Music: “Sixteen Tons” covered by Tennessee Ernie Ford
“You load sixteen tons, what do you get?”
To answer the question, you get something… interesting.
When you only have an hour on the internet, and you boss has politely asked you not to blog from work, you have limited options.
As I'm slowly acclimating to life at just under 7,000 feet, I’m not sleeping in as late as I used to (or if I am, it’s because I stayed up late to finish another book or late night phone call). I’m working to be up and moving earlier in the morning and make more time to get stories out.
I haven’t stopped composing. I’m always tinkering with words – on pads of paper or mentally. I’ve almost dug myself out to the point where I can see the light. For some, 16 tons may represent the monotonous status quo. For me, it means I’m that much closer to my jailbreak.
See you on the other side… soon I hope.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
12:08 PM - Looking to Break the Surface
Monday, January 30, 2006
12:22 PM - The Weekly Recap, Extended Silence Edition - January 16 to January 30
Music: “Sound of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel
“Hello darkness, my old friend…”
If it’s Monday, and even if I skipped over a week, it’s still recap day.
No excuses, just poor luck and planning and the often repeated mantra, we’ll try to do better this week.
On the last posted Monday, January 16, I reviewed the sporadic collection of posts.
On Tuesday I shared my impressions on my one-way flight to Wyoming – and the unexpected mid-air detour into pilgrim territory.
Wednesday I shared the quirky story I wrote to help rest my boondoggled brain my first night at work.
And then there was a lot of nothing new for several days. And now we’re caught up.
To come: We’ll learn if no news is better than badly written news.
“Hello darkness, my old friend…”
If it’s Monday, and even if I skipped over a week, it’s still recap day.
No excuses, just poor luck and planning and the often repeated mantra, we’ll try to do better this week.
On the last posted Monday, January 16, I reviewed the sporadic collection of posts.
On Tuesday I shared my impressions on my one-way flight to Wyoming – and the unexpected mid-air detour into pilgrim territory.
Wednesday I shared the quirky story I wrote to help rest my boondoggled brain my first night at work.
And then there was a lot of nothing new for several days. And now we’re caught up.
To come: We’ll learn if no news is better than badly written news.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
1:07 PM - Mushroom! Mushroom!
Music: “Badger, Badger, Badger” by Jonti
My brain has been partially bamboozled by the massive influx of information on my first day.
My noodly sponge has nearly reached maximum absorption. I am taking copious notes in the hope that my hand will capture and retain what consciousness can’t.
On my evening break - having polished off a pastrami, flipped through an old issue of “Time,” and shared a conversation (and some chocolates) with a woman who has worked at the paper for 35 years (in addition to 20 more years of newspaper experience) - I decided to let my brain wander.
What is to follows is a purposely nonsensical scribbling purposely composed to eschew any serious meaning or moral. You’ve been warned.
“Do you know where a guy can rent or purchase a badger at this time of night?”
“Right here, sir. Do you have a preference on color?”
”Umm… Not really. I hadn’t thought much about that attribute. Just one that was, you know, badger-colored.”
“I know what you mean. What are your intentions for this badger, anyway?”
“Do I have to tell?”
“Look - there are federal regulations I have to follow here.”
“Stupid legislators and their ‘Badger and Salamander Act of 2006.’”
“Hey! Be thankful they removed some of the more strenuous provisions at the last minute. Otherwise you’d have to go through a three-day waiting period and background check.”
“The Badger Enthusiast lobby is much more powerful than the general public would think.”
“Don’t I know it! Nevertheless, I must ask you, for the record, what is your intended use for the badger? Professional or person?”
“Professional… Personal… Both.”
“Okay… Let’s put these forms aside for a moment and talk this out. Maybe this will help you sort things.”
“Alright. Okay, I work as a groundskeeper/handyman for my grandmother, you see? I keep everything running ship-shape on the property. A month ago, Grandma’s garden developed an infestation amongst her mums that can only be eradicated by a badger.”
“Sounds purely professional to me.”
“I know, but I’m not technically employed in the legal sense.”
“But you just said…”
“I do work for my grandma, but I’m not paid in legal tender. She gives me a room and board and sometimes even lets me borrow her car so I can park in handicap spots right next to stores. She has one of those wheelchair tag things.”
“So I guessed.”
“But anyway, from the government’s standpoint - especially the IRS - I have no taxable income. I’m not really working. My Granny even claims me as a dependent. As far as the law is concerned, all I’m doing is being a good grandson. That means the badger is, in principle, for personal use.”
“Your situation does defy simple definition.”
“Such is the story of my life.”
“I can’t just check one box. Since I now know your story, doing so would be fraud. I might lose my license and be barred from ever selling badgers and salamanders again.”
“‘Tis true.”
“And I can’t check both boxes. That would be sure to draw an investigation. I’m sure the prolonged interrogation would prove you and I to be innocent, but it’s certainly not worth that hassle.”
“Exactly. Maybe I might be better off trying to catch my own badger.”
“Just to remind you, you’re going to need a stack of waffles, a tennis racket, anti-bacterial soap, duct tape, a xylophone, and three forms of identification. That is, if you want to meet the federal standards on the subject.”
“I appreciate the reminder. I’d hate to go through all that trouble just to be forced to let the badger loose.”
“I hate to lose your business, but that’s the way things go sometimes.”
“Thanks for being patient with me.”
“It was no trouble at all. Say, I don’t suppose I could interest you in some salamanders before you go, could I?”
“‘Fraid not.”
“That’s what I figured. Take care.”
“Thanks. And same to you. Man… My Grandma’s gonna kill me if I don’t get a badger soon to defend her mums.”
“That’s the third time that’s happened this week. Stupid needless government interference.”
Protect Granny’s mums! Tell your local congressional representative to vote ‘No’ on the Badger and Salamander Act of 2006.
My brain has been partially bamboozled by the massive influx of information on my first day.
My noodly sponge has nearly reached maximum absorption. I am taking copious notes in the hope that my hand will capture and retain what consciousness can’t.
On my evening break - having polished off a pastrami, flipped through an old issue of “Time,” and shared a conversation (and some chocolates) with a woman who has worked at the paper for 35 years (in addition to 20 more years of newspaper experience) - I decided to let my brain wander.
What is to follows is a purposely nonsensical scribbling purposely composed to eschew any serious meaning or moral. You’ve been warned.
“Do you know where a guy can rent or purchase a badger at this time of night?”
“Right here, sir. Do you have a preference on color?”
”Umm… Not really. I hadn’t thought much about that attribute. Just one that was, you know, badger-colored.”
“I know what you mean. What are your intentions for this badger, anyway?”
“Do I have to tell?”
“Look - there are federal regulations I have to follow here.”
“Stupid legislators and their ‘Badger and Salamander Act of 2006.’”
“Hey! Be thankful they removed some of the more strenuous provisions at the last minute. Otherwise you’d have to go through a three-day waiting period and background check.”
“The Badger Enthusiast lobby is much more powerful than the general public would think.”
“Don’t I know it! Nevertheless, I must ask you, for the record, what is your intended use for the badger? Professional or person?”
“Professional… Personal… Both.”
“Okay… Let’s put these forms aside for a moment and talk this out. Maybe this will help you sort things.”
“Alright. Okay, I work as a groundskeeper/handyman for my grandmother, you see? I keep everything running ship-shape on the property. A month ago, Grandma’s garden developed an infestation amongst her mums that can only be eradicated by a badger.”
“Sounds purely professional to me.”
“I know, but I’m not technically employed in the legal sense.”
“But you just said…”
“I do work for my grandma, but I’m not paid in legal tender. She gives me a room and board and sometimes even lets me borrow her car so I can park in handicap spots right next to stores. She has one of those wheelchair tag things.”
“So I guessed.”
“But anyway, from the government’s standpoint - especially the IRS - I have no taxable income. I’m not really working. My Granny even claims me as a dependent. As far as the law is concerned, all I’m doing is being a good grandson. That means the badger is, in principle, for personal use.”
“Your situation does defy simple definition.”
“Such is the story of my life.”
“I can’t just check one box. Since I now know your story, doing so would be fraud. I might lose my license and be barred from ever selling badgers and salamanders again.”
“‘Tis true.”
“And I can’t check both boxes. That would be sure to draw an investigation. I’m sure the prolonged interrogation would prove you and I to be innocent, but it’s certainly not worth that hassle.”
“Exactly. Maybe I might be better off trying to catch my own badger.”
“Just to remind you, you’re going to need a stack of waffles, a tennis racket, anti-bacterial soap, duct tape, a xylophone, and three forms of identification. That is, if you want to meet the federal standards on the subject.”
“I appreciate the reminder. I’d hate to go through all that trouble just to be forced to let the badger loose.”
“I hate to lose your business, but that’s the way things go sometimes.”
“Thanks for being patient with me.”
“It was no trouble at all. Say, I don’t suppose I could interest you in some salamanders before you go, could I?”
“‘Fraid not.”
“That’s what I figured. Take care.”
“Thanks. And same to you. Man… My Grandma’s gonna kill me if I don’t get a badger soon to defend her mums.”
“That’s the third time that’s happened this week. Stupid needless government interference.”
Protect Granny’s mums! Tell your local congressional representative to vote ‘No’ on the Badger and Salamander Act of 2006.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
11:54 AM -
Note: Here we finally begin the often delayed series of my first impressions upon reaching Wyoming. The story starts in Missouri, as many of my tales do, but quickly moves on to previously unexplored areas.
Music: “Go West Young Man” by Michael W. Smith
It feels funny clutching a one-way ticket. I’ve jetted out before on a few trips when I didn’t know exactly when I’d be coming back. Those we are vacations, however, and I knew I could be confident of a return date within a few short days. This trip, the return timeline is much more ambiguous - as in completely unknown.
This is a serious thought, but one can be easily distracted by an unexpected airline fine.
One of my carry-on bags was deemed too large and I was forced to check it for an additional $50 fee. Zip went most of the emergency cash my mother had given me the night before.
After paying the fine I lugged my remaining carry-on bag to the gate. I said goodbye to my parents and my grandfather. We had a group prayer and I got through the security check just as the final boarding call was being sounded.
Once on the plane things remained simple. Thanks to the earlier charge I was even less receptive to a flight attendant’s pitch to enjoy DirectTV programming during the flight for a nominal fee. Even with a on-the-ground free sample, after paying extra to get all my luggage on the plane, I didn’t feel like shelling out a couple more bucks to continue watching the Weather Channel.
My entertainment options were additionally limited by the fact I had no access to writing materials. I neglected to pack any pens in my remaining carry-on “briefcase.” The bag had a bulk that defied the standard expectations of a brief case to the point where my father had concerns that it would be challenged at the gate (instead of the other carry-on that was ultimately red-flagged).
I was one of the last to board the flight, so I was in a hurry to take my seat. I was informed my “brief case” was too large to place beneath my seat and I had to cram it into the overhead compartment. I was in such a rush to do so, I forgot to pull out anything to read before it was stored. As the plane took off, I was temporarily left pen-less and book-less. This is was ultimately led me to read several pamphlets about the Qur'an.
I take that back; it was lack of entertainment paired with a strong gut feeling that lead me to peruse the papers.
Early in the flight, the man sitting next to me pulled out a copy of the Qur'an and about a half dozen fliers on the subject of Muslim beliefs. As time passed I felt pressed to talk with the man and figured the fliers could be a point of shared reference.
He was polite when I interrupted his reading to ask if I could read the pamphlets he’d already finished. I found the fliers - published by the Children of the Qur'an group based out of Chicago - to be interesting, especially the ones that “explained” what Christians believe and the character of Jesus.
It’s informative to see one’s religion viewed through the eyes of another. You can find new terms to define familiar tenants and different spins on well-known stories. I liked seeing where the two camps overlapped and where they diverged.
Some areas I disagreed with more strongly than others. I believe some portions of the Bible were purposely omitted or misconstrued to make a desired point. Also, if one is going to challenge the teachings of the Jehovah Witnesses (the orange-colored flier, if I remember correctly) I would want to attack some of their core teachings rather than spend most of my space debating the semantic use of “Jehovah” vs. “Allah.” If you’re going to have a fight, swing for a knock-out rather than technical win.
I thought the materials were stimulating, especially the ones I didn’t agree with. I’ve tried to welcome such challenges. As I told the man next to me, as a Christian, I think it is important to be aware of other viewpoints for “What good is untried faith?”
As we started to disembark in Denver, I told the man I would pray he would find truth. He pledged to do the same for me.
It’s amazing what things will seize your attention - both petty and existential. Instead of fretting about moving into an unknown place or grumbling about the airline, I found myself tickled by the circumstances that had transpired. Who would have thought that an extra checked bag and the absence of a writing instrument would prompt two pilgrims to cross paths - and later leave each other praying that the other would find the truth they were searching for.
It’s those simple things that keep me smiling in a world that is otherwise insane.
One-way Thoughts
Music: “Go West Young Man” by Michael W. Smith
It feels funny clutching a one-way ticket. I’ve jetted out before on a few trips when I didn’t know exactly when I’d be coming back. Those we are vacations, however, and I knew I could be confident of a return date within a few short days. This trip, the return timeline is much more ambiguous - as in completely unknown.
This is a serious thought, but one can be easily distracted by an unexpected airline fine.
One of my carry-on bags was deemed too large and I was forced to check it for an additional $50 fee. Zip went most of the emergency cash my mother had given me the night before.
After paying the fine I lugged my remaining carry-on bag to the gate. I said goodbye to my parents and my grandfather. We had a group prayer and I got through the security check just as the final boarding call was being sounded.
Once on the plane things remained simple. Thanks to the earlier charge I was even less receptive to a flight attendant’s pitch to enjoy DirectTV programming during the flight for a nominal fee. Even with a on-the-ground free sample, after paying extra to get all my luggage on the plane, I didn’t feel like shelling out a couple more bucks to continue watching the Weather Channel.
My entertainment options were additionally limited by the fact I had no access to writing materials. I neglected to pack any pens in my remaining carry-on “briefcase.” The bag had a bulk that defied the standard expectations of a brief case to the point where my father had concerns that it would be challenged at the gate (instead of the other carry-on that was ultimately red-flagged).
I was one of the last to board the flight, so I was in a hurry to take my seat. I was informed my “brief case” was too large to place beneath my seat and I had to cram it into the overhead compartment. I was in such a rush to do so, I forgot to pull out anything to read before it was stored. As the plane took off, I was temporarily left pen-less and book-less. This is was ultimately led me to read several pamphlets about the Qur'an.
I take that back; it was lack of entertainment paired with a strong gut feeling that lead me to peruse the papers.
Early in the flight, the man sitting next to me pulled out a copy of the Qur'an and about a half dozen fliers on the subject of Muslim beliefs. As time passed I felt pressed to talk with the man and figured the fliers could be a point of shared reference.
He was polite when I interrupted his reading to ask if I could read the pamphlets he’d already finished. I found the fliers - published by the Children of the Qur'an group based out of Chicago - to be interesting, especially the ones that “explained” what Christians believe and the character of Jesus.
It’s informative to see one’s religion viewed through the eyes of another. You can find new terms to define familiar tenants and different spins on well-known stories. I liked seeing where the two camps overlapped and where they diverged.
Some areas I disagreed with more strongly than others. I believe some portions of the Bible were purposely omitted or misconstrued to make a desired point. Also, if one is going to challenge the teachings of the Jehovah Witnesses (the orange-colored flier, if I remember correctly) I would want to attack some of their core teachings rather than spend most of my space debating the semantic use of “Jehovah” vs. “Allah.” If you’re going to have a fight, swing for a knock-out rather than technical win.
I thought the materials were stimulating, especially the ones I didn’t agree with. I’ve tried to welcome such challenges. As I told the man next to me, as a Christian, I think it is important to be aware of other viewpoints for “What good is untried faith?”
As we started to disembark in Denver, I told the man I would pray he would find truth. He pledged to do the same for me.
It’s amazing what things will seize your attention - both petty and existential. Instead of fretting about moving into an unknown place or grumbling about the airline, I found myself tickled by the circumstances that had transpired. Who would have thought that an extra checked bag and the absence of a writing instrument would prompt two pilgrims to cross paths - and later leave each other praying that the other would find the truth they were searching for.
It’s those simple things that keep me smiling in a world that is otherwise insane.
Monday, January 16, 2006
11:07 AM - The Weekly Recap, Memory Gap Edition - January 9 to January 16
Music: “Amnesia” by Chumbawamba
“Do you suffer from long-term memory loss?I don't remember...”
Actually I do remember… sorta. Though I’ll never personally remember all of what happened on April 1, 1999, I have enough accounts from my friends and hospital bills to tell me what happened. A more recent disconnect happened this past week.
If it’s Monday, even if I don’t have much to repeat, it’s recap day.
When your nearest internet connection goes out and you work has an anti-blogging on the job policy (well, it asks for limited personal use of your computer and blogging certainly pushes the envelope) there’s only so much you can do. This entry will be short but I already have a number of entries ready to just point and click publish so this next week should go smoother.
If I was looking for irony, this is where we’d insert the ominous thunder. As I pause to listen all I can hear is “Bell Bottom Blues” by Eric Clapton playing on the radio behind the library checkout desk. That song may be many things, included dated and sappy, but that’s not ominous. Only time will tell is Clapton conspires to mess with my posting this week.
Other than repeating the postcard exchange offer offer I didn’t do much last week. Still, we’re going to go through the motions anyway.
Last Monday, January 9, I reviewed the eclectic collection of pre-recorded and disconnected updates about reaching Wyoming in five pieces, counting luggage.
On Friday the 13th I announced the end to my consecutive posting that I’d started back on October 23. The final tally was left at 79.
Saturday I began a two part series on talking to the animals. The first part explored the next programming chapter that I’m sure will follow in this craze.
Sunday I concluded my meditation on what animals are trying to tell us by recounting my own conversations with canines.
To come: I’m ready to start dishing out my first impressions about leaving Missouri and moving to Wyoming. For real this time… I hope.
“Do you suffer from long-term memory loss?I don't remember...”
Actually I do remember… sorta. Though I’ll never personally remember all of what happened on April 1, 1999, I have enough accounts from my friends and hospital bills to tell me what happened. A more recent disconnect happened this past week.
If it’s Monday, even if I don’t have much to repeat, it’s recap day.
When your nearest internet connection goes out and you work has an anti-blogging on the job policy (well, it asks for limited personal use of your computer and blogging certainly pushes the envelope) there’s only so much you can do. This entry will be short but I already have a number of entries ready to just point and click publish so this next week should go smoother.
If I was looking for irony, this is where we’d insert the ominous thunder. As I pause to listen all I can hear is “Bell Bottom Blues” by Eric Clapton playing on the radio behind the library checkout desk. That song may be many things, included dated and sappy, but that’s not ominous. Only time will tell is Clapton conspires to mess with my posting this week.
Other than repeating the postcard exchange offer offer I didn’t do much last week. Still, we’re going to go through the motions anyway.
Last Monday, January 9, I reviewed the eclectic collection of pre-recorded and disconnected updates about reaching Wyoming in five pieces, counting luggage.
On Friday the 13th I announced the end to my consecutive posting that I’d started back on October 23. The final tally was left at 79.
Saturday I began a two part series on talking to the animals. The first part explored the next programming chapter that I’m sure will follow in this craze.
Sunday I concluded my meditation on what animals are trying to tell us by recounting my own conversations with canines.
To come: I’m ready to start dishing out my first impressions about leaving Missouri and moving to Wyoming. For real this time… I hope.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
12:33 PM - Animal Communiqués:
Part Two: Dog Tales
Music: “Digga Digga Dog” by Oren Waters
“Don't be believin'.
Looks are deceivin'.”
I earlier explored what it was like to listen to wild animals with a mangled ear. Today I’m hoping to make the scope more domestic, or at least domesticated.
I’ve been on a lot of walks lately. While I haven’t been surrounded by a pack of wolves – you can rest easier on that, Mom – I have had a lot of close encounters with dogs. In most cases chain links and wooden boards prevented things from getting too personal.
Verbal exchanges were allowed, however, and I took the opportunity to engage in some research of my own when it came to what man’s best friends had to say. I worked hard to conjure my own inner-dog whisperer to be able to share what are on dogs minds.
What is to follows is a sampling of my canine conversations:
Note: I’ve cut out all the bad language and excessively vulgar anti-cat propaganda. The rest is presented with the same grammar and wording, though I did run spelchek on everything.
“Yelp! Bow wow! Woof! Whimper bark”
“A fur-crazed woman has kidnapped 99 puppies and we need to alert the London Bark? Are you sure you haven’t simply watched too many Disney movies lately?”
“Woof, woof, ruff!”
“Yes, I also believe the animated original was much superior to the live-action remake. And that’s not even taking into account the sequel.”
“Grrrrr! Yelp!”
“That’s what I said.”
A miniature mutt calls a balcony:
“Yip, yip, yip, yip, yip yip, yip yip, yip yip, yip yip, yip yip, yip!”
“I understand. As a Libertarian, I’m sure you strongly my oppose lease laws both on principle and in practice.”
It’s amazing to see how human music has influenced animals:
“Bark, yelp, yip, yip. Woof, woof, woof, woof!”
“You want to know, ‘Where are the Baja Men and when they’re going to let you out?’ Sorry, can’t help you there.”
“Snarl…. BARK, BARK, BARK GRRRRR!”
“I see. ‘You’re gonna get free, you’re gonna get free. You’re gonna get free and ride into the sun.’ Well good luck with that.”
“Bow bark wow! Grr… Yip, grrr!”
“You believe ‘Bob Barker should be spayed or neutered.’ Well, I know it’s a strange sign-off catchphrase for a game show host, but I don’t think he should be surgically punished for a well-meaning campaign.”
“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Yelp!”
“Okay. Agree to disagree.”
“Snarl! BARK! BARK!”
“Well same to you, pay.”
“Yip, yip, yelp”
“Oh, they already did. Well… I hope it heals quickly. And remember, don’t pick at those stitches.
Note: I like listening to dogs that are riding in vehicles the best. In a drive-by bark, you only have a few seconds to convey your thoughts. Thanks to this, these are some of the most direct, concise statements you will ever hear from a dog.
“Yelp! Woof!”
“Yes, we should ‘Free Tibet!’”
“Bark! Yip! Bark!”
“‘Spice Girls forever?’ I think somebody’s living in the past.”
An especially rabid Rottweiler bangs up against a fence, eager to share his story.
“Bark, bark, bow wow, woof!”
“What’s that girl? You ate Timmy? And what else?”
“Bark! Ruff! Grr…”
“And he was delicious? Bad girl! No biscuit for you.”
“Awwoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“I’m sorry you have the blues. I hope things look up for you soon.”
“Don't be believin'.
Looks are deceivin'.”
I earlier explored what it was like to listen to wild animals with a mangled ear. Today I’m hoping to make the scope more domestic, or at least domesticated.
I’ve been on a lot of walks lately. While I haven’t been surrounded by a pack of wolves – you can rest easier on that, Mom – I have had a lot of close encounters with dogs. In most cases chain links and wooden boards prevented things from getting too personal.
Verbal exchanges were allowed, however, and I took the opportunity to engage in some research of my own when it came to what man’s best friends had to say. I worked hard to conjure my own inner-dog whisperer to be able to share what are on dogs minds.
What is to follows is a sampling of my canine conversations:
Note: I’ve cut out all the bad language and excessively vulgar anti-cat propaganda. The rest is presented with the same grammar and wording, though I did run spelchek on everything.
“Yelp! Bow wow! Woof! Whimper bark”
“A fur-crazed woman has kidnapped 99 puppies and we need to alert the London Bark? Are you sure you haven’t simply watched too many Disney movies lately?”
“Woof, woof, ruff!”
“Yes, I also believe the animated original was much superior to the live-action remake. And that’s not even taking into account the sequel.”
“Grrrrr! Yelp!”
“That’s what I said.”
A miniature mutt calls a balcony:
“Yip, yip, yip, yip, yip yip, yip yip, yip yip, yip yip, yip yip, yip!”
“I understand. As a Libertarian, I’m sure you strongly my oppose lease laws both on principle and in practice.”
It’s amazing to see how human music has influenced animals:
“Bark, yelp, yip, yip. Woof, woof, woof, woof!”
“You want to know, ‘Where are the Baja Men and when they’re going to let you out?’ Sorry, can’t help you there.”
“Snarl…. BARK, BARK, BARK GRRRRR!”
“I see. ‘You’re gonna get free, you’re gonna get free. You’re gonna get free and ride into the sun.’ Well good luck with that.”
“Bow bark wow! Grr… Yip, grrr!”
“You believe ‘Bob Barker should be spayed or neutered.’ Well, I know it’s a strange sign-off catchphrase for a game show host, but I don’t think he should be surgically punished for a well-meaning campaign.”
“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Yelp!”
“Okay. Agree to disagree.”
“Snarl! BARK! BARK!”
“Well same to you, pay.”
“Yip, yip, yelp”
“Oh, they already did. Well… I hope it heals quickly. And remember, don’t pick at those stitches.
Note: I like listening to dogs that are riding in vehicles the best. In a drive-by bark, you only have a few seconds to convey your thoughts. Thanks to this, these are some of the most direct, concise statements you will ever hear from a dog.
“Yelp! Woof!”
“Yes, we should ‘Free Tibet!’”
“Bark! Yip! Bark!”
“‘Spice Girls forever?’ I think somebody’s living in the past.”
An especially rabid Rottweiler bangs up against a fence, eager to share his story.
“Bark, bark, bow wow, woof!”
“What’s that girl? You ate Timmy? And what else?”
“Bark! Ruff! Grr…”
“And he was delicious? Bad girl! No biscuit for you.”
“Awwoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“I’m sorry you have the blues. I hope things look up for you soon.”
Saturday, January 14, 2006
12:30 PM - Animal Communiqués:
Part One - Reptilian Ramblings
Part One:
Music: “If I could Talk to the Animals” from Dr. Doolitle: the Musical
I recently discovered there was a program called “The Dog Whisperer.”
The idea just cracked me up. First people whisper to horses, then dogs. What’s next? “The Crocodile Whisperer?”
Actually, I believe I’d pay good money to watch that quality, albeit short-lived, program.
Episode Two – The Final Whisper
WARNING! This program is not intended for a young audience or those with frail dispositions. Viewer discretion is strongly advised.
No seriously. We mean it.
Still watching? Fine. Go ahead – no skin off our noses. We only ask you NOT to call our switchboards with complaints when the nightmares hit in a couple of hours. After all, we did warn you.
“Hello folks, and welcome back to the Crocodile Whisperer. As you can see I’ve largely healed up from the injuries I suffered in the pilot.
While me doctors, lawyers, and loved ones have encouraged me to seek a different vocation, I believe the best way to get over an injury is to jump back in the scaly saddle.
As always, I employ the advice me Daddy gave me when I was a wee boy: “Blow in her ear and she’ll follow you anywhere.”
Alas, me Dad died young. Not due to a reptilian debacle, but because me Mom caught him applying his technique with another woman, God rest his soul.
I still visit me parents every Thursday. I drop off flowers for Dad at the local graveyard before joining Mom for “tea” at the penitentiary. In another 10 to 20, we’ll be able to do that without bulletproof glass separating us.
Anyway, if you noticed the large, lumbering beauty behind me, you’ve seen Beatrice. She’s a definite alpha-female around here. Also, she just built a nest and laid her eggs for the season, which means this mum’s maternal instinct is especially sharp right now.
Still, all it will take is a short puff and I’m sure we can get a closer look at her precious young’ins.”
[WHAT FOLLOWS IS TOO EXPLICIT TO DESCRIBE, THOUGH IF YOU’D BRIEFLY IMAGINE WHAT GOES INTO A GRADE-C HOT DOG, YOU MIGHT START TO REPRODUCE THE SQUIMISH SENSATION EVOKED BY THE ORIGINAL SCENE]
At least that’s how I imagine it would go.
Tune in tomorrow when we aim to examine communication with creatures that are less cold-blooded.
Music: “If I could Talk to the Animals” from Dr. Doolitle: the Musical
I recently discovered there was a program called “The Dog Whisperer.”
The idea just cracked me up. First people whisper to horses, then dogs. What’s next? “The Crocodile Whisperer?”
Actually, I believe I’d pay good money to watch that quality, albeit short-lived, program.
WARNING! This program is not intended for a young audience or those with frail dispositions. Viewer discretion is strongly advised.
No seriously. We mean it.
Still watching? Fine. Go ahead – no skin off our noses. We only ask you NOT to call our switchboards with complaints when the nightmares hit in a couple of hours. After all, we did warn you.
“Hello folks, and welcome back to the Crocodile Whisperer. As you can see I’ve largely healed up from the injuries I suffered in the pilot.
While me doctors, lawyers, and loved ones have encouraged me to seek a different vocation, I believe the best way to get over an injury is to jump back in the scaly saddle.
As always, I employ the advice me Daddy gave me when I was a wee boy: “Blow in her ear and she’ll follow you anywhere.”
Alas, me Dad died young. Not due to a reptilian debacle, but because me Mom caught him applying his technique with another woman, God rest his soul.
I still visit me parents every Thursday. I drop off flowers for Dad at the local graveyard before joining Mom for “tea” at the penitentiary. In another 10 to 20, we’ll be able to do that without bulletproof glass separating us.
Anyway, if you noticed the large, lumbering beauty behind me, you’ve seen Beatrice. She’s a definite alpha-female around here. Also, she just built a nest and laid her eggs for the season, which means this mum’s maternal instinct is especially sharp right now.
Still, all it will take is a short puff and I’m sure we can get a closer look at her precious young’ins.”
At least that’s how I imagine it would go.
Tune in tomorrow when we aim to examine communication with creatures that are less cold-blooded.
Friday, January 13, 2006
12:10 AM - Ending the Streak
And We Stop at 79.
Music: “Pressure Point” by the Zutons
"I can't get this pressure point out of my head,
I can't get this pressure point out of my head.
I feel it in work, you know, I feel it in bed.
I can't get this pressure point out of my head.
I've paid all my bills and I've acted so well.
Ain't been cheating; there's nothing to tell.
So why all this pressure - I don't understand.
I call on my neighbors, and lend them a hand."
I've had this song running through my head this morning. I like the lyrics that speak of a person who is feeling a bit off even though there's no serious reason for it. I also like the fact the band incorporates a saxophone into the rock beat. There's a fun music video that goes with the song, but I'll leave that for others to Google.
For those who have been keeping track, I'm officially ending the consecutive posting record I started back on October 23. If you didn’t get the hint from the title of the post, I had 79 posts in a row. This blew my old record of two weeks out of the water.
I blame the broken streak on the Days Inn. If their internet had remained accessible as promised, I could have kept things going. I worked to type things up, but I lacked the spare time to get things posted elsewhere. Also, the hotel staff figured out I was using their computer for word processing and started posting multiple signs that the computer was for “Guest internet use only” – and they added the underline, not me.
There was no line for the internet computer – which had no connection to the internet – and yet they still didn’t want me working on it. I still did some typing on the computer, though I kept saving my documents with titles like “Summer 2006 Rates – Tier 2” and “Shift C (Chad)” so the file log wouldn’t raise any red flags.
While I’ve done some flashback posting during this streak, I’ve tried not to let gaps stand more than three days tops. It’s a drag on the reader to suddenly be overwhelmed by a wave of words (in addition to the amount I normally type) and there’s a good chance the entry will be lost in the lurch.
I can always work on a series of throw-away posts, but I hate throwing out underdeveloped ideas. And in this case, I have a series of posts I’ve been polishing since I got here. I do think most of them are worth reading if only to try to convey the awe and shock of starting out in a new, exciting place.
Besides, if one’s going to sound the death knoll of a streak, what better day to do so than Friday the 13th? And it may be macabre and twisted, but I also know there are always sequels associated with Friday the 13th. I hope to have longer streaks in the future.
I still will have to do some stretching to get posts from notebooks to computers, but I’m hoping today marks the beginning of another record run.
Time will tell.
As for the promised “Welcome to Wyoming posts,” we’ll try to get to those again next week.
In the meantime, let’s try for consecutive writing streak #314.
Go!
Music: “Pressure Point” by the Zutons
"I can't get this pressure point out of my head,
I can't get this pressure point out of my head.
I feel it in work, you know, I feel it in bed.
I can't get this pressure point out of my head.
I've paid all my bills and I've acted so well.
Ain't been cheating; there's nothing to tell.
So why all this pressure - I don't understand.
I call on my neighbors, and lend them a hand."
I've had this song running through my head this morning. I like the lyrics that speak of a person who is feeling a bit off even though there's no serious reason for it. I also like the fact the band incorporates a saxophone into the rock beat. There's a fun music video that goes with the song, but I'll leave that for others to Google.
For those who have been keeping track, I'm officially ending the consecutive posting record I started back on October 23. If you didn’t get the hint from the title of the post, I had 79 posts in a row. This blew my old record of two weeks out of the water.
I blame the broken streak on the Days Inn. If their internet had remained accessible as promised, I could have kept things going. I worked to type things up, but I lacked the spare time to get things posted elsewhere. Also, the hotel staff figured out I was using their computer for word processing and started posting multiple signs that the computer was for “Guest internet use only” – and they added the underline, not me.
There was no line for the internet computer – which had no connection to the internet – and yet they still didn’t want me working on it. I still did some typing on the computer, though I kept saving my documents with titles like “Summer 2006 Rates – Tier 2” and “Shift C (Chad)” so the file log wouldn’t raise any red flags.
While I’ve done some flashback posting during this streak, I’ve tried not to let gaps stand more than three days tops. It’s a drag on the reader to suddenly be overwhelmed by a wave of words (in addition to the amount I normally type) and there’s a good chance the entry will be lost in the lurch.
I can always work on a series of throw-away posts, but I hate throwing out underdeveloped ideas. And in this case, I have a series of posts I’ve been polishing since I got here. I do think most of them are worth reading if only to try to convey the awe and shock of starting out in a new, exciting place.
Besides, if one’s going to sound the death knoll of a streak, what better day to do so than Friday the 13th? And it may be macabre and twisted, but I also know there are always sequels associated with Friday the 13th. I hope to have longer streaks in the future.
I still will have to do some stretching to get posts from notebooks to computers, but I’m hoping today marks the beginning of another record run.
Time will tell.
As for the promised “Welcome to Wyoming posts,” we’ll try to get to those again next week.
In the meantime, let’s try for consecutive writing streak #314.
Go!
Monday, January 09, 2006
11:50 AM - The Weekly Recap, Swapping Time Zones Edition
January 2 to January 9
Music: “Home on the Range” covered by Bugs Bunny
“Oh give me a home, where the buffalo roam…
And the deer and the antelopes play… and the rabbits.”
If it’s Monday, and I’m back on track, it’s recap day.
I guess I got through my first week living in Wyoming. I haven’t been done in by rabid wildlife, weather, or co-workers, yet.
Posts got a bit sporadic when the hotel internet connection went batty. Similar gaps may remain until I’m able to secure a less tenuous access to a computer. Nevertheless, entries did come through and online evidence let readers know I had made it, if only for another day.
For readers wanting more physical proof/postcards, look to the postcard exchange offer mentioned below. There should be no expiration date, though I’m still waiting on the legal guys to confirm this.
Last Monday, January 2, I made my last pre-Wyoming post prior to catching a very early morning flight.
Tuesday with my Monday farewell, the weekly recap got bumped a day and a bid an official farewell to 2005.
Wednesday I outlined my promise to send Wyoming-minted mailing to those who was willing to post or e-mail their address.
Thursday I shook hands with the Rock Springs mayor and got a library card. Instead of a discourse on local politics, I share my plight and embarrassment concerning the tiny bookshelf I lugged with me to Wyoming.
Friday I noticed that people were getting back to their holiday-neglected blogs and I sacrificed myself to the latest meme before anyone could tap me.
Saturday I interrupt a brief gap by explaining how the internet went out at my hotel and that friends and family members should be assured I wasn’t dead.
Sunday I kvetch about the wacky items that I personally wouldn’t stock in a hotel gift shop.
To come: I’m ready to start dishing out my first impressions about leaving Missouri and moving to Wyoming.
“Oh give me a home, where the buffalo roam…
And the deer and the antelopes play… and the rabbits.”
If it’s Monday, and I’m back on track, it’s recap day.
I guess I got through my first week living in Wyoming. I haven’t been done in by rabid wildlife, weather, or co-workers, yet.
Posts got a bit sporadic when the hotel internet connection went batty. Similar gaps may remain until I’m able to secure a less tenuous access to a computer. Nevertheless, entries did come through and online evidence let readers know I had made it, if only for another day.
For readers wanting more physical proof/postcards, look to the postcard exchange offer mentioned below. There should be no expiration date, though I’m still waiting on the legal guys to confirm this.
Last Monday, January 2, I made my last pre-Wyoming post prior to catching a very early morning flight.
Tuesday with my Monday farewell, the weekly recap got bumped a day and a bid an official farewell to 2005.
Wednesday I outlined my promise to send Wyoming-minted mailing to those who was willing to post or e-mail their address.
Thursday I shook hands with the Rock Springs mayor and got a library card. Instead of a discourse on local politics, I share my plight and embarrassment concerning the tiny bookshelf I lugged with me to Wyoming.
Friday I noticed that people were getting back to their holiday-neglected blogs and I sacrificed myself to the latest meme before anyone could tap me.
Saturday I interrupt a brief gap by explaining how the internet went out at my hotel and that friends and family members should be assured I wasn’t dead.
Sunday I kvetch about the wacky items that I personally wouldn’t stock in a hotel gift shop.
To come: I’m ready to start dishing out my first impressions about leaving Missouri and moving to Wyoming.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
11:50 AM - Gift Shop Madness
Music: “Money (That's What I Want)” covered by Flying Lizards
I’ve spent a bit of time in my hotel’s gift shop lately. The management stuck the one public access computer in amongst the racks of clothes and stuffed animals.
While I’ve spent most of my time in there staring at the computer – which is still lacking in an internet connection – I’ve peripherally taken in the sights.
Now that I stop to think about it, there are some bizarre, inappropriate, or downright stupid products for sale.
Here is my list of items that don’t belong in Days Inn Wyoming gift shop:
A deer stuffed animal – While the animal is biologically related to the area, this specific animal doesn’t seem family friendly. Due to the placement of its eyebrows in relation to the plastic eyes, the deer comes off looking malevolent. It’s like Bambi has finally caught up with the man who offed his mother – and it preparing his final revenge.
Butterfly-winged fairies – They’re nice and sweet but I question their place in a Wyoming gift shop. Fairies came from European folk tales. To my knowledge high-desert Native Americans didn’t have any legends of winged-Caucasian sprites. It’s as jaded as going to a tribal gift shop in Mongolia and finding little effigies of Uncle Sam, Paul Bunyan, and Johnny Appleseed.
A bear with a Pilgrim hat – Bear do work for the area, but the holiday is long pass and we’re some distance from Massachusetts.
Chocolate covered peanuts – While I don’t mind snacks, they belong in vending machines. Otherwise you take the risk that they’ve been hanging on a hook for years, like the peanuts I see on the wall. Same with the trail mix on the neighboring peg.
Beanie baby orca – I was repeated warned what to do in case of a water landing on my flight to Wyoming, but I doubt there’s a body of water that supports a whale in a 400-mile radius.
500-piece wild horse puzzle - It’s not the product I’m objecting to, but the fact it’s obviously been opened. Why feature an item that has been already opened and will probably leave you three pieces short when you finish emptying the box.
Candles - Being stuck in a non-smoking room with a prominently displayed smoke detector, I don’t think pushing candles is a wise decision.
Hot pink, purple, and fuchsia monkeys – These primates have never been found in nature, let alone Wyoming. Cryptozoologists are free to correct me.
Spring photo albums - Since I’m told the warmer season doesn’t start until June this is another item that seems premature in it’s posting (even if we keep starting holidays earlier and earlier each year).
Chugwater Chili packets - I don’t go to hotels to sample local cuisine. If I did, I would hit the restaurant rather than buy powderized soup to whip up in my own suite.
Dolls with crocheted dresses – They just freak me out, especially the one in navy blue (I think her name is Rachel).
Polar bears stuffed animals – It’s a bit too far south to feature this animals. Granted, it’s not as tropical as other places, but still, it shouldn’t be mixed in amongst the buffalo and antelope slippers.
I’ve spent a bit of time in my hotel’s gift shop lately. The management stuck the one public access computer in amongst the racks of clothes and stuffed animals.
While I’ve spent most of my time in there staring at the computer – which is still lacking in an internet connection – I’ve peripherally taken in the sights.
Now that I stop to think about it, there are some bizarre, inappropriate, or downright stupid products for sale.
Here is my list of items that don’t belong in Days Inn Wyoming gift shop:
A deer stuffed animal – While the animal is biologically related to the area, this specific animal doesn’t seem family friendly. Due to the placement of its eyebrows in relation to the plastic eyes, the deer comes off looking malevolent. It’s like Bambi has finally caught up with the man who offed his mother – and it preparing his final revenge.
Butterfly-winged fairies – They’re nice and sweet but I question their place in a Wyoming gift shop. Fairies came from European folk tales. To my knowledge high-desert Native Americans didn’t have any legends of winged-Caucasian sprites. It’s as jaded as going to a tribal gift shop in Mongolia and finding little effigies of Uncle Sam, Paul Bunyan, and Johnny Appleseed.
A bear with a Pilgrim hat – Bear do work for the area, but the holiday is long pass and we’re some distance from Massachusetts.
Chocolate covered peanuts – While I don’t mind snacks, they belong in vending machines. Otherwise you take the risk that they’ve been hanging on a hook for years, like the peanuts I see on the wall. Same with the trail mix on the neighboring peg.
Beanie baby orca – I was repeated warned what to do in case of a water landing on my flight to Wyoming, but I doubt there’s a body of water that supports a whale in a 400-mile radius.
500-piece wild horse puzzle - It’s not the product I’m objecting to, but the fact it’s obviously been opened. Why feature an item that has been already opened and will probably leave you three pieces short when you finish emptying the box.
Candles - Being stuck in a non-smoking room with a prominently displayed smoke detector, I don’t think pushing candles is a wise decision.
Hot pink, purple, and fuchsia monkeys – These primates have never been found in nature, let alone Wyoming. Cryptozoologists are free to correct me.
Spring photo albums - Since I’m told the warmer season doesn’t start until June this is another item that seems premature in it’s posting (even if we keep starting holidays earlier and earlier each year).
Chugwater Chili packets - I don’t go to hotels to sample local cuisine. If I did, I would hit the restaurant rather than buy powderized soup to whip up in my own suite.
Dolls with crocheted dresses – They just freak me out, especially the one in navy blue (I think her name is Rachel).
Polar bears stuffed animals – It’s a bit too far south to feature this animals. Granted, it’s not as tropical as other places, but still, it shouldn’t be mixed in amongst the buffalo and antelope slippers.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
4:10 PM - "I'm... wait, let me check my pulse...
Yep! I'm staying alive."
Music: “He is Not Dead Yet” from Spamalot
“I am not dead yet - I can dance and I can sing.
I am not dead yet - I can do the Highland Fling.
I am not dead yet; no need to go to bed.
No need to call the doctor, ‘cause I'm not yet dead.”
I checked it again. The pulse is still there.
Sorry for the gap in updates. The internet connection at the hotel went out. That meant the line was shorter for the computer, but one could only do so much with the machine.
For relatives who have been looking for regular, daily updates I fear they feared I was gone. Rest assured, I’m still alive.
Cancel the memorial service. Put the casket on hold. Stop revising the eulogy I wrote for myself (I left those self-depreciating remarks in there on purpose. Don’t cut them out for the sake of propriety. I’ve tried to find the humor in every other category in my life, why not take some graveside potshots on the way out as well).
If you’d look, you’d find back-posted entries on the days I missed. If you already sent flowers, I’ll gladly accept them. I don’t care if they’re lilies. They’ll spruce up the room quite nicely – anything for a bit more green among the gray and tan that is the motif of my hotel suite and the local landscape.
“I am not dead yet - I can dance and I can sing.
I am not dead yet - I can do the Highland Fling.
I am not dead yet; no need to go to bed.
No need to call the doctor, ‘cause I'm not yet dead.”
I checked it again. The pulse is still there.
Sorry for the gap in updates. The internet connection at the hotel went out. That meant the line was shorter for the computer, but one could only do so much with the machine.
For relatives who have been looking for regular, daily updates I fear they feared I was gone. Rest assured, I’m still alive.
Cancel the memorial service. Put the casket on hold. Stop revising the eulogy I wrote for myself (I left those self-depreciating remarks in there on purpose. Don’t cut them out for the sake of propriety. I’ve tried to find the humor in every other category in my life, why not take some graveside potshots on the way out as well).
If you’d look, you’d find back-posted entries on the days I missed. If you already sent flowers, I’ll gladly accept them. I don’t care if they’re lilies. They’ll spruce up the room quite nicely – anything for a bit more green among the gray and tan that is the motif of my hotel suite and the local landscape.
Friday, January 06, 2006
4:19 PM - Pre-emptive Self-Sacrificing
Music: “Red and Black - The ABC Cafe” from Les Miserables
It’s a matter of time before it swings my way.
The fate is unavoidable. There is nothing I can do to prevent it. Rather than flee what I cannot hope to escape, I will stand and face my fate. I prepare myself for the blow, praying that I won’t wince when the blade falls. Good, bad – it is accepted.
Words, unbidden, come to my lips: “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done.”
The meme is coming and I shall answer it before others call me on it: What are five of my weird habits:
5) If I am going a decent distance, I like to have a compass on my person.
4) After I watch a movie, I like to go to the
Internet Movie Database and read quotes and trivia about the flick.
3) I often tap the top step with my toe before entering a building.
2) When I purchase a book, if there is a sticker on it I will peel it off and stick it on the inside cover.
1) I save those “Inspected by” labels that you find in clothing… just in case…
It’s a matter of time before it swings my way.
The fate is unavoidable. There is nothing I can do to prevent it. Rather than flee what I cannot hope to escape, I will stand and face my fate. I prepare myself for the blow, praying that I won’t wince when the blade falls. Good, bad – it is accepted.
Words, unbidden, come to my lips: “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done.”
The meme is coming and I shall answer it before others call me on it: What are five of my weird habits:
5) If I am going a decent distance, I like to have a compass on my person.
4) After I watch a movie, I like to go to the
Internet Movie Database and read quotes and trivia about the flick.
3) I often tap the top step with my toe before entering a building.
2) When I purchase a book, if there is a sticker on it I will peel it off and stick it on the inside cover.
1) I save those “Inspected by” labels that you find in clothing… just in case…
Thursday, January 05, 2006
4:17 PM - Travelin' Library
Music: “Travelin’ Man” by Bob Seger
Tweaking lyrics: “Up with the sun, readin’ “Gone With the Wind. She always said I was lazy…”
I’m still busy with the initial “settling” chores one must undertake when entering a new community. Yesterday, I checked out some more apartments, shook hands with the Rock Springs mayor, and most importantly, completed the paperwork to get a library card.
My family has long emphasized reading. Years before my mother became a school librarian, my sister and I were regularly showered with books. Instead of a video gaming system or other hi-tech toys, we got tomes. It is for that reason that I am a vociferous reader and remain an easy kill when playing Halo deathmatches with friends.
It was a good trade off, though that sometimes hard to remember when I get sniped for the fifth time in a row.
Disregarding my underdeveloped gaming skills, books continue to be important to me. When I visit a new place, one of the first questions I have concerns the local library system. How much a community puts into a library speaks volumes to me. I’ll still frequent a sub-standard library if that’s all they have, but it’s nice to be in a place that clearly values the public collection and dispersal of literature. And if they rent CDs and DVDs too, that’s a bonus.
I’ll have to wait a few days for my library card to arrive in the mail (I’ve been putting down the newspaper’s address on certain forms since the Holiday Inn won’t cut it for many people). In the meantime, I still have the books I carried with me from Missouri.
Those who have seen my book collection in the past shouldn’t be surprised I would attempt to cram an “exile bookshelf” amongst the various clothes and knick knacks I lugged with me. It’s the smallest collection I’ve maintained in many years. Some people would find it funny that I’m slightly embarrassed by its miniature stature, but it’s the best I can do.
For those of you who are interested, here are the titles from my abridged bookshelf:
“45 Simple Object Talks for Children” by Barbara Ebert and Ruth Shannon Odor
“Alfred Hitchcock Presents: More of My Favorites in Suspense”
“The Associated Press Stylebook”
“Battlestar Galatica 11: The Nightmare Machine” by Glen A Larson and Robert Thurston
“Bee Season” by Myla Goldberg
“Bobby Fischer Goes to War” by Dave Edmonds and John Eidinow
“Eric” by Terry Pratchett
“The Forest for the Trees: An Editor’s Advice to Writers” by Besty Lener
“The Holy Bible: King James Edition”
“How Angel Peterson Got His Name” by Gary Paulsen
“Idaho, Montana, Wyoming - Tourbook” by AAA
“It All Started with Columbus” by Richard Armour
“Long Live the King - The Wizard of Id #9” by Johnny Hart and Bret Parker
“Mere Christianity” by C.S. Lewis
“The Name of the Rose” by Umberto Eco
“Penn and Teller’s How to Play in Traffic”
“The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde
“The Question of Hu” by Jonathan D. Spence
“A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23” by Phillip Keller
“Stardust” by Neil Gaiman
“Supervision: Managing for Results - 8th Edition” by John W. Newstrom and Lester R Bittel
“Tilt: A Skewed History of the Tower of Pisa” by Nicholas Shrady
“The Ultimate Spiderman” edited by Stan Lee
“The Umbrella Man and Other Stories” by Roald Dahl.
“The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Travel” and “The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Work” both edited by Joshua Piven and David Borgenicht
Tweaking lyrics: “Up with the sun, readin’ “Gone With the Wind. She always said I was lazy…”
I’m still busy with the initial “settling” chores one must undertake when entering a new community. Yesterday, I checked out some more apartments, shook hands with the Rock Springs mayor, and most importantly, completed the paperwork to get a library card.
My family has long emphasized reading. Years before my mother became a school librarian, my sister and I were regularly showered with books. Instead of a video gaming system or other hi-tech toys, we got tomes. It is for that reason that I am a vociferous reader and remain an easy kill when playing Halo deathmatches with friends.
It was a good trade off, though that sometimes hard to remember when I get sniped for the fifth time in a row.
Disregarding my underdeveloped gaming skills, books continue to be important to me. When I visit a new place, one of the first questions I have concerns the local library system. How much a community puts into a library speaks volumes to me. I’ll still frequent a sub-standard library if that’s all they have, but it’s nice to be in a place that clearly values the public collection and dispersal of literature. And if they rent CDs and DVDs too, that’s a bonus.
I’ll have to wait a few days for my library card to arrive in the mail (I’ve been putting down the newspaper’s address on certain forms since the Holiday Inn won’t cut it for many people). In the meantime, I still have the books I carried with me from Missouri.
Those who have seen my book collection in the past shouldn’t be surprised I would attempt to cram an “exile bookshelf” amongst the various clothes and knick knacks I lugged with me. It’s the smallest collection I’ve maintained in many years. Some people would find it funny that I’m slightly embarrassed by its miniature stature, but it’s the best I can do.
For those of you who are interested, here are the titles from my abridged bookshelf:
“45 Simple Object Talks for Children” by Barbara Ebert and Ruth Shannon Odor
“Alfred Hitchcock Presents: More of My Favorites in Suspense”
“The Associated Press Stylebook”
“Battlestar Galatica 11: The Nightmare Machine” by Glen A Larson and Robert Thurston
“Bee Season” by Myla Goldberg
“Bobby Fischer Goes to War” by Dave Edmonds and John Eidinow
“Eric” by Terry Pratchett
“The Forest for the Trees: An Editor’s Advice to Writers” by Besty Lener
“The Holy Bible: King James Edition”
“How Angel Peterson Got His Name” by Gary Paulsen
“Idaho, Montana, Wyoming - Tourbook” by AAA
“It All Started with Columbus” by Richard Armour
“Long Live the King - The Wizard of Id #9” by Johnny Hart and Bret Parker
“Mere Christianity” by C.S. Lewis
“The Name of the Rose” by Umberto Eco
“Penn and Teller’s How to Play in Traffic”
“The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde
“The Question of Hu” by Jonathan D. Spence
“A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23” by Phillip Keller
“Stardust” by Neil Gaiman
“Supervision: Managing for Results - 8th Edition” by John W. Newstrom and Lester R Bittel
“Tilt: A Skewed History of the Tower of Pisa” by Nicholas Shrady
“The Ultimate Spiderman” edited by Stan Lee
“The Umbrella Man and Other Stories” by Roald Dahl.
“The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Travel” and “The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Work” both edited by Joshua Piven and David Borgenicht
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
9:00 AM - Marevelous Mailing Possibilities
Music: “Please Mr. Postman” by Marvelettes
“Please Mister Postman, look and see -
If there's a letter in your bag for me.”
G’day!
I survived my first day at work. Today promises to be much more interesting since the person who was training me (and is my immediate supervisor) won’t by editing, which means it’s drop-the-baby-in-the-pool-and-see-how-he-floats time.
It’s a good thing I have a serious case of denial, or else I’d be extremely freaked right now.
I have plenty of things in my notebook. Some entries are finished, but others need more polishing. Since I’d like to recount events in order - that always seems to help the narrative - I’m going to put off for at least one more day posting Wyoming musings.
Instead, let me renew an old offer:
In the past I offered to send postcards to anyone who asked. I only got a limited number of replies. I figure people were busy and that Jefferson City postcards were only so appealing (I mean they have a fancy capitol building, a smattering of decent statutes, and not much else). From Wyoming, I can offer high desert vistas, cowboys, buffalo, and images of the infamous jackalope.
Just e-mail or post a comment listing your receiving address. It’s that simple.
When I get an address of my own, I may solicit postcards in return, but we’ll get to that later. For now, I need to review my newspaper stylebook and stock up on groceries.
Here’s looking to everybody going postal.
“Deliver the letter, the sooner the better.”
“Please Mister Postman, look and see -
If there's a letter in your bag for me.”
G’day!
I survived my first day at work. Today promises to be much more interesting since the person who was training me (and is my immediate supervisor) won’t by editing, which means it’s drop-the-baby-in-the-pool-and-see-how-he-floats time.
It’s a good thing I have a serious case of denial, or else I’d be extremely freaked right now.
I have plenty of things in my notebook. Some entries are finished, but others need more polishing. Since I’d like to recount events in order - that always seems to help the narrative - I’m going to put off for at least one more day posting Wyoming musings.
Instead, let me renew an old offer:
In the past I offered to send postcards to anyone who asked. I only got a limited number of replies. I figure people were busy and that Jefferson City postcards were only so appealing (I mean they have a fancy capitol building, a smattering of decent statutes, and not much else). From Wyoming, I can offer high desert vistas, cowboys, buffalo, and images of the infamous jackalope.
Just e-mail or post a comment listing your receiving address. It’s that simple.
When I get an address of my own, I may solicit postcards in return, but we’ll get to that later. For now, I need to review my newspaper stylebook and stock up on groceries.
Here’s looking to everybody going postal.
“Deliver the letter, the sooner the better.”
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
9:39 AM - The Weekly Recap, Year Straddling Edition
December 26, 2005 to January 3, 2006
Music: “Auld Lang Syne” by Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians
If it’s Monday, and I’m flying to Wyoming, Tuesdays is recap day. I’ve logged up a handful of posts to keep the site moving regularly for a little while. They should just be point and click and publish. If I do find a decent internet connection (and some free time), I’ll probably mix and match some fresh entries with the canned writings. If you see this, it means I landed safely (twice) and have found rudimentary internet access.
Anyway, the mainstream holiday season is over. We’ve got a while until the next big marquee holiday (and I know some of you are already dreading Singles Awareness Day on February 14). Most people slow down their posting over the holiday because they’re busy and not many people are reading (don’t think I don’t keep track of the counter statistics).
Last Monday, December 26, was the regular recap day.
Tuesday I jumped on the meme bandwagon and reviewed the year that was 2005.
Wednesday I voiced vocal concerns that popped up during some serious gaming with my younger cousins in Iowa.
Thursday we explore my closet concerns. No skeletons are exposed, we do illustrate my casual history with clothes and the conflicts that have had with dress codes.
Friday I picked my “Picture of the Year for 2005.” It’s an obvious fake and I may be the only person who finds it funny, but it’s my website, so there.
Saturday I posted the results of several online quizzes in lieu of any serious end of the year meditation.
Sunday I outlined my history of unimpressive New Year’s Eves (and unimpressive resolutions).
On Monday, January 2, I start flapping my arms for Wyoming. And when that doesn’t work, I take a plane instead. Farewells, best wishes, bad puns abound.
To come: We’ll see what happens when our intrepid writer smacks up against the unforgiving wall that is real life. Hilarity and hard knocks (not necessarily in that order) ensue.
If it’s Monday, and I’m flying to Wyoming, Tuesdays is recap day. I’ve logged up a handful of posts to keep the site moving regularly for a little while. They should just be point and click and publish. If I do find a decent internet connection (and some free time), I’ll probably mix and match some fresh entries with the canned writings. If you see this, it means I landed safely (twice) and have found rudimentary internet access.
Anyway, the mainstream holiday season is over. We’ve got a while until the next big marquee holiday (and I know some of you are already dreading Singles Awareness Day on February 14). Most people slow down their posting over the holiday because they’re busy and not many people are reading (don’t think I don’t keep track of the counter statistics).
Last Monday, December 26, was the regular recap day.
Tuesday I jumped on the meme bandwagon and reviewed the year that was 2005.
Wednesday I voiced vocal concerns that popped up during some serious gaming with my younger cousins in Iowa.
Thursday we explore my closet concerns. No skeletons are exposed, we do illustrate my casual history with clothes and the conflicts that have had with dress codes.
Friday I picked my “Picture of the Year for 2005.” It’s an obvious fake and I may be the only person who finds it funny, but it’s my website, so there.
Saturday I posted the results of several online quizzes in lieu of any serious end of the year meditation.
Sunday I outlined my history of unimpressive New Year’s Eves (and unimpressive resolutions).
On Monday, January 2, I start flapping my arms for Wyoming. And when that doesn’t work, I take a plane instead. Farewells, best wishes, bad puns abound.
To come: We’ll see what happens when our intrepid writer smacks up against the unforgiving wall that is real life. Hilarity and hard knocks (not necessarily in that order) ensue.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
11:44 PM - Why, Wyoming, Why?
Music: “Why Georgia” by John Mayer
- I hate to change lyrics, but I’ve had this pun flittering around my head for a while.
By the time you read this, I’ll probably already be in Wyoming, or at least more up in the air than I normally am (physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, metaphorically, and other –ally’s).
Wherever I am, you can probably bet I’m sleep-deprived, excited, scared, and a host of conflicting emotions all at the same time. My fingers will probably be ink stained and I hope to be having the time of my life (hopefully one of the better ones). It should be informative and interesting, regardless.
I’m not sure how posting will be for a while. My big, clunky computer is not making the flight with me and I’m not sure what the paper’s policy is on personal internet use (I’ve asked, but have yet to get that clarified). There is a library near work with public internet access, though it may take a while to get a library card.
We’ll be playing things by ear for a while… not that this will be a new development.
I know I’ll have a lot to write about. The tricky thing will simply be finding the time to record those impressions and put them online while learning the ropes of a new job and trying to land more permanent housing than a motel suite.
“Cause I wonder sometimes
About the outcome...
Of a still verdictless life.”
It’s been interesting trying to cram my life into four little bags. Books, clothes, knick-knacks. How little can one survive on, I’ve had to ask. I have an answer, and it’s a trial by wire to see if it works out. I’m working without a net, so those of you who stick around for ringside seats may be in for a show. Life is always crazy under the big top, and I’d better move on before I mangle this metaphor much more.
I’m elated and sad. I’m beginning a new chapter, again. The last one seemed really short. I’ve turned a number of pages over the last few months, all leading up to this. I’m keen to see what happens next, even as I find myself pulled away from familiar faces and places.
Since leaving MU, and spending time apart from the place I spent over four years, I found myself missing my friends but being thankful for the family support I enjoyed. This time, I’m leaving the family behind as well. I know e-mail, phone cards, and blogging will maintain lines of communication, but it we will be farther removed than ever before. That was the benefit of going to school in-state. I got to leave home, but hugs, fresh baked cookies, and parent-paid-for Wal-Mart trips were only a few hours away. Now that I’ll have a major mountain chain between me and them, we’ll have to see how both sides adjust to the difference.
“So what, so I've got a smile on.
But it's hiding the quiet superstitions in my head.
Don't believe me (Don’t believe me…)
When I say I've got it down.”
After getting out of college, I had the mental image of myself running toward a gaping canyon. I was moving at top speed, and while I never seemed to get closer to the edge, the opposite side, conversely, seemed to keep moving farther back. As I progressed, I found the jump becoming more and more improbable to complete or even contemplate. Despite this, I was even more determined to try and found myself pushing myself even harder toward the chasm.
In my mind’s eye, I recently looked down and realized I had jumped. There was nothing beneath me. When I wasn’t paying attention, I had made the leap and was flying across the expanse. My forward momentum was still sending me toward the ever-receding side. No, proper physics hadn’t entered the situation, but at this late of date I wasn’t expecting it to. The wait now wasn’t to see whether I jumped, but to see if I landed.
I wager I’ll still be waiting at the end of the day, but I hope to have better indication of how things will turn out. I have a guess, of course, but I’m admittedly biased.
“Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Why, Wyoming, why?”
Time will tell.
- I hate to change lyrics, but I’ve had this pun flittering around my head for a while.
By the time you read this, I’ll probably already be in Wyoming, or at least more up in the air than I normally am (physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, metaphorically, and other –ally’s).
Wherever I am, you can probably bet I’m sleep-deprived, excited, scared, and a host of conflicting emotions all at the same time. My fingers will probably be ink stained and I hope to be having the time of my life (hopefully one of the better ones). It should be informative and interesting, regardless.
I’m not sure how posting will be for a while. My big, clunky computer is not making the flight with me and I’m not sure what the paper’s policy is on personal internet use (I’ve asked, but have yet to get that clarified). There is a library near work with public internet access, though it may take a while to get a library card.
We’ll be playing things by ear for a while… not that this will be a new development.
I know I’ll have a lot to write about. The tricky thing will simply be finding the time to record those impressions and put them online while learning the ropes of a new job and trying to land more permanent housing than a motel suite.
“Cause I wonder sometimes
About the outcome...
Of a still verdictless life.”
It’s been interesting trying to cram my life into four little bags. Books, clothes, knick-knacks. How little can one survive on, I’ve had to ask. I have an answer, and it’s a trial by wire to see if it works out. I’m working without a net, so those of you who stick around for ringside seats may be in for a show. Life is always crazy under the big top, and I’d better move on before I mangle this metaphor much more.
I’m elated and sad. I’m beginning a new chapter, again. The last one seemed really short. I’ve turned a number of pages over the last few months, all leading up to this. I’m keen to see what happens next, even as I find myself pulled away from familiar faces and places.
Since leaving MU, and spending time apart from the place I spent over four years, I found myself missing my friends but being thankful for the family support I enjoyed. This time, I’m leaving the family behind as well. I know e-mail, phone cards, and blogging will maintain lines of communication, but it we will be farther removed than ever before. That was the benefit of going to school in-state. I got to leave home, but hugs, fresh baked cookies, and parent-paid-for Wal-Mart trips were only a few hours away. Now that I’ll have a major mountain chain between me and them, we’ll have to see how both sides adjust to the difference.
“So what, so I've got a smile on.
But it's hiding the quiet superstitions in my head.
Don't believe me (Don’t believe me…)
When I say I've got it down.”
After getting out of college, I had the mental image of myself running toward a gaping canyon. I was moving at top speed, and while I never seemed to get closer to the edge, the opposite side, conversely, seemed to keep moving farther back. As I progressed, I found the jump becoming more and more improbable to complete or even contemplate. Despite this, I was even more determined to try and found myself pushing myself even harder toward the chasm.
In my mind’s eye, I recently looked down and realized I had jumped. There was nothing beneath me. When I wasn’t paying attention, I had made the leap and was flying across the expanse. My forward momentum was still sending me toward the ever-receding side. No, proper physics hadn’t entered the situation, but at this late of date I wasn’t expecting it to. The wait now wasn’t to see whether I jumped, but to see if I landed.
I wager I’ll still be waiting at the end of the day, but I hope to have better indication of how things will turn out. I have a guess, of course, but I’m admittedly biased.
“Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Why, Wyoming, why?”
Time will tell.
9:42 AM - Lazy New Year’s Eve
Music: “Tive Razão” by Seu Jorge
- The Seu Jorge CD “Cru,” or “raw” for those of you unfamiliar with Brazilian Portuguese, was one of the reward gifts I gave myself in preparation for leaving for Wyoming
I crashed just after 10 p.m. last night.
The only New Year’s celebratory fireworks I saw where in Sydney – and those had cooled long before I got up yesterday.
I’m not fishing for pity or anything here. Frankly, I’ve never cared for New Year’s Eve.
I’ve long bucked making resolutions based on personal conviction that one shouldn’t wait for numerical justification before undertaking serious changes in your life. Besides, I often lowball my resolutions to mock others who make such a big deal over their goals.
“This year, I’m going to drop at least two dress sizes.”
“Really? This year I’d like to make a weight loss in the single digits and strive to eat less chocolate mints on Thursdays.”
I’ve made some people quite steamed when I voiced my declarations, but I have the longer-term satisfaction that I have a better chance of achieving my goal.
Big, blow-out parties have never attracted me either. New Year’s is usually spent with my family, so I’ve never really had to worry about finding someone to kiss at midnight. Consider me mistletoe proof.
During the handful of times over the years I found myself removed from relatives, other factors intruded in fantastic and unexpected ways.
One of my more memorable New Year’s Eves concluded when I was sitting on a bus driving through the middle of a Texan dessert while Prince’s “1999.” My evening had started at the South Fork Ranch, the extremely swanky complex where they filmed the television series “Dallas.” I was there, along with several thousands others, as part of the festivities for those who would perform in the Cotton Bowl parade the next day. My high school marching band had gotten an invite to attend.
I knew several friends who had half-seriously joked about having three hours to find someone to kiss by midnight. I was not in that group, though I did assist them by acting as a spotter who could look to see if certain people were looking at other individuals (I would take notice if others took notice of a person temporarily leaving the room). Several plans were in motion, working toward the big countdown, when the chaperones of the band decided to pull our group out of the mix 20 minutes before midnight.
The stated rationale was that it would be more difficult to “extract” the scattered band members after midnight when everybody would start leaving at the same time. I give credit to their logic, though I don’t think that’s the whole story. Earlier that evening, I’d challenged God to come up with a surprising midnight conclusion that I wouldn’t be able to previously predict.
Note: Don’t EVER do this! It doesn’t matter how many possibilities you have dreamed and weighed. If God takes you up on this challenge, you will be creamed.
So there I was, on a dimly lit bus with about 30 other disenchanted peers, listening to Prince sing on the radio while we rode past the fallow ranchlands back to our hotel.
On New Year’s Day, the chaperones would pull the stunt again. We left the Cotton Bowl partway through the third quarter, in this case to beat bad weather approaching to the north. To ease the blow, however, they let us play “Rudy” on the bus VCR which was, admittedly, a much more enjoyable experience.
The students would have their revenge when the band convoy was caught in a major snow storm and forced to spend the money to put the group up for an extra night as some roadside hotel that made some of us think of Norman Bates. Hmm… Maybe I should rethink who triumphed over who in that case.
Anyway, if this is my most notable New Year’s, that should give you a feel for how the others went. Maybe someday I’ll be able to throw myself into the festivities – the noisemakers, the resolutions, Dick Clark doing his Dorian Gray impression, etc.
But for now, with all the last minute packing I’m doing, I was content to treat it as just another evening. Now if you will excuse me, I have a personal pledge to eat more chocolate chip cookies in 2006 that I need to get to work on.
- The Seu Jorge CD “Cru,” or “raw” for those of you unfamiliar with Brazilian Portuguese, was one of the reward gifts I gave myself in preparation for leaving for Wyoming
I crashed just after 10 p.m. last night.
The only New Year’s celebratory fireworks I saw where in Sydney – and those had cooled long before I got up yesterday.
I’m not fishing for pity or anything here. Frankly, I’ve never cared for New Year’s Eve.
I’ve long bucked making resolutions based on personal conviction that one shouldn’t wait for numerical justification before undertaking serious changes in your life. Besides, I often lowball my resolutions to mock others who make such a big deal over their goals.
“This year, I’m going to drop at least two dress sizes.”
“Really? This year I’d like to make a weight loss in the single digits and strive to eat less chocolate mints on Thursdays.”
I’ve made some people quite steamed when I voiced my declarations, but I have the longer-term satisfaction that I have a better chance of achieving my goal.
Big, blow-out parties have never attracted me either. New Year’s is usually spent with my family, so I’ve never really had to worry about finding someone to kiss at midnight. Consider me mistletoe proof.
During the handful of times over the years I found myself removed from relatives, other factors intruded in fantastic and unexpected ways.
One of my more memorable New Year’s Eves concluded when I was sitting on a bus driving through the middle of a Texan dessert while Prince’s “1999.” My evening had started at the South Fork Ranch, the extremely swanky complex where they filmed the television series “Dallas.” I was there, along with several thousands others, as part of the festivities for those who would perform in the Cotton Bowl parade the next day. My high school marching band had gotten an invite to attend.
I knew several friends who had half-seriously joked about having three hours to find someone to kiss by midnight. I was not in that group, though I did assist them by acting as a spotter who could look to see if certain people were looking at other individuals (I would take notice if others took notice of a person temporarily leaving the room). Several plans were in motion, working toward the big countdown, when the chaperones of the band decided to pull our group out of the mix 20 minutes before midnight.
The stated rationale was that it would be more difficult to “extract” the scattered band members after midnight when everybody would start leaving at the same time. I give credit to their logic, though I don’t think that’s the whole story. Earlier that evening, I’d challenged God to come up with a surprising midnight conclusion that I wouldn’t be able to previously predict.
Note: Don’t EVER do this! It doesn’t matter how many possibilities you have dreamed and weighed. If God takes you up on this challenge, you will be creamed.
So there I was, on a dimly lit bus with about 30 other disenchanted peers, listening to Prince sing on the radio while we rode past the fallow ranchlands back to our hotel.
On New Year’s Day, the chaperones would pull the stunt again. We left the Cotton Bowl partway through the third quarter, in this case to beat bad weather approaching to the north. To ease the blow, however, they let us play “Rudy” on the bus VCR which was, admittedly, a much more enjoyable experience.
The students would have their revenge when the band convoy was caught in a major snow storm and forced to spend the money to put the group up for an extra night as some roadside hotel that made some of us think of Norman Bates. Hmm… Maybe I should rethink who triumphed over who in that case.
Anyway, if this is my most notable New Year’s, that should give you a feel for how the others went. Maybe someday I’ll be able to throw myself into the festivities – the noisemakers, the resolutions, Dick Clark doing his Dorian Gray impression, etc.
But for now, with all the last minute packing I’m doing, I was content to treat it as just another evening. Now if you will excuse me, I have a personal pledge to eat more chocolate chip cookies in 2006 that I need to get to work on.
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