozed on and off and didn't even mind when my alarm went off. I don't remember setting it, but I got to hear some of the morning NPR stuff that I immediately forgot. Great ear for news and current events on this guy, let me tell ya.

Now I've had Cheerios and coffee and am currently enjoying some iced tea. I need to get out into the beautiful, sun filled outside. I need to find my panniers and get to the store. I've got plenty of food for a couple more days, but need paper based cleaning products of the bathroom specific variety. I go through a lot more of that stuff lately having the kids around more.

Finally, Mos Def Pandora is my current favorite thing.

keyboard drama

I may, at some point, have mentioned that my computer keyboard was dirty and had sticky keys. In the past couple of weeks I've accidentally typed more periods and J's than anyone could ever need. You should see the bill, though I hope to be able to talk to the letter company about the issue.

You may not remember that I griped about it on Facebook, but I did. A friend commented that keyboards are dishwasher safe. To me that sounds within the realm of possibility. I don't know a lot about computers, like really, though I can manage. You should see my repeated daily attempts to get the damn thing to accept that there is wifi out there for it and acquiring a network address can't really be that hard. But then I don't know what the hell a network address is beyond putting the meanings of the words together and making a guess.

I don't have a dishwasher, so of course I wasn't going that route, and I wasn't entirely sure that she didn't suggest such as a bit of a joke. I mentioned that it doesn't sound impossible that a keyboard could be dishwasher safe, but it also sounds like kind of a load of bullshit.

Another friend soon chimed in seconding the safety of the process as I was googling. I saw some suggestions that it could be okay and other general keyboard cleaning suggestions.

My plan, finally, was to remove the keycaps and wash them separately while hosing down the surface of the keyboard beneath them. I have to stop here and mention how truly dirty this damn thing was. I know the sort of group this computer came from, but I don't know which department. Either way, the amount of soft drink remains and hair under the keycaps was just short of revolting. Thankfully, the amount of sugar in soft drinks makes it easily removable with hot water, and the hair washed away alongside the drink, so it seemed as though we were in good shape.

The keycaps dried quickly enough, but the keyboard wanted to be drippy, and I should probably at least have given it a truly reasonable amount of time to dry, but I didn't do that. I did however plug it in too soon and cause something to happen that I can't now explain. Apparently holding down certain keys for five seconds causes the computer to go into some mode that then makes nothing work except an almost ominous beeping sound. It did give me a message on the screen possibly explaining what was happening, but I ignored it. Looking  back . . .

Knowing what my likely culprit was, water still in keyboard due to impatience on my part, I unplugged it and decided to take it apart. Surely I could dry it if I was careful. Most assuredly, I thought.

I was surprised at how little there is inside a keyboard. I don't suppose I'm as surprised with a few days behind me to think about it. I'm also still a bit amazed at human ingenuity and technical achievement. We can be pretty awesome when we want to.

None of that really matters in the end if you've destroyed your keyboard. I can't say that the water didn't do it because it's just as likely that I messed it all up by taking it apart to dry it. I did get it dry, but it still doesn't work.

And you can still operate some things without a keyboard. If you're still signed into sites you can visit, but Facebook with commenting isn't fun for any of us. Youtube with the videos they offer you is pop music that I reject by not listening to commercial radio and by using the search option. Without the internet you're left with Minesweeper unless your mouse also sorta sucks and free cell. I can only take so many of those cards before I flip my shit the rest of the way.

There is yet another keyboard, and I'm once again able to interact with the world using words. Okay, I've got my rather intelligent phone, but seriously, give me the keyboard and big screen so my head doesn't explode. I actually love my phone quite a bit, and more than that I appreciate that tiny, pocket sized computer. But it isn't the same sometimes.

Currently, the keyboard I'm using is from the much older computer, the one Momma and I bought when I first worked at the pub about eight years ago. That computer has been through some issues and is currently refusing to so much as turn on. It's at Momma's waiting for one of us to take the time to remove the hard drive and get someone to help us remove from it what we want.And now, were it to suddenly want to work, there is no keyboard to help tell it what to do.

Such is life, I suppose.

And now I'm looking at this keyboard and realizing how dirty it is. The keycaps are gray, or were gray, though there's a certain brown about them all now. The ones that get tapped the most are, or appear to be, clean on the top. I'm starting to think about . . .

No, seriously, if I just stick to the caps and don't let any water get near the base. And I can do it tomorrow, because I won't be near the computer again till Friday evening so that they will definitely be dry . . . Or I can get really high and get qtips and alcohol and get anal retentive.

Speaking of which, I had no idea Colorado was about to legalize marijuana. Did they keep that quiet to avoid it blowing up their faces, or am I just that out of it? I was probably smoking the day that came up in my feed reader.

new jacket

Yesterday began with a huge irritant made worse by the person inflicting my woe. I of course added to it with anger taken out on a completely innocent fleece jacket that has been my main jacket for a couple of years.

Funny story about that jacket. It's always been a little snug on me, and like many people, but before many also, I went through a bit of a baggy clothes style. Nirvana was big in those days, but I always preferred Mudhoney. Our clothes were a bit large sometimes with lots of flannel shirts and thrift store pants. So I never wore the jacket and at one point gave it to Momma who then also never wore it. I eventually got it back.

From there I did that whole going into the closet thing I still can't make sense of. My look grew from kinda punk to kinda guy that's getting older and is a little self conscious but still kinda punk. I've nearly always worked in kitchens and have seldom had much of dress code that didn't involve essentially my wardrobe. Even now I wear what I want, though having work shirts from the restaurant and pants I set aside solely as work pants is a new adventure. So I'm permanently jeans and a tshirt dude.

There's also the "motorcycle" jacket, purchased in the early days of Momma's and my relationship from a mall leather goods store. It's still in great shape and I've worn it twice in two years. The unfortunate fleece took its place soon after my accident with the beer and some shots and driving into things. Driving a car and/or walking are fine to do while inside a leather "motorcycle" jacket.

Riding a bicycle is a whole other story. I do know a guy that wears a leather jacket while riding a bike, but the less said about him and his spring loaded bouncemobile the better. Seriously, the bike comes from the biggerst of big boxes and is so awful. I've seen blondes waving from the rear dash of convertibles that were less cushy than this guy's bike. My bike would absolutely suck to ride while wearing the jacket I have. None of that is the point however.

And that's fine. I've learned to layer. I don't want the same level of warmth riding to work in the morning as I will want riding home late in the afternoon, and of course the same for night shifts and the late ride. The fleece was nearly perfect if not as windproof as one might like. It dried well enough if it didn't get too rained on, but sometimes that isn't an option you pick or don't pick, though it did seem to keep the water from you while  riding. And I looked good in it.

I did start to wear it on ocaission soon after coming out. I noticed it, remembered it, tried it on, checked the mirror and wondered where it had been all my life. I seriously love it. I thought about searching for the tiny, broken zipper pieces in the hope that maybe I could super glue it back together. I'm not convinced still that I won't try.

Given that I'm confined to my bike, for the most part, I kinda rely on my layers. I don't have any idea what to expect this winter, though if it's like the last one it will be unseasonably warm and will be behind us more quickly than should be regular. At the same time, given some of the temperatures we're seeing and my general hunch, this winter seems like it could go back to a more normal one.

Regardless, I've replaced the fleece with something made out of some polymer resin goop or some shit. I don't know because I've already stuffed the tags in the recycling. But it is the kind of jacket worn by people who want you to know (or at least think) that they are the kind of people who, when they aren't indoors, can be found outdoors doing stuff in the outdoors. They've also embroidered their logoon the jacket's cardinal directions, breast, sleeves, and back. I hadn't actually noticed that till I got it home, so now I really am going to look like those dudes.

Did I mention that the fleece was actually a women's jacket? Not in that I got it from a woman, because I really don't remember, but it was styled more than a men's jacket, part of the looking good, and not because I look good in women's clothes, though I'm sure I do.

I visited two different stores in my quest to find this jacket, both the sort of stores that sell people stuff to make them look they got outdoors to do their outdoors stuff. The first place had a bunch of ugly purple and blue shit designed to be seen by hunters and other hikers. They were more serious about their outdoors, but I didn't like it. Plus the fact that it used to be a cool restaurant, and the wine racks hold water bottles that can take strafing fire from a fighter jet and still keep you water cold, while the bar where I had my first great mojito looks like The Gap if their customers were also into outdoors.

So I went down the block to the more touristy place and found a lot of possibilities, some of which were even on sale. I tried several on, probably looking odd as I raised my arms, stretched, bent forward, swung my arms slowly. I wanted to mimic somewhat the motions I make on my bike and keep in mind that no matter how pretty something is, if it rides up and leaves my ass in the wind it isn't worth any amount of on sale right now.

I knew I'd found the jacket when I found the jacket. It was marked down slightly and marked as for women. It's also a little more fitted than the men's jackets, and I already felt like I probably at least looked all right in it. I didn't check myself out in the mirror because it just kinda felt gay, but I didn't really need to. Okay, I totally did, but I waited till I got home.

I still haven't worn it on the bike. We had a beautifully sunny day here, and I didn't want to miss any of it. I'd worn a flannel which was just enough. It's big enough to easily fit over layers, but it's not so big that I'm smothered in it. I have worn it outside a couple of times to inhale the fumes of burning plant matter, and so far it seems to work well enough.

And yes, knowing me, someone will ask about my new jacket and I will point to and joke about the nut on my jacket. Yes, old as I am, and that's still my best material.

broken record-ish

This is Saturday number two that I've had off lately, and I might have another one next week as well. It tends to precede having to work Sunday, though I'm not convinced it's a fair trade. It's of course made worse because brunch, which I hate working.

I love going to brunch. But then who doesn't? And then of course I'm already downtown on a Sunday, what better than to visit the bars I never see during the week? Of course that never happens despite my best intentions. I end up at the pub watching football or where I work hearing from coworkers about their day.

But I get to work tomorrow and rush home to wash dishes and feed the kids leftovers probably. My day off involved bicycle working on yet again, and though most of it was easy and sorta fun, adjusting brakes is my eternal downfall. I can never seem to get them right until after I've messed them up, and by that point getting them right involves riding on them until I can get my friend or the lbs to fix it right.

And so it will be with Big Brother's bike. The brakes are not exactly right but are good enough for now, and I doubt he'll be going too far just yet anyway. However, given my upcoming work schedule and Thanksgiving holiday I'm planning on planning a ride with him, though ride might mean to either of the close lbs for an adjustment.

Holiday excitement of the bike variety is coming, our local Tour de Lights, which I've already asked off for. Big Brother will want to go as will Momma and The Boy. The Boy still won't ride his bike so much as attempt over and over to position it perfectly. I try to help, but he doesn't want help he doesn't ask for and is more likely to quit if advised. Left to himself he will give himself time to try. Alas it's my nature to guide and advise and make too long stories careen off into what- was-I-talking-about-?-oh-yeah. That's never helpful.

Of course if he doesn't make the christmas ride there's always the spring ride, and by then he's sure to have moved from this crappy bike to his first geared bike. Surely. And hell, maybe by then I'll have stopped talking about bikes all the time.

Based on the quality of our news services these days, I won't be surprised to learn some time tomorrow that Hostess is actually doing just fine.

Given the quality of management basically anywhere, up to and including large frankenfood organizations, I won't be surprised if this is not some elaborate hoax to drive us into a mad Twinkie buying frenzy. I'm thinking New Coke here, and yes, I still believe it was a stunt. It's like Brown Squirrel Furniture going out of business twice a year, and you can still see their ass sitting off I40. Lyin' ass bitches.

But I digress. NPR said it, so it must be true, Hostess is shutting down because their "bakers" went on strike. I do know that it isn't quite that simple.  There's sure to be much more to the story, perhaps even some clever nuance.

I could give a shit. I haven't eaten any of their fine products in quite some time. I do actually have some Reese's cups that I picked up in order to both eat and to spite The Boy. He isn't a sharer of candy, even if it's free, besides the costumed walking around asking for it part. I happened to notice one of my not so guilty pleasures at the local grocer, marked down post Halloween.

I do have a dark chocolate/candied ginger thing that I keep forgetting about, and there are chocolate covered  raisins somewhere. I just don't eat a lot of highly sweetened, shitty food I guess, so I'm trying to imagine the actual affect on me of  there not being  Hostess breads and cakes to continue not purchasing and eating.

And what will the fallout be? Will someone purchase it and continue the operations?  Will America lose a treasured icon and obesity enabler? Will Dr. Wilcox give young Evelyn the bad news? Will I finally get up and get myself a beer?

In closing, I did get myself a beer. It's a New Belgium Snow Day.

baby the bars for the st em of it

I'm taking a break in the middle of accomplishing a bike project. Actually, I'm close to the end, but this last bit is going to be the part that is likely to most try my patience.

Truth be told the bike is probably a tiny bit large for me. I don't have the money to go and get custom fit for a custom bike, though that would be pretty cool if I did. So I'm doing the next best thing, making the bike I have fit as well as possible.

I'm closer to that being a mission accomplished finally after having replaced my old stem with a slightly smaller one. The stem is the part that holds your handlebars, fwiw, You may also hear them referred to as a goose neck.

I did the part where you rip off the old handlebar/grip tape. And I pulled the break levers off. Cleaning the old adhesive off the handlebars is also a thing of the past. The new stem is installed, the handlebars are on it, and the brake levers are reatached. Other than adjusting and tightening the brakes themselves, the last job is to wrap the handlebars in new tape.

Without going into too many specifics, it would be nice if my bike were attached enough to something so that it was still and stable without my having to use my body to make it so. I don't have anything like that, so what I'm left with, in my tiny apartment, is the metal kitchen rack as well as the stripper pole that is part of my kitchen area.

I'll probably lock my bike to the pole and wedge it just so enough. I'm sure I can do it, and I'm also sure it might can wait for tomorrow.  I still need to get the brake/shifter replaced on the mountain bike, and now that I think about it I have to either figure out how to get the grip off and back on or decide to also replace those.  They are old, and I can't imagine paying too horribly much for a pair that is newer and better. I've ridden the mtb lately, and the old grips leave a little something to be desired.

On a related note, the wheel from the bike soon to carry Big Brother is at the lbs getting some spokes on. It should be ready tomorrow. I still need to clean some rust off his handlebars, but shortly after that I'll be doing the second taping job of my life, so perhaps my own bike is practice for his.

Finally, I really wanted sparkly, purple tape to match my saddle. Yes, we cyclists call it a saddle, because it is one. Remind me sometime to tell you about my friend Dutchy. She'd have gotten that joke. As for purple tape, the other lbs found some for eighty bucks. It's leather and from highly regarded saddle maker. I considered my response for exactly no seconds. In fact, I'm certain I uttered the phrase, "Fuck that shit." It definitely sounds like me.

typical wed. anymore

I'm still a night owl. I think my body may just prefer those late night hours that I've essentially given up for the now. I was in bed around midnight last night, hours early for the old me and even now a bit early for me, but I keep reaching this point most nights where I realize that being tired doesn't just go away, that you have to go to sleep.

So I did, and I keep doing it sometimes.

There's this subconscious thing going on in my head telling me I'll miss out on something. I know it's not true, but my body is programmed a certain way, and it isn't always easy undoing that. There's also years of working in restaurants, working such a mix of day and night shifts, too many times when you attempt to force your body to accept four hours of sleep tonight in exchange for up to eight on a night/morning to be determined.

And because today is my day off I could go back to bed. Momma came and took the kids to school, and today is my day off. I could go back to bed, could stretch and luxuriate in the comfort.

Instead I have laundry laundering. There's only the one load, but I'm glad Momma had the quarter I needed to make up the two and a half bucks a wash and dry costs at my apartments, and I'm glad that my single load was exactly a single load. And when that's done there's a shower in my future. After that I have this laundry as well as the last load to fold, and I need to get to last night's dishes before I add more to them. Finally I need to get Momma to be my taxi driver so that I can run some errands. I won't even mention all the bike stuff I need to do. I keep putting that off and could probably turn it into another blog post worthy of my awesome skills, but maybe I won't.

And by eleven o'clock tonight I'll be getting tired. I might be out on the town as I don't have the kids tonight and don't work  tomorrow till the evening. Either way, it'll be cold, and I'll curse it helplessly.

So that's my plan for the day. I've already begun, now I can get to whatever part is next just as soon as I finish the second half of my wake and bake.

get out in it already

I feel that lazy Sundays are best spent lazily. Also, I still don't have everything I need to do the bike stuff I need to do and won't likely get those things today.

The weather is beautiful, and I really should be out in it. I have been at work or at home with the kids all of this past week, which isn't a bad thing. Sure, I kinda hate the work part, but the with kids part has been fun, and it's been nice having to be around them more often. Momma's new job involves later hours which means a lot of things apart from the kids and stuff.

Anyway, Sunday is happening all around except for at the construction site next door. They didn't get quite as early a start as weekdays and Saturday, but they were up, and so was I, but I was up before they got here.

That's another different thing. While Momma is being up and working later, I've been getting up to wake the boys up for school, and then most days I'm just up a little earlier than usual for work, and for the first time ever I'm setting a personal record for times up on time as well as to work on time.

I should be so proud of myself. Instead I'm really just hoping the construction workers make it an early day and get the fuck on, but I'm sure they're going to get the other half of the roof on instead. Also, from what I can see, there isn't a hot one in the bunch.  There's the obviously boss guy that stays clean and prowls the site who seems like a maybe. Plus, I'm not in a hurry to be the weird guy that stands and stares from the apartments next door.

This post has gotten pointedly disjointed even for me. Did I mention the computer? It's been sitting in a box for a while, sort of a gift from a brother who got it from his employer when they replaced their old system. I finally ran my errands that involved all the random things I need but don't want to have to cram into an already full pannier or backpack. It happens.

Knowing where this computer came from I have to wonder about the overall stickiness of the keys on the keyboard, some more than others.  I can imagine the mouse is just a cheap old mouse that came with the computer and has been through a lot. Mice get that way, but once you get to just how much to press the button it starts to suck less. 

And I bought a usb thing that sometimes gets the wifi my apartments serve up. It may or may not be working now as is its want. I snatch it in little handfuls when I can. I also got underwear and socks, but neither of those are really worth mentioning other than in passing because they were part of the fruitful shopping venture. Fine steel wool was not, however.

Because Big Brother didn't finish his coffee before Grandma came to pick the boys up for church I've just finished the concoction he makes with coffee and sugar. It wasn't really that bad as I could still taste the underlying good coffee flavor beneath the sugar. I actually made a little more coffee than I meant to, the price you sometimes pay using a French press, but the point here is that I dumped the overflow into a pint glass earlier to get it out of the press pot. I can feel it sitting behind me now, waiting for me to come grab it and drink it down.

Beyond the call of the coffee I can almost feel the call of outside and riding a bike to drink a beer on a patio. The two beers I've enjoyed on a patio this week were in the cold of nearly late night and rushed between work and home. Which brings us back to the good parts of responsibility of course, but that isn't a concern for today.

Soon after enjoying a patio I'll return some books to the library and pick up a couple more. Have I mentioned Gore Vidal? Have I mentioned that I'm typically late to things? Yeah, I've discovered him for myself finally. He's been keeping me busy on and off for a couple of months.

So that's my day so far. How are you?

and there he was

Lately, more often than is really healthy, each day at work is one of those days. I keep feeling as if it's time to walk out, but at my age, and with this economy  . . .

Of course I'm not going to walk out, but I've now worked at this place longer than at any other restaurant. There are so many other restaurants around where I work, the neighborhood in which I would prefer to stay, and there are so many things out there I could be cooking.

It isn't as grand as all that of course, but we do okay. The problem is that I  don't really think I want to work at any of them. Of course there's the training and settling in period, a time I've come to dread. It's that time when you feel like you haven't got it all down yet, and you still don't know the servers by name for the most part. The managers are all displaying their personalities, but you don't know them yet, so sometimes you just don't know what to expect.  You also need to be doing your damnedest in the kitchen, because you are being judged until you truly prove yourself.

I can handle all of that, though lately my ego has taken some hits, and there's that age thing again. I still feel sometimes as if I can whip anybody's ass in that kitchen. I can work harder and longer than any of them. I can lift more than any of them. I can chop and slice faster and more perfectly than any of them. I can even wash dishes faster.

Of course none of them make noises when they lift a case of number ten cans. They don't get almost stuck because they bent over to reach down into the cooler. And most of them will leave by the time they graduate and get "real" jobs.

But more importantly, as I reach whatever point I'm reaching, I have to ask myself how much longer I can reasonably expect to work as I am now, and when I can't do it anymore, what next? As of now there are no answers to either question, but as the need to at least consider the first seems to grow nearer, the second becomes the more worrisome of the two.

What it all comes back around to in the end is that I need to start investing in the lottery again. That thing seems like a pretty good deal, make a few million dollars then sit back and watch the awesome, fun times start rolling in. Plan B is to marry for money, but that's not happening in this state any time soon, so I won't push it to A status just yet.

I suppose there are other options, perhaps some even intelligent. Perhaps I'll think along those lines instead, or I could accept that I'm going to die with either a sautee pan or a knife in my hand, and the only reason people will know that something is wrong is that too many seconds have passed without me saying something hilarious and intelligent with just the heaviest slather of cynicism and ennui.

the sound of construction

I should be getting ready for work in order to get there as early as I'd like, but my shopping trip earlier was mostly fruitful, and I'm using an actual computer for at least now. Maybe later I'll tell you the story, but right this moment I'm listening to Descendents via a cd which is only remarkable if you already know that I've been without a cd player for a while.

I love that I can use my phone to listen to Pandora, but what's the point of all those cd's when your player quits on you? Of course I still have cassettes, and that machine ain't broken. I can only imagine how much music is going to change as well as the ways we'll be able to access and listen to it in the future.

None of that's really the point. That it was a firewall issue once I called dude down to help me with my connectivity issues isn't the point either, but it did happen and was in fact a firewall issue.  Sometimes it's just that simple.

The only point I might have is that it's nice to have more than my phone to use the same services to connect to the world. And won't the kids have a blast tomorrow morning when they wake up and we can do stuff.  Big Brother will get to see his facebook page for reals. The Boy can something else I'm sure.  That is certainly part of the point. I suppose we can now sit at the dining table and watch videos and stuff.

Yes, it's at the table, the table where we eat. This is where it fits until something better comes along. And to celebrate our Benton's bacon baked potatoes tomorrow night we'll watch something mindless while eating. That just really feels good to say.

Getting back to my shopping trip I have to admit to not finding any fine steel wool. I need it to remove some handlebar rust, though I did get cleaning products and internet thing, so that's good. That was never the point either, but for such a rambling and mindless post it was as good an entrance as any other I came up with.  I'm settling however for nothing with which to close.

sunday funday

Sunday is the day to rest, to relax, to go out and drink while the sun still shines. I can't pretend to be immune to the call of Sunday funday, and too often I'm found back at the pub.

Yes, I know I ended Saturday night here, drinking the same IPA I'm drinking now. Yes, I know it's never going to be the best idea, but dammit, it's tradition by now, and you can't argue with tradition. If you could I'd be able to get married by now.

Today, however, is also Fathers Day, so I don't plan to spend all of it drinking at the bar. I'm sure to get to Momma's house at some point. I'm certain I'll see the kids. I've also already agreed to possibly help Momma clean her "new" bike. I can't actually guarantee that last part will happen today, but it does need to happen.

If bike shops opened on Sundays I'd have swung by the LBS to check out the thin brushes they sell to clean between your cogs. Her bike seriously needs a good scrub and lube.

My own bike could use some attention, not the least of which should be devoted to figuring out my rear dérailleur. It's not that it doesn't work, it does work as well as it can, but it needs to be adjusted. I can only use my three largest cogs, and that isn't usually much of an issue, but if it isn't working properly then it is likely causing damage. Maybe not, but I'm really good at ignoring those often unnoticed things that get in and under and cause damage when you aren't paying attention. Or maybe I just break things through neglect. Though it bears mentioning that this post isn't about that.

Honestly there really isn't any point to this post. I'm just talking to hear my own voice, but it's been a while since I was able to do this here, so it's nice to just ramble with no object.

If you haven't yet, you should try Sweetwater IPA. Their more popular beer may be the 420, which is a good beer, but I do love the hoppiness of the IPA. I'm kind of a hop head that way. I like them big and flowery and in the back of the mouthful. For what it's worth, Sweetwater Brewing Company is based in Atlanta and nay not be available in your neck of the woods. If you happen upon their beer do yourself a favor and grab some. Whichever beer you get will probably be pretty damn tasty.

Maybe after all that the point of this post is a plug for a regional brewery. It wouldn't be the first time I didn't know what I was talking about till I finished talking.

Right now I'm going to get the fuck on. I've got coworkers to join, to commiserate with. We'll probably discuss our job and how we so hate most customers and why servers are such horrible people.

I would absolutely love to show you my new laptop. Alas I likely can't do so as you are there, and I am here. It just won't be happening today.

At least a couple of different times in the past few months I tried posting from my phone, and it worked well enough, but mostly it was just a pain in my ass. I gave up. I threw in the towel.

But now I have a fancy, new laptop, and when I have internets I can post posts. How awesome is that?

This post will contain nothing cool. I won't be ranting or proclaiming my love for anything. Hell, even this laptop hasn't quite convinced me yet, but I do love it a little bit already, and if you're patient I'll tell you more than you want to know about it, eventually.

For now just praise imaginary sky beings that I'm back.

 sort of

Beer on the porch

"I'll never be that thirsty," she said, looking as if she could smell the stink coming off the beer.

I followed her gaze to the beer, the cans moist and with bits of ice still clinging to the edges.

Looking past the four beers, still joined at the neck by a series of plastic loops, looking betwen the spokes of the bicycles locked to the porch rail, to the end of the driveway. I sat slumped back in the low, green folding chair she'd bought from the ValuTown just down the street.

I have no idea why there were four cheap beers sitting there at the end of the driveway. I'd seen them as I walked back up the street, returning from Ol' Pappy's liquor store with a bottle of rum and some ginger beer. Of course I grabbed them.

A car sped past as I tried to imagine not noticing I'd dropped my beer at the end of a driveway or putting it down for a moment then forgetting. How do you get four cheap beers this far up the hill and then give them up?

"Of course you won't," I said. I ripped one of the cans away from his family and pushed the rest back toward the bicycles. "You see beer and judge whether or not you'd like to drink one of whatever it is based on all sorts of internal judgements. I dont care. When it's sitting there I just see beer that nobody drank yet.

"And dammit! Dont get drunk. The truck's only there till seven." To this I tipped the beer back.

"What time is it now?" The beer tasted awful of course.

"Just now five."

"Aw shit, baby. Ain't nobody gonna eat up all the tacos before we get there. Drink a beer and relax. Thats what Mondays are for." 

tribulations

Minutes ago I was on hold, my phone jammed between my shoulder and my ear. I appreciated, for a moment, a nice old fashioned telephone handset, the graceful curve of the handle between the ear piece and mouth piece was just the right size to be easily held against the ear by the shoulder.

I also miss the days when the college courses and mini degree seemed like good ideas. Life was great at the time. I loved my job, felt respected, was making money.

Who could have expected the looming Bush we were about to get with those heady days of Clinton such a powerful memory. I really never saw it tht way then.

I was a youngish father certain of so much yet so deep in the closet that it almost doesn't figure in this tale. But even so, I can't help but wonder what other decisions would have existed for me and how I might have decided differently.

I'm in a fair amount of debt based on decisions I made when I was only allowing myself certain options. I was completely unable to imagine the me that is now. I was sure of where my life was headed, and at the time I needed it to go that way. It didn't of course, and in many ways I'm still dealing with those facts and realities.

Did I mention it isn't all bad? Momma and the kids and the dogs are all great, and I love them one and all. I like Knoxville and have some great friends here. I'm reasonably good at my work.

There isn't really much to do right now but rant, and I really don't want to do that. I rant too much, and that's why I'm home now and not at work making money. It's not a long story,but I'm already tired of pecking at this tiny keyboard.

Really my point is that I never should have gone into this debt. The education I was able to get is not without value, but life has negated much of it, and much of it directly involves what I think I'd like to get away from.  Any educational benefit derived was in learning certain bits of math in a more formal setting as well as being forced to look at business from outside the narrow concerns of my own world of the kitchen.

I can't imagine the amount of money I owe is anywhere close in value to what little benefit I may have gained. It's frustratingto know that I did agre to this and can not reasonably refuse to fulfill my obligation, but it really does feel like I've been somehow taken advantage of. It also feels like getting fronted a bag then smoking it all before you actually pay or it.

One of the dangers of those old handsets was also a drawback to the shoulder hold. Kids today will never know the joy of the plastice handle meeting no resistance on the fabric of your shirt as it scooted free. The pressure of the hold propelling it away from you mid conversation. They'll never delight in catching the cord and drawing the phone back, barely missing a moment of the conversation.

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work in progress

It really is just a coffe cup, but right now, in this moment, it feels like a symbol of how I manage to fuck things up.

Earlier today Momma picked me up from my apartment so that I could go to her house to hang out with the kids and more importantly help continue the everday training that comes with a new puppy.

I had laundry to bring as well as my recycling to dump in her bin, and I brought a couple of empty boxes that can go in her basement and not clutter my rather cozy home place.

Shortly before she arrived I'd made myself a cup of coffee which was in the cup she'd gotten for me a couple of years ago. I loved that cup, thrown by another friend who does some really fun pottery. The cup was somewhat special both as a gift from Momma and as a piece created by a friend. It's worth mentioning the coffe as it was roasted by another friend and is really good stuff.

I set my coffee on the trunk of the car as I brought my load out and placed it in the car, the load making three trips carrying stuff followed by one to turn off the light and lock the door. Then I joined Momma as she spoke for a moment with a friend and neighbor at my apartments.

As soon as we arived at Momma's I dumped the recycling into her cart (curbside, single stream ftw) and brought in the laundry and boxes. Then I thought of my coffee and realized immediately that it was gone, but more importatly the cup is now very likely no longer a cup but a few shards laying on the ground. 

And right now, in his moment, it adds itself to a list of my failures, a list my brain makes and keeps up to date, a list that is likely full of things I could not have done differently, things that were never my fault, little unimportant things that don't effect anything but my mood.

But that's how my brain works too often, and I've given it some fuel by drinking two nights that should have been spent otherwise. Instead of remembering the work toward changing the habit that is the goal I focus on a failure. It's kinda how I roll.

But I'm working on that too.

I'll finish by adding that the above was written several hours ago. I didn't post then as it needed editing, and I wasn't willing to do it then. Since then I've hung out with the kids, cooked supper, enjoyed a Coke float and some popcorn, and watched a movie. I was also able, quite a while ago, to put my minor loss in perspective.

I've also thought more about the entire issue which is a combination of things, two of which involve depression and drinking and my proneness (is that a word?) to both. It should also be noted that my dismal financial situation and my unhealthy approach to it was a bit of a trigger.

I know what needs to happen, and the beginning part is to go back to not drinking as much, which I did well with for a while, in a sense. And I know that the beer itself isn't the issue. The problem is that I pour so much of it into myself when I do drink. So the question eventually has to become, can I drink reaonably, or do I need to consider more drastic measures?

I really don't want to not be able to drink a beer when I want, so how do I not want so much?

everywhere a dog

The storm is getting closer. The thunder isn't yet quite overhead, but it's certainly on its way. I'm standing outside enjoying the lightning display while waiting for a puppy to do his business.

I probably ought to take my bike off the car. Locked to the porch has to be at least a little better than all the way out in the rain and related nonsense.

And now I turn to see the puppy in full on mode so must assume my job in the back yard is complete.

another test

Reading from your end you likely can't tell that I'm testing out yet another Blogger replacement app. I didnt like Google's Blogger app when I first tried it, and I havent been overly enthusiastic about the two apps I've trid so far.

So far this one hasnt caught a couple of mistakes the last one would have automatically fixed, but the ui is more attractive. Sadly, I could be likely to just get used to the app based on the pretty.

It isn't that it isn't working, but it doesn't add apostrophes or capitalize "I" when I just put in the lower case version. I could get used to having to do a little work if other facets prove worth keeping.

Before I decide though I have to post a few more times. I need to road test this with more than just this crappy excuse for a post. Right this moment I dont have anything better to offer, so this is what you get.

Realy what I need is to cook up one of my rants. I haven't gone off on any fools lately, and there are plenty out there.

books

If I were able to use my pc to write this I could justice to the form. Had I but the internets flowing I would do the searching for you and give links to tbe books and author bios. You would not want for the wealth of info I would provide.

Alas sucks to be you. I'm doing it near the pc but am relegated to phone blogging still, so any googling that proves necessary is your responsibility.

And now since you asked so nicely and because it's been so long, let's talk of books.

Let us not just look at books in general, but let's focus on the stack of books before me, four from the library and one borrowed from a coworker, which are the five books I've most recently read.

We begin with the one I havent quite finished yet, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, by Sherman Alexie. It's a fairly depressing read at times, to be quite honest, which is the reason I put it off. The stories are mostly about drunk indians on the reservation. But then you continue reading and the stories pull you in. They aren't stories of winning against all odds or beating the demon drink. Sometimes they are about succumbing. But even in the sadness is beauty. There is also a sadness for the wrongness of it all. I would recommend this book.

We'll get Christopher Moore out of the way next. I thoroughly enjoyed A Dirty Job, but it was one of those guilty pleasures. I'm not against fun and easily read books, but lately I've gravitated toward more earnest type stuff.

The main character in the story loses his wife soon after she delivers their daughter, and through some accident of fate he stumbses upon the guy who came for her soul. The next few years are a whirlwind of bad forces gaining power because our hero is too busy missing clues. I'm looking forward to more by this author.

Moving on we can discuss The Folding Starr by Alan Hollinghurst. I must say first that I did enjoy the book and in the end only care for Luc out of all the characters. Don't really think of it as Death in Venice, but there are some similarities, older lech falls for young boy, but our Tadzio is a little older and more aware of the world around him, though it doesn't seem to do him much good in the end. I did enjoy the book, though in spite of some discomfort brought on by the protagonist. Will revisit the author.

Another light read was Andromeda Klein, and this one came from the teen shelves. I have admitted to this often enough, but I love well written juvenile and teen and young adult fiction. I even love well written kids books. I'm a sucker for good writing, and the author here, Frank Portman is one of my favorite writers. He has only written one other book. But he's the athor of some of he greatest pop punk songs ever written as Dr. Frank, along with his band The Mr. T Experience.

Google them. Thank me later.

But back to the story. Andromeda Klein is a teenage witch with enough problems. Her best and possibly only friend may be dead, but she may also be trying to send her some sort of message. Her boyfriend is gone but suddenly she's getting texts from his id on her phone. It's also possible that her new friends don't have her best interests at heart. Her parents aren't really helping much as they also have problems to deal with. Okay, so it also isn't really up high on the serious scale, but it's a really great story, and I say that as more than just a fan. I do enjoy Frank Portman's play with language and words, and I enjoy his sometimes silly, sometimes frank humor. Ha! See what I did there?

Finally we get to Jean Genet. I'm still not sure how to take this guy, so unsure that I stopped at the library for mere moments today to grab another of his books. Actually I needed to get some dvd's back before they started costing me, but while there I grabbed a book.

Miracle of the Rose isn't the Jean Genet book that is considered his greatest, but it was banned enough in the US once upon a time. He celebrates the worst of humanity in the form of a man in jail for killing a child and then the only prison guard who ever treated him well. But more important is the sub plot. It isn't so much a sub plot. A book needs a plot to have someting as simple as a sub plot, but for lack of a better word right now let's go with that.

Being gay is what I took away from the book. And being gay in the late forties and early fifties was so much different than what I'm used to in the nows. The Jean in the book seemed to except that being gay made him a pervert and possibly a kind of monster. It's hard to imagine having so little support for something so inherent to oneself, to imagine knowing that your orientation was inevitable and that you were a pariah because of this thing.

At the same time only gay men can realy know this exact version of the feeling, and all too often we still feel the stigma and the disdain and even the hatred.

But read the book. Your mileage may vary. I know I haven't described it worth a damn, but don't let that stop you. I really would have given a better synopsis/review, but I don't know that I can.

I've begun another Jean Genet book, Querelle, and I expect more moral ambiguity. I'm also looking for some little bit of the history of gay men. This book was first published right around the time we started thinking about not apologizing and hiding so much. Now we need to work more on acceptance of both ourselves and others like us.

To be quite honest, I'm sure I will soon need more lighter reading. I can only throw so much at my brain before it needs a day off. The lighter fare I've mentiond here is good for that, and any good fiction can be good exercise, but I alo love a book that asks for a little work in return.

And now I have to ask, what are you reading?

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dawgs

Do Georgia fans stil ask, how bout them dawgs? I may have mentioned it a few times last fall when our local boys failed to best the team from Athens, and it may hve been somwhat alcohol fueled.

None of that is really the point, and neither dog representing either of the above teams is represented by my family and our doggie family.

The dogs all live with Momma, and two of the three are more hers in that she picked them herself. Or we could say that one of the three was part of the family since the old days, the in-the-closet time. She is now ten years old and is a small, black mix of unknown breeds.

Though Momma picked the next two dogs for herself I still accept my parentage duties. The first is just over three and was the runt of a litter of long haired chihuahuas. He is light brown with great white accents. The new guy is only almost eight weeks old now, and he already is almost twice the size of the smallest dog and close enough to our older girl in weight while already seming to tower over her a little.

This dog is near enough seventeen pounds according to the friend from whom he came. She found the mother on a local interstate, missing fur and emaciated and also, our friend learned soon enough, pregnant. The mom is also obviously a German shepherd, while the father is of course a mystery.

Looking at his big lovable face and his paws that are nearly half as big my hand gives you ideas of a father. We're thinking lab or pit bull as possible, but we can't really know. Either could be a great mix.

The humans in the family have all fallen for this growing beast of a dog, though the dogs are taking their time. They didn't seem to get the memo about the pack expansion, and they haven't quite decided how to take the news.

Our old lady seems concerned that she's going to miss out on something. She seems to know her place is secure, but that damn chihuahua is always a concern and often enough a pain in the ass for no obvious reason.

Of course the chihuahua is being exactly a chihuahua about it. He's the boss, and you better recognize his place in line. Of course he isn't the boss and is made to realize and forced to accept this often enough, but he'll be damned if any dog gets his place in the pack. He can't know that this usurper will soon be too big for the cute and cuddly place that only a darling little bit of a chihuahua can fill.

My own getting a dog is still a ways off. I would love to have a dog but don't really feel that my life at the.moment is any place for a dog. Perhaps soon enough I'll have figured some things out, but for now I have plenty to worry about helping the newest brute learn what "outside!" really means in doggish.

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huffing and puffing

The wind has been kind of a bitch the last few days. It sems like whichever direction I pedal the wind figures out how to get around in front of me and push me in the face.

I wonder if I would mind as much if it were ever behind me helping, or maybe I just don't recognize it when it helps. I'm sure I'd know, so of course it never does.

Once in a while when it isn't in my face it sneaks up to wallop me on either side, and it usually gets me just enough to make me notice but not enough to really run me off the road or knock me over. It ain't for lack of trying on the wind's part. It's after me.

Yesterday the wind was attacking, but other than the threat of rain the weather was awesome. It was so warm and nice when I got lucky and didn't have to battle my unseen foe. Today the weather is cooler, but the wind turned cold. It couldn't get me through brute force, so it teamed up with its partner.

And now I'm at the pub enjoying a Dig pale ale, collecting my strength for the ride down the street for tobacco. My face isn't quite as wind blown feeling, and my hands are warm again. Perhaps vanity will piss off and let me pull a hat down over my head and hair. My hair isn't cold, but it looks fairly okay, and I hate to mess with it.

I'm looking forward to nice weather over the weekend. And while I work all day Saturday I'm off Sunday. Perhaps it's time to head south to the close mountain bike trail. Chances are the wind will folllow me, and chances are it will catch me unaware and thow me into a tree.

Did I mention that the wind is after me?

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