Drowning above water

Alright, I wasn't going to, but I am...



Tomorrow is the 2nd anniversary of the passing of my Dad (if that's something you actually commemorate with an "anniversary"). I wasn't going to write about it, since I don't see a lot of humor about that subject, and these blogs - for anyone that has ever read one of them - are mostly irreverent. There's a word Dad probably never used. Irreverent. Well, he would have used it, but he would have used it as "irrevelent"....which isn't even a word (but it is close), but Dad made up all kinds of words. One of the reasons I loved him. He also said "everythink"....and "acrosst". All the time. I never corrected him. Why bother? I knew what he meant.

So let's see where this one goes....

Mom was (and is) the musical one, but Dad listened to his share of music as well.
Here's one he liked. I like it too.

The photo at the top of my blogs is a picture of my Dad. If you didn't know better you'd think it was from one of those "Our Gang" or "Little Rascals" serials. It's not. That's the real McCoy.
This isn't.


I love that picture of Dad...what a character. I love seeing it at the top of the page when I write and read these horrific blogs of mine. It makes me feel that Dad is doing them with me, although he's not...and never would have. Remember, his command of the written word was not his strongest suit. Doesn't matter.

So, two years ago tomorrow. Christ. Really? Can it be? It can't. Without going into great detail of his death, the tragedy and the sorrow, let me just say this. It was as peaceful as it could have been. The whole family had been on a bedside vigil for about 24 hours, thinking each one of those hours could be his last...expecting one to be his last...almost hoping one to be his last. When the time finally came, we almost missed it. It just ended. No fanfare...no great last revelation...no epiphany from above. Just emptiness. Disbelief. Sorrow and relief. When it was over we almost felt like, "Now what?. What do we do now that Dad is gone?". Surreal.

I went home that afternoon...a little sleep deprived...sat in the corner of the living room in silence...and five minutes later, had this.
______________________________________________________________________

Drowning above water

How does it feel to drown, but not underwater?

My Dad did it year after year.

How do you walk, talk, be a normal human being

When everything consumes you with fear?

Remember how you once stood tall and proud?

There was no place you could go

Without seeing someone you knew

With a smile a wink and a pat on the back you’d always say hello.

To me you were always a hero, Ted Williams, Bob Cousy,

Johnny Cash or John Wayne.

You were so proud and confident and strong

Before your days were filled with pain.

Then you became something more.

I saw you with all your flaws.

I saw you fail, and get knocked down

And then that gave me pause.

You didn’t need to be a hero

To be famous to me

Your biggest gift was showing me how to love

And not be afraid to let others see.

Your influence on me is enormous

I’ll always look up to you

I’ll never be as great as you were

But finally my dreams for you have come true.

So now there’s no more drowning

No more fear, no more shame

Now you’re flying in the breeze

No more fears - you won - you overcame.

_______________________________________________________________

Maybe not my best, but Mom liked it...it made her feel good, and that made me feel good....and it just came. No rewrites, no editing, it just came. Maybe a little healing took place in those five minutes it took me to come up with that. Grief can't be explained, the time it takes to recover... no one really knows. 

Enough with the maudlin. I'm going to swing by to visit my Dad tomorrow. Tell him about my youngest leading her basketball team in scoring...how she got elected to the 4th grade school council...how my oldest is now living on her own and doing so well with her career...and...well, you know? maybe he knows all that already. Maybe I'll just go and hang out for awhile.

I'll leave you with two things...

anyone that uses the word "titstick" the next time I see them will get either a handshake, a hug, or a kiss (whichever is most appropriate)...if you need a reminder on that one, here it is...

http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/09/last-night-i-dreamt-i-went-to-manderlay.html

and, I've still got a boxful of ashes waiting to be scattered, anyone got a way for me to get to the pitchers mound of Fenway Park?

Whitney Houston

This blog has nothing to do with Whitney Houston, but I thought the topical title might be the hook.

This will be one of those random blogs. There's your fair warning.

Actually, one Whitney Houston comment...my oldest daughter shares the same name (maybe not so coincidentally - Whitney Houston was HUGE when she was born, which also explains why there is a plethora of Whitneys between the ages of 20-24) and, this is coincidentally, the same birthday.

Small world.

This was the number one song the week Whitney Houston was born.
Fingertips Part 2. "Little Stevie" Wonder.

"Little Stevie" was 12 years old here. Like his music or not (and when you really get down to it, who doesn't like at least a little Stevie Wonder...not to be confused with "Little Stevie" Wonder), there's no denying that this guy was not a musical genius. In the league with Lennon and McCartney, Ray Davies, Mozart, Hendrix, and Eddie Money. (I'm kidding about one of those...up to you to guess which one).

As an adult, "Little Stevie" grew up to be a BIG man. I'm talking Pompatus of Pete big. My lovely wife once rode on the same flight with him. Stevie (notice I've dropped the little at this point) was in first class and my wife was at the front of business class (or whatever the airlines now call where the commoners sit). She had a direct sight line to him for the whole flight and couldn't take her eyes off of him. It got to the point where Stevie actually turned around a couple of times and said "Are you looking at me?"...which is really something, since we all know Stevie Wonder is blind. Not that it matters, but he was wearing some sort of mumu or African robe or some such thing. Maybe not the best look for a big man.




Random shifting of gears about to take place here...

I'm going through elementary school for the second time as a parent with quite a gap between the two. The first time I was on the young side. I would have been about 28 or 29 when my first daughter started kindergarten. This time I was fairly well established into my 40's when my youngest daughter started. Somehow I've now become one of the older parents at school.

It had slowly been sinking in that that was my standing, but I've been getting hit over the head with it lately. I'm wishing all of these parents a happy 40th birthday on facebook (When I turned 40 the twin towers still existed.....actually, that's incorrect, but you're following my drift)...at parties with the other parents the music turns to the 80's - everybody knows any proper party only consists of music from the 60's and 70's...and after my daughters basketball practice they're all amazed that a guy my age can still shoot a basketball. (although none would be surprised by my inability to run up and down the court).

There's good and bad aspects of this. One good is that other parents look to and listen to you for your experience. One bad is that other parents look to and listen to you for your experience. Although I've certainly learned from some mistakes I may have made the first go round I'm far from an expert. I have learned a few things that I do readily share with anyone that will listen. My oldest has turned into a wonderful young lady, so trust me, I know these work.

1. You kid's friends mean everything. It does make a difference. This applies to their friends parents as well.
2. PARTICIPATE. Sports, theater, clubs, it doesn't matter what it is, but it does matter. Really. it does.
3. Parents be involved. As they get older the opportunities decrease for personal interaction within the confines of school...take advantage of it now while you can.
4. Homework matters. Teach the skills of responsibility while they're young and it stays with them for the rest of their lives.
5. Read. Read. Read. Read. No debate allowed on this one.

I thought that picture deserved to be bigger than the others.

Speaking of reading, (another random shift here) I'll occasionally try and read a classic that I had never read before.
This time it's Moby Dick. It's not going well. I wonder if it's because I'm reading it on a Kindle and not a book. There's a lot to be said about technology, but I'm a bit torn on this one. There truly is something to be said about the feel of a book in your hands. The smell of the pages. The process of reopening it to your bookmarked page. The progress felt as you turn each page. I don't know. This is a guy that's not so sure that digital music sounds better than an album.


That's it for now. I'm going to go see if I've got a Whitney Houston album buried somewhere in the basement. That's as long as I can make down and then back up the stairs.

Peace and love to all...

...oh, and I might spin into the library to pick up a copy of Moby Dick...or maybe Don Quixote.

truth be told

OK, deep breath......
A while back I posted the explanation to lyrics to a popular song.
In case you didn't catch it the first time, here it is again

http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/10/why-didnt-he-just-say-that-in-first.html

Basically, I told the story of the hidden meaning behind the lyrics of a popular song. I had dozens (well, maybe not dozens) of people thank me for helping to provide them the insight into what the writer was truly trying to convey in his song. Although it's not true that I will be teaching a course next semester at the Select Institute of Music Professional Lyricists Employers of Maine (SIMPLE ME), it is true that I will occasionally bore you with hidden meanings to other songs (usually when I'm bereft of other things to write about).

As with the first one, this is my interpretation of what the TRUE meaning behind the lyrics are. These are undisputedly accurate. If you don't believe me, that's your cross to bear, not mine.

So...without further ado....(and since I'm just back from the Sunshine state)

Summer Breeze

This was told to me personally by Jim Seals (the one with the goatee) in 1977. Little known fact, Jim was one hell of a basketball player. He shared a backcourt with Pistol Pete Maravich at LSU in the late 60's and probably would have gone on to play in the NBA if it wasn't for the freak accident at Mardis Gras in 1970, that led to his having to wear a cap at all times and never cut his hair for the rest of his life.

An even littler known fact was that Jim lived in a trailer park in Scarborough Maine in the late 70's (actually, he Summered there. Jim was a bit...how shall we say...offbeat).




Jim coached my Summer league basketball team one year when our original coach had to pay off a gambling bet by substituting for that guy that used to guess your weight, or age, or name, or shoe size, down at Old Orchard Beach

....but that's a different story.



I remember the exact moment. It was the last practice of the Summer and I had come in last place in running suicides...which I had every time I ran suicides that Summer...I was feeling a little down (actually looking back on it, I think it was exhaustion), and to make me feel better (and to take my mind off of the iv that was being administered to me) Jim told me the true meaning of this song.


So here it is....

Lyrics in black...my comments in red


Summer Breeze

See the curtains hangin' in the window, in the evenin' on a Friday night.
The curtains were there for a reason. Jim was growing marijuana in the back yard and had thousands of pot plants drying in every room of his house. The curtains were needed for the privacy that he needed to not draw attention from the law...or as he used to say to me, "the Man."

A little light a-shinin' through the window, lets me know everything is alright.
This is a reference to the motion sensitive spot lights that he had throughout the yard.

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
"Summer Breeze" was a euphemism for getting high on marijuana. Amateurs would say things like "wanna get high?"...or "got any weed?"...or so I'm told.

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
Jasmine was code amongst growers for marijuana.

See the paper layin' in the sidewalk, a little music from the house next door.
The paper was actually Zig Zags, commonly used in the trade to "roll joints"...or so I'm told


So I walked on up to the doorstep, through the screen and across the floor.
Being perpetually high, Jim would often forget to open the screen door, just walking through it instead. This added considerable cost to the operation.




Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
subliminal messaging
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
subliminal messaging

Sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom. July is dressed up and playing her tune.
Summer was the height of the harvest season. Unfortunately there was also a fair amount of product sampling during the harvest. Jim doesn't remember if July was just a misspelling of the name Julie (he vaguely remembers a Julie being around then), or if he was going for a play on words,,,apparently pot affects your memory...or so I'm told.



And I come home from a hard day's work, and you're waiting there, not a care in the world.
Not having a care in the world was obviously another side affect.



See the smile a-waitin' in the kitchen, food cookin' and the plates for two.



See the arms that reach out to hold me, in the evening when the day is through.
Unfortunately the story has a sad ending. The arms that reached out to hold him actually is a reference to the police waiting for him at home to handcuff him. To this day he doesn't know if it was "July" that ratted him out....or possibly the new sign he put out in the front yard.

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
Is it working yet?
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
Do you have this sudden need to go to the closest 7-11 and pop a burrito into the microwave?
_______________________________________________________________________________


So that's the true story behind the lyrics to Summer Breeze. Who knew that such a seemingly innocent ode to Summer had such a dark side to it.

By the way, Jim was completely drug free the Summer that he coached us. I'm not so sure about his two assistant coaches though...


Have a nice (drug free) day.....

Say what ?

Oh, and just a point of clarification here...I started writing this blog yesterday, but was not happy with the lack of creative juices flowing, so I put it on the shelf and am just coming back to it now. Sometimes you're just not on your game.



Remember this one? My wife and I once saw a spitting image of the bee girl. We were parked in our car eating ice cream cones at Garsides in Saco. Why the need to go to Saco for an ice cream escapes me, but that's where we were. Anyway, I pointed out the bee girl, and God, did we laugh. Pee your pants, can't catch your breath, ice cream melting over your fingers kind of laughing. Nothing needed to be said, no words needed, it was just there.

Which gets me thinking, how many conversations do we have in a day?...I don't mean emails, or facebook posts, or even phone calls, I'm talking honest to goodness conversations. Two or more people engaged in direct face to face communication....and how many of these do we actually remember (we meaning me). If you recall, I don't have the greatest memory. Here's a reminder...

http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/11/sometimes-ino-i-dont.html

My first conversation of the day was between me and my next door neighbor. I was half heartedly pushing a shovel around the cars in my driveway after  the snowfall the prior night. Lo and behold I see this figure pushing his snowblower along the sidewalk.





(This isn't an actual photo of the event, my neighbor doesn't have a beard).
Just like the knight in shining armor, or the cowboy dressed in white, or Leonardo Dicaprio in Titanic..He had come to my rescue. He shuts the machine off, we have a nice conversation, and I'm able to pull both cars out into the street and then drive away. Leaving him behind to finish off the driveway. I'm off to a good start in the conversation department.

Then there was the interesting conversation that I was involved in when I first got to work. It involved the highway just outside of Albany New York, an illegal u turn, a mystery appearance by a cop, the cop playing chicken with the guy that did the u turn, then the cop hitting his blue lights and going after someone else. It was a great story when I first heard it at 8:00 AM. It was a little less interesting when I heard it retold at 8:30. I was bored with it when I heard it again at 9:30. I started to visually re enact it for others when it was told for the fourth time at 11:00. Whenever he would talk about his role in the story I started to act like a chimpanzee and when he told the parts about the cop I would act out the samurai delicatessen scene from the old Saturday Night Lives. When I heard it again at lunch , me and three others (who had also heard the story repeatedly) pulled him out of the cafeteria by his tightie whities, threw him out of a third story window, went down and collected his body, and stuffed it in the trunk of a stolen car...which we then drove off the Casco Bay Bridge. Do you think he got the point?


I hope he had good insurance.

Then the floodgates opened ....nine conversations about things I was so done with at work...eight about the weather...seven about things I wasn't paying attention to...six about a sitcom that I have never seen, and am not even sure if it truly exists...five about children of coworkers (two of which I didn't even know had kids...and one that I'm not even sure that I knew the person that I was talking to)...four more about the weather...three about pets (one dog, one fish, and one chicken, yes, chicken)..two about sick family members..and one about Ted Nugent. I could feel my blood pressure starting to climb.




You know what? At that point I was ready to give in. Chalk one up in the "them" column in the "us vs. them" game. Was it just me? So you know what I did? I went and visited my Mother.

...and I talked to my Mom about work, and the weather (twice), and about not paying attention, and sitcoms I had never seen, other peoples kids, pets, sick family members, and yes, even Ted Nugent. How did this make me feel? You already know the answer...great.

That made me realize how much I love my Mom.

...and I work with some CRAZY mofo's.

Enjoy January.

C'mon, I was only ten years old

1974
This was my life....mostly in pictures.
(as best I can remember, so no fact checking needed)
This is how I rolled...my Mom's Dodge Challenger


I remember driving in this car when we heard on the radio (my Mom always had the radio on - but more on that later) that Mama Cass had died.(Disclaimer for those of you under 30...Mama Cass was a singer in the band the Mamas and the Papas...you should know about them, and if you don't, shame on you). We were driving in town Portland, I'm even going to say it was driving up Casco Street or Brown Street heading towards Congress Street....because stuff used to be on Casco and Brown Streets in 1974. After Mom got rid of this muscle car she went with a Plymouth Volare'. Oh, and it was a station wagon. tsk tsk tsk.

My primary means of transportation in '74 was something like this...




That's right, A Schwinn Sting Ray....and yes, it was yellow. Somewhere there's an awesome picture of me straddling my bike in my driveway wearing a matching yellow wind breaker. Probably getting ready to ride down to "the Park", which would be the Sunset Park ballfields at the end of New York Ave in South Portland Maine. I might have been on my way to hit my infamous little league tryouts home run that I've referenced in the past...and probably will again sometime in the future.
For anyone that wants to reminisce with me, here it is...
http://pompatusofpete.blogspot.com/2011/10/strolling-kitties.html

Speaking of 1974 sports (which I just was), I think it was just the year before when my older brother broke it to me that the Harlem Globetrotters were not the world champions of basketball...so I decided to follow the Celtics. Coincidently that was the year that they won the NBA championship. Great team...John Havlicek, Dave Cowens, Paul Silas, and my favorite, Jo Jo White. Jo Jo White might have been overshadowed by some of the other stars (although he was an all star himself), I liked him because he seemed cool...and cool was everything to a ten year old.

Coincidentally , I think that's why Rico Petrocelli was my favorite Red Sox player..because he seemed cool. As an adult, I got to spend an entire day with Rico, basically just the two of us (don't recall if I've written about that one before, if not, I've got a feeling it will be coming), and you know what? He was cool.


1974.....
I was in fourth grade at Thornton Heights elementary school. Mr. Northrop was my teacher. Mr Northrop is now a friend of mine on Facebook.




...That's it in the background...couldn't find a decent older photo of it. The library was in the basement...there was no gym...it had a dirt baseball field..and I loved it. 1974 would have been the first time we had a basketball team at school. You see Thornton Heights only went up to fourth grade, and then you went to Skillin for two years, before moving on to junior high. Don't ask me why, that's just the way it was. The point of that prior sentence was so I could point out, our 4th grade basketball team was playing the 4th, 5th, and 6th grade teams of the other elementary schools in town, and the scrappers from the west side of the city held their own. Back in the day South Portland had nine or ten elementary schools. I still remember some of my teammates...Joe McHugh -great athlete, Scott Merrill- fastest kid I ever saw (demonstrated in later years by getting chased by the police through the woods at innumerable keg parties), Rick Russell - who broke his arm the next year at Skillin playing buck buck on the teeter totter during recess, Tom Lee - who lived across the street from the school and had the nicest Mom, John McQuinn - strongest kid that ever attended 4th grade(anywhere...ever), Elliot Chamberlain - who now builds "great neighborhoods" here in Maine, Peter Flynn and Tod Douglass - unfortunately neither of which are still with us, and me. My coach (Joe McHugh's Dad...who you can still see ushering at Sea Dogs games in the Summer) gave me the moniker "The Gentle Giant". Not exactly what a 4th grade kid wants to be called, but unfortunately, it was pretty accurate...and my Mom liked it


1974.....1974

1974 was around the time I started getting interested in music. Like I said earlier, my Mom always had the radio on...I had older brothers and an older sister that were listening to the best music of the time. Unfortunately we were listening to it on something like this..


But hey, it was portable.

That music takes me back to times when we'd play outside until the lights came on....to when we'd go sledding up to "the Pits" in the Winter...when we'd build forts out in the woods....when we used to ride in the back of station wagons....eating lunch at A&W....playing Indian Ball down at the Park...having slot car races...banging my knuckles playing with clackers (remember those?)


So close your eyes (or don't) and maybe this will bring you back to 1974 (posting this was actually the whole point of writing about 1974...and it only took me about a thousand words to get here)

Oh, and by the way, Mikey from those Life cereal commercials did not die from eating pop rocks after drinking a Coke...at least, I don't think he did.

That ship has...now, what's the best way to say it..oh, I know, sailed

I once saw Bachman Turner Overdive in concert...not what I expected...they were all out of shape (not that it really matters), but they actually looked kind of slovenly. I remember Randy Bachman was wearing overalls and looked a bit like Haystacks Calhoun (a wrestler from the "golden days" of wrestling...well, at least the wrestling I remember watching on Saturdays before Creature Double Feature would come on).

That, by the way, is Haystacks Calhoun....not Creature Double Feature

Sort of like the time I saw Foghat. Not knowing any better I wanted to see this guy...

...but this was the Foghat I saw....

Well, not quite that bad..but I couldn't find an image of the red one piece jumpsuit that the guy from Foghat was wearing. Really...it was red...and it was a jumpsuit....and it was one piece. It actually looked like a character that Will Ferrell would have done in a sketch, only this predated Will Ferrell by about fifteen years, and it was real. Can anyone say Spinal Tap?

This blog was supposed to be about me missing out on another great business opportunity (hence the title). I usually put a video in the blogs of mine...and though I really wanted to post Maria Muldaur doing Midnight at the Oasis, it didn't fit the theme, which is the point of those clips in the first place. I'll find another time to post that one. So then I landed on BTO doing Taking Care of Business, but now I don't feel like that one either.

Anyway this business opportunity wasn't like some of the others that I had thought of but didn't follow through on...thankfully. None of those would have worked. This one would have.
Some of the others were in the vein of...

• My shipping/mailing company I was going to call Big Man's Package
• The lumber store that was only going to be open from 5 - 11 AM called Morning Wood
• Or the hardware store that just sold nails, but I wanted it to be first in the yellow pages so I called it Anails
• or the tow truck business, which I thought would be clever to have a camel on the side of the truck...sort of like if you're stranded in the desert all you'd need is a camel to get you out. I thought Camel Tows had a better ring to it than other people
• the well digging company I called boring deep holes
• or the specialty shop that I was going to open with my friends Mike and Scott that we'd only open for a few days a month. We were going to call it the PMS store

Then there was always Scratch Pete's Fresh Nuts, but Bob still doesn't want to put up the damn sign

So, I can't come up with a business clip...but I can come up with something that aligns with the title of this sorry blog...

...so I'd like to know where you got the notion

smell this...does this smell funny to you?

I saw the dead tree truck today. Let me clarify...If you have a real Christmas tree, they don't last forever (unless, of course, you have a real real Christmas tree), after the holiday (usually Christmas or New Years...or if your extremely lazy and feel the need to have a six foot pile of dry kindling in your living room, I guess you could extend it to Martin Luther's King Jr's birthday or if you have an unnatural love of arson, Valentine's Day) you take your tree out, and at least in my town, you put it on the sidewalk to be picked up by the city. That's the truck I saw, the city discarded dead Christmas tree truck. It reminded me of that scene from Monty Pythons the Holy Grail where Eric Idle is collecting the dead in a wagon that is being pulled through he streets.
here's the scene

...for those of you that don't bother watching the clips I always put on here (it's ok, you can admit it, I know there's a few of you...but you are missing out)...the humor of the clip is someone trying to put an old man on the pile that isn't dead yet all the while insisting "I'm not dead" and "I feel better" and "Can I go for a walk" and other non dead or dieing type things.

That's what the Christmas truck reminded me of.

...and that got me thinking of other things that are obsolete...or outdated...or no longer useful.

Such as,
Combo dvd and vcr players.

I don't even know if I have a vcr in my house that works anymore, but I probably have about a hundred "tapes". These combo players were once cutting edge, well at least for those of us that wanted to embrace this "new digital dvd technology" but were dumb enough to think that the vhs tape wouldn't go the same way as 8 tracks or then cassettes and then even albums (although I have to admit, I still do love my albums - but that's another story for another time). Christ, we're not far from dvd's being irrelevant as well. The dvd/vhs combo reminds me of my first stereo that had not only an AM/FM tuner and a turntable, but also an 8 track player...not even a cassette player...and 8 track player. Always loved how Smoke on the Water abruptly stopped at the end of track one and then, after much clunking and shifting, would restart in that spot on the next track. How come it didn't sound like that in concert?


Polaroid Instant Cameras
Remember these? You'd take your picture, then, vvvvt, the camera would eject this blank sheet of film that in a matter of minutes would miraculously appear as your photo right before your eyes. Amazing! Everybody had instant cameras, but not everyone had the Handle. I got the Handle one Christmas...I say around '77 or '78. I remember taking pictures of the albums I got for Christmas that year...I remember taking pictures of my dog Duke....I remember having pictures taken of me, usually wearing some sort of long sleeved striped rugby shirt with the sleeves pushed up my forearm (which was cool) or me in my Miami Dolphins pajamas (which was not cool). Good stuff.
I think one of the reasons the Handle may not have caught on was , picture quality aside, it weighed about seventeen pounds, although it did come with a nice nylon strap so you could wear it around you neck if you desired...or if you desperately wanted some sort of neck injury. That and the fact that you had to turn a crank to get the picture to pop out. Even in 1977 that was obsolete.

Polaroid pictures, or at least the reference of polaroid pictures made a comeback a few years ago because of that Outkast song "Hey Ya". The line was "Shake it like a polaroid picture" and all of a sudden those millions of kids that made this a number one song got a history lesson of what photography for the common man was like prior to digital. It became part of our vernacular again. That's right vernacular.

But speaking of digital...that will soon be obsolete as well.
Check this out.   http://www.lytro.com/   Essentially this camera allows you to manipulate the picture after you take it. You know how pictures get ruined when you focus or include the wrong image in the foreground or background? The Lytro lets you move the focus off that object after you've taken the picture. You can switch a photo from 2D to 3D, change the perspective, or do whatever else you want to do to the image. This isn't Photoshop changes to an already taken picture. With the Lytro the photo is alive inside your camera.

This is Jetson's stuff we're talking about here...this is Star Wars...this is 2012. Wait, actually this is 2012.

Phone Booths
This struck me last year. We were in Epcot, in the World showcase, England specifically. We were taking pictures of my youngest standing inside a replica of an old red phone booth...like they used to have in London.




I realized it wasn't the quaint look of the red booth that intrigued her...it was the fact that there used to be these monoliths erected outside where you used to have to enter into, and you used to have to close the door (for privacy), and you used to have to pay money, and speak into a receiver (it is called the receiver, isn't it?) that was attached to a cord that was attached to the phone.
Ain't that a kick in the ass?


That Tupperware container in the back of my fridge
No explanation needed on that one


The point of this blog
I think I've "jumped the shark" on this one.
Google it.


Peace.

Take five

Here's the plan...you click on the video, take a few seconds to soak up the cool vibes, then read the rest of this post. Let's see how the timing works.

Ready?  Go.

A new year is almost upon us. It's a time when people make resolutions. Oh, and then break them. I guess it makes sense to do it at the beginning of the year versus, let's say March 5th, for instance. Fresh year, fresh start. I get it. The problem with these resolutions is that most often they are destined for failure. Who actually keeps these resolutions? Seems like the perfect way to start the year off on a bad note actually...the pressure of committing to something you're not really that committed to in the first place. Destined to failure on the first day of the year. Wouldn't it be better to make , say, 52 mini resolutions a year? Achievable resolutions, maybe even made up on the spot. Here's some examples....

I won't run that red light.


I'll put gas in my car before I run out.

I'll feed the cat.

I'll comb my hair.

But that's not how it works. So here's my take at some new years resolutions that I think may be achievable. Plus, these are so underwhelming that if you break one, no big deal. Feel free to use them for your own if you want to. I won't mind. Really. I won't.

(Are you still listening to Take Five? I'm not going to hold up my end of the bargain if you're not yours. Now go back, start the video again, and reread from the beginning).

2012 Resolutions
Volunteer more.
   Aim low on this one. I'm not talking blood drives, or PTA, or soup kitchens. Instead try something like checking to see if your local Bakery needs someone to do "quality assurance", you know, a taste tester. I'm thinking of offering up my services this year to not just one, but two bakeries this year. I know, pretty ambitious, but you know what they say.."Go big or go home" or in this case.."Get big then go home". If that doesn't work then there's always couch tester.


I will not use lame abbreviations in anything I write
   I'm not talking about abbreviations like "etc."...or "St."...or "Mr. or Mrs."...or "YMCA". I'm talking about texting abbreviations. I'm talking about "jk" or "lol" or "lmao" or "gtg". On reason is because I'm not a 12 year old girl. Another reason is because I'm not a slacker. I don't think typing "kk" is any easier to type than "ok"...seriously that's how "kk" came about. It is apparently that much easier to hit one key twice than taking the extraordinary effort to actually move your finger diagonally that quarter inch to hit that "o" then the "k". Seriously...saving time for what? That takes lazy to a whole new level.


More drinking, fewer hangovers.
   This one is achievable. What I mean is drink for the enjoyment of the act and not for the outcome. Find some good beer, drink it for the pleasure, drink it slow, enjoy it. Then stop. I see myself with a steady intake of alcohol this way. Doctors even recommend it. It will give me something encouraging to say at my next check up.
Doctor, "So, what have you been doing to take better care of yourself this year?"

Me, "Well, I drink everyday now."

Same with wine. Search out some great wine and food pairings. Attend some wine tastings. Sip, swish, and spit....or, since I'm an amateur, I'm going to replace spit with swallow. At least until I get the hang of it.

Watch less television

    Well, that's watch less television in standard definition. I'm plan on going HD only in 2012. Oh, and big screen as well. I'm tired of wasting my time on my 24 incher. Oh, and absolutely nothing in black and white. That's so yesteryear.

Keep at this blog.
   If you keep reading, I'll keep writing.


..and remember ...A New Years resolution is something that goes in one year and out the other.

TTFN
(See, I just broke one. I feel better already)

Peace and love to all in 2012.
   

Who's the guy that writes those books?

 Christmas Eve Eve...everybody's talking about Christmas. Everybody that is, except me. Not this time. Not now. I've done that. Let's talk about something else.
Baseball or more specifically, the Red Sox...or more specifically, Opening Day...or more specifically. Opening Day 1998.
This was from 1998 (taken from "the bathroom sessions")

See, I used to have a tradition, and I'd have to say it was a good one. Me and a group of buddies (that changed throughout the years, but that's not important) always made a point of going to the home opener of the Red Sox...always...every year...until I stopped. Seventeen straight...1992 - 2009. Yes, that's games, but it's also years. It stopped due to a rain out and my inability to reschedule around work for the following day. Then last year, I just didn't have the gumption...I think because the streak had already been broken.

(This , by the way, was going to be the tattoo I was going to get if the Red Sox ever won a world series in my lifetime...an idea definitely hatched at one of these opening days with my good buddy John. As a matter of fact the first phone call I got after the Sox did win that first championship was from John, within minutes of the win, that went something like this..
John, "You know that whole tattoo thing?" "I'm cool if you don't want to do that anymore".
That and another championship later, we're both still tattoo-less).

So, anyway, back to that Opening day...the year before was bad...we got some good players in the off season (Pedro Martinez' first year) and ended up in the playoffs at the end of the season. but all that's irrelevant. This is what I remember about that Opening Day (bulletized)

• It was against the Seattle Mariners
• It was my best chance -ever- to catch a foul ball hit into the stands. We're sitting in the left field box seats..there's a left handed batter up (don't recall who) he hits a line drive that veers into the seats...coming my way...I'm tracking the ball...it is coming DIRECTLY to me...I stand up...put out both hands...THIS IS MINE...the ball is literally three feet in front of me...when my friend (Dave) just to my left, reaches across with his left hand (because he is holding a beer in his right)...(to demonstrate, please take your left arm, reach across your body, and imagine catching a ball to the right of you. You have to turn your hand over, right? You can't catch anything that way, right? Right!)...and stops the ball inches from my hand. That was stops, not catches. Ball falls underneath the seat in front of me and the guy sitting there picks it up and goes nuts. There is probably video of that guy celebrating getting his (my) foul ball with me hollering at Dave in the background. So close.
• Randy Johnson was pitching against us (us being the Red Sox, not me and my friends). The game is not close.
• About the fourth inning Dave sees Stephen King sitting about ten rows in front of us. He turns to me and says, "Peter, who's that guy that writes all those books?" Me, not being able to answer a question with no logical answer says nothing. My other buddy, John (remember him?), decides to though and he says to Dave, "Tom Clancy?" Dave says, "Yeah, that's him". At which point he starts heckling Stephen King. "Hey Tom Clancy!"... "Hey Clancy".."Hey Tom Clancy, you can't write a nightmare as bad as this!"..."Hey Tom Clancy!"...and so forth and so on. Dave keeps it up until Stephen King stands, turns around and waves to Dave. That's all he was looking for.

• We strike up a friendship with a group of people from Seattle that are sitting behind us. We spend the next few innings having some fun banter with them. Game is not going well.
• About the seventh inning Stephen King leaves the game. Dave hollers out to him. "Clancy's a fair weather fan", "Clancy's a quitter". "Go back to Maine, Clancy, where you belong" and other such vulgarities
• So, bottom of the 9th inning Randy Johnson has mowed us down. Literally. Two hits, two runs, and fifteen strikeouts. Randy Johnson was a badass back then. Never more than this game. Randy Johnson was such a badass that he once killed a bird with a pitch during a game. Here it is...

• Then the impossible happens....Randy Johnson doesn't come out to pitch the 9th inning. We are losing 7-2. Who comes trotting out? Heathcliff Slocumb. You read that right...Heathcliff Slocumb. Really. Heathcliff. Heathcliff Slocumb used to pitch for the Red Sox, but the year prior we traded him to these Seattle Mariners for a young catcher named Jason Varitek. We got the better of the deal. Dave says to me, "Peter, we're going to win this game. Stephen King is listening to this game and is wishing he wasn't in Portsmouth by now. I bet he wishes he could turn around and come back". Dave turns around and says to our friends from Seattle, "You just lost the game". Then Dave starts in on Heathcliff..."You're a bum", "Welcome back to Fenway you bum!", and lets not forget "Sloooocumb...Slooocumb...Slooocumb" (Dave opted to not go for the easier target of Heathcliff - first class hecklers know these kind of things), and so forth and so on. Slocumb gives up a few hits...a few runs...walks a batter...and gets no one out. He get pulled out of the game. Score is now 7-5. Another pitcher comes in and walks a batter. He gets pulled. Two runners on and no outs. Another pitcher. Gives up a hit. He comes out. Bases loaded...no outs...Fenway Park is going berserk. New pitcher. Mo Vaughn steps up to the plate. Mo Vaughn was a big (BIG) first baseman with a big swing. - As an aside - I once had a chance to stand up and ask Nomar Garciaparra one question in a roomful of about 300 people. I asked him who he thought would win in a hot dog eating contest, Mo Vaughn or Big Papi? He smiled and said he didn't know, but he would pay money to see it happen. - Back to the game...Mo Vaughn steps up to the plate....bases loaded....no outs...gets one pitch...takes a mighty swing...and POW...Grand Slam. Red Sox win 9-7. Crowd goes nuts, everyone's getting and giving high fives (even our friends from Seattle), and I'm hoarse for three days. End of story.

• To prove it happened, here's the box score...http://www.baseball-almanac.com/box-scores/boxscore.php?boxid=199804100BOS

Except for this. The next year, at opening Day, same cast of characters. Dave sees Stephen King down in front of us again. Dave hollers, "Hey Clancy, you leaving in the seventh inning today?"

Stephen King turns around, takes off his cap, and tips it to Dave.

Now it's the end of the story.