Tons o'fun on 81

Last Friday, I left work and hit the road bound for Cana, Virginia, the stayover for my trek to Syracuse, NY.

With the Thule on top and an ipod full of podcasts and audio books (the free - ie., boring- ones), the mighty Odyssey finished the first leg without event and I stayed in a friend's guesthouse right near the VA-NC border.

The next day was a 10 hour romp through Virginia and PA entertained by Weird Al, Adam Corolla, and the CarTalk guys then I met up with my family poolside in Upstate and Team Keough was whole once again.

For I have not become Death, destroyer of worlds

Well, I was going to describe in intricate detail the suffering of the little guys in their hotbox of doom and my strange feelings of guilt... I mean, I don't care about spraying poison but for some reason, frying them in their home under the hot sun just got to me a little... I was even going to bring up comparisons to a Stephen King book I just finished in which a town is trapped under a mysterious, impenetratable dome.

But they managed to find a way out... the bastards!

Genesis 19:25

Two weeks ago while Erin and I were watering the plants over by the side of the house, we found ourselves surrounded by hornets. We ran off but both of us got stung... just once each though. No big deal but Eirn was a little shook up for a while... especially since she ended up carrying the squashed body of her assailant in her shirt into the house.

It turned out there was an underground yellowjacket nest where we were watering and when the jet from the hose was directly hitting their entrance, they took offence. Normally, I let the fauna have the lawn and the wild area. As long as it's a few feet from the house, it's free range. Once I found a snake and since it wasn't poisonous, I wanted to leave it but it was a big'un plus I had a baby daughter at the time so I caught it and put it a wooded lot across the street.

However, this was a high traffic area and right next to the area with the rocks that Finn likes to play in with his tractors. Last time I had a yellowjacket nest, I poured some gas down in it and they left... or died, I can't remember which. And this is what everything on the web said.

But 1) I don't like pouring gas on the ground, and 2) this was in a mulched area with decorative plants and I didn't want to kill them with gas. So I waited until night when all good wasps retire to their home and sprayed in a bunch of insect spray... and took off. I repeated this again the following night but with no results. The little guys (gals?) were happily buzzin' away.

Note I've never been freaked out by bees or wasps. They can practically land on me and I'll brush them off lightly but usually I pay them no mind and they do likewise. The denizens of this particular nest were the same..... but I was not going to have Finn come running in the house one day covered by stinging yellowjackets. The missus would not be pleased....

I had seen a single post online about putting a glass bowl over the entrance. Normally, according to the post, an obstruction would cause the yellowjackets to dig their way out but if it was a clear one, the "dig" command was not prompted and they would just keep trying to fly through.... until the nest died of thirst.

For some reason, squashing and even poisoning bugs doesn't bother me. I only do it whan I need to put it doesn't bother me at all. But this, this drawn-out torture did not appeal to me at all. But I did it.

To be continued

D'oh!!!!!

I cannot believe I've had this blog for more than 4 years and only now do I notice that I spelled "nauseum" wrong.

Goddamn.

Place du tertre

But on a positive note, I'm managing to feed myself... woo hoo!

Last night I made a vat of spaghetti and had it for lunch today, I will have it for lunch tomorrow, and maybe even Friday. Along with some of the giant cantaloupe Kerry bought Sunday and whatever I cut up of the watermelon quarter the neighbor gave me for helping him with his goddamn m-f'in grill. Plus I threw a bunch of sliced tomatoes into the sauce... another neighbor gave us a bag of tomatoes from his garden. Friendly neighbors hereabouts.

And tonight, along with the pale ale, I had this.

Pork chops with some cajun spice rub from a BBQ place in upstate NY I mentioned before. And tomatoes of course.

Pretty darn tasty if I must say.

Stompin' at the Savoy

Yes, yes it's nice being able to do what I want to do when I want to. It's nice putting something down and it still is there hours later instead of either being out in the yard or covered up with a painting of a horse.

But did my temporary pseudo-bachelordom start out all wine and roses? Nope... it started out in pain.

About every two years, my back gets thrown out. Now the first thing everyone says when they see me limping around like Methusalah with a hernia wincing at each step is "What did you do?" but the thing is is that it really doesn't have to be much at all. Last time was a box of books which is understandable. Once it was helping a guy push his car... also understandable. But I've done it picking up a stick in the front yard. And this time was just helping the neighbor get a fairly light grill off the back of his truck... at least that's what I think it was... it could've been anything.

So yesterday sucked and did today start off any better? No... it started out worse. I woke up at 5:30 this morniong and could barely move. With excruciating pain, I managed to get out of the bed and crawl to the kitchen to get some iboprofen - why do we keep these high up in a cabinet instead of on the floor? Then sent an email to my cow-orkers that I wasn't coming in.

But a few hours later I was at work.

Anyway after seeing that post linked to above about the Backout of 2008 I guess I have a few more days to look forward to which ain't a good thing since I've got the lawns of two homes to mow... mine and my in-law's new place nearby.

Joy.

Birk's Works

Yesterday at 6:30am, Kerry and the kids along with the in-laws piled into a minivan and took off for Syracuse leaving me to fend for myself for a week and a half.

Oh the agony.

I'm not going to pretend that I'm sad and miss them terribly... oh I will very soon but do I miss a screaming, whining toddler with a dripping, snotty cold who can't figure out what he wants and is royally pissed off that his parents can't either during the first few days that he's gone? Hell no.

Do I miss my wonderful wife who has been the one primarily dealing with said snottling while at the same time planning this trip and getting EVERYTHING ready and packed for it so has been understandably snappy at her hubby? Again, of course I will very, very soon but in the first few days of blissful peace? Not really.

Do I miss my crazy, laughing-endlessly older younguns, one of which can sit in her bed for 3 hours straight reading, the other who can spend an hour fine-tuning the gear ratio on a rope walking Lego contraption and another two on a domino trail, both of which will complain for hours about picking up a few clothes in their rooms? Well, yes.... a little bit.

Likely tomorrow evening though.... when I walk into a dark quiet house for the third night in a row and sleep alone once again with no one to chat with and no snoring tyke between us.... I'll be a-missin'em strong.

But for now, as I sit in a nice dark and peaceful house, the jazz station crooning and grooving uninterrupted for 3 hours, and my 2nd tall, cold glass of pale ale next to the monitor.... with time to think on what I'm typing and not having to run off and change a diaper or start Thomas and the Special Letter over yet again or get the runaround bunch to bed.... things are pretty cool, Daddy-O.

No really... your shirt's ON FIRE!

You can't beat a good roman candle fight.

Once, in college, my roomates and I were running around the front yard... probably on the 4th of July but who knows, it could've been freakin' Arbor Day for all it really mattered to us... anyway, we were lighting off roman candles. I'm not sure who had the bright idea to hold onto the things and shoot at each other (Sheer genius, I say!) but that's what we started doing. At one point, I was right behind Matt, fireballs firing. He ran into our apartment thinking he was getting away but, of course, I followed him in blazing away and we ended up with two souvenirs in the form of permanent molten black scars, one on the countertop and one in the floor.

When things had calmed down we were walking back inside and we noticed a small glowing orange-ringed hole slowly widening on the back of Matt's shirt.

Uhhh... Matt, your shirt's on fire.

Yeah... ha ha...

I've got a 12-sided die

Liam is in a Lego Mindstorms camp this week. We had him skip the intro camp and put him in the 2nd level one since he's had one for a few years. First off, although summer "camp" brings up images of lakeside cabins and pimply counselors, for Liam and Erin's age this is typically a week-long sports or learning class. There are many, many different camps from chess camp to mountain biking camp to guitar camp..... there's probably a video game camp or a High School Musical camp. In fact, I guarantee both those exist in NW Atlanta without even bothering to Google.

Anyway, to give an indication of what type of kid Liam's likely going to be a) he completely loves it, and b) the other day he came home all excited with the announcement that the instructor was going to give each kid their own USB flash drive at the end of the week so they could keep their programs.

However, I'm starting to reconsider our general disdain for video games. Every once in a while, I'll show the kids some random game on the computer... usually something very basic. Now I pretty much gave up games after college - hmmm, I figured I had blogged about this but apparently not.... something for the future - let's just say it involves the morning sun peeking in the windows and me creating a Doom level based on my apartment at the time... Anyway, I haven't really played games seriously for over 15 years and I can still easily beat my 9-year old son.

That ain't right.

The horror

Last night, Liam and I were shooting Nerf guns at each other in the backyard when we noticed a little bird fluttering around. Of course, we couldn't stop trying to kill (ie., two hits) each other for that so Erin ran over and realized it was a baby bird that apparently had fallen from it's nest. It was scared and was hiding under an old toy kitchen set that I had put under the deck a year or so ago to await it's eventual dump run.

I quickly dispensed with my foe who was spending more time picking up bullets than he was dealing with me - a deadly error - and shuffled the kids inside so that hopefully the momma bird would rescue the chick. That happens, right?

Excitedly, Erin ran around collecting bits of cloth, grass, and sticks in a shoebox to make a home for what she dearly hoped would be her soon-to-be patient. I told her not to go out back and disturb the situation as we wanted the momma bird to get her baby back, right? Of course, Erin didn't want this to happen... she wanted to take care of the chick. But she agreed that it would be better for the bird.

So we cleaned up and ate dinner (ironically, it was rotisserie chicken). After, Erin went out to check on the bird. A few moments of quiet ensued followed by a sudden blast of a bawl... a very loud, heart-wrenching wail! She came back in screaming about something having killed and eaten the baby chick and then I realized what had happened.

A little over a week ago, I found the remains of a dead rodent of some sort in a remote area of our back yard... actually, I had stepped with a bare foot into a particularly squishy part of said remains which even as I write this sends a disgusted shiver through me. After the ants and bugs had removed most of the "icky bits" I gingerly picked up the skull with a stick and put in a spot that gets a fair amount of direct sun so it would dry out but not be very conspicuous.

This spot happened to be at the edge of the deck right next to where the bird had cloistered itself where Erin jhad, to her horrow, discovered it assuming it was the freshly-slayed head of her desired pet baby bird.

After I quickly explained the situation, she was fairly easily consoled. The bad news was she ddidn't get a pet but at least it was ssafe and happy with it's mother.... or so I hope!

Piledriver

First off, I'm not taking a hiatus... I just have to get a few things done on the computer at home for the next week or so and that's gonna take up my freetime but I'll try to get in a little... maybe post about last weekend's latest camping fiasco where I decided to stand in the pouring rain for a few hours rather than get in that kid-crazy tent.

Speaking of freetime, Finn is taking up quite a bit of it. He is at that age where he doesn't do anything you say and he never wants to sleep so he's screaming half the time. Unfortunately, even if he had some comprehension of time-out, we have no real place to put him like we did with the other kids. Plus I usually play with him when I get home to give Kerry a break and with my efforts to jog in the morning because of the summer heat, I've got to get in bed by around 10 if I want a halfway decent night's sleep... which doesn't happen much...

By the way, he's "talking" a lot and doing the parrot thing. He hasn't quite mastered jumping other than on the bed. He's a pretty physical little guy and gets a kick out of me shoving him in the chest with one hand and knocking his legs out from under him with the other when he's on the bed. This hurls him flat on his back giggling, ready for another slam, and mad when I stop.

Das Commute

I had planned on leaving at 4:30 so I could get home around 6 but, nope, things came up.... especially with a customer in China... that made it where I didn't get going until after 5:30. The thing with China, by the way, is that in the morning when I get some questions from that side of the world, I usually put off answering them until later and focus on the European crap... since they still might get back to me before noon my time. China, on the other hand, won't be checking their emails until later on in the evening... except for a few guys that keep going until midnight over there.

But I digest - errrrp - so I called Kerry to let her know I was hitting the road, put my phone in my backpack, put on my sunglasses, and started off. Only while I was adjusting my rearview mirror - the one that clips to my sunglasses - the little plastic piece-of-shit bracket on it broke. It's late and I want to get going so a huge part of me wants to say "oh well, make do and get going" but I reeeeeally like having the rearview.

When I'm biking along a road with a lousy shoulder, especially going fast on a downhill, I can stay in the road and keep an eye behind me. If a car is coming, I hug that edge until it goes by. I can see big trucks coming. When I enter a right-hand turn lane, I can glance back (while still keeping my main focus in front) and see if anyone's entering. The right-hand turning lanes are a big deal riding in suburbia... do I hug the right then slow before they turn or do I stay in the middle in traffic?

So I hitched my star to the rearview and called up a friend that I was pretty sure was still at work inside. We tried cable-ties and twisty wire-wraps but what ended up working (20 minutes later) was good ol'black electrical tape... the duct tape of the spark chaser set. Finally, I jumped the tracks next to the parking lot and headed off.

A half-hour later, my worries were confirmed.... the 15 mile ride home was NOT going to be the brisk, exciting ride of the morning, it was to be a grueling slog on the side of the road in 90 degree sweltering heat.

In addition to being during a cool, sparkling morning, the ride in was also primarily downhill. Given that the Gwinnett county schools were closed and I suppose people were taking off early for the holiday, traffic was light and the mood was reminiscent
of the moment in the cartoon where Cinderella throws open the shutters amidst chortling bluebirds and happy chipmunks. The dew was glistening on the cowslip and there was an eager sharpness in the air, a feeling of "go get'em, tiger"! And there I was, speeding down 141, scoffing at the lowly drivers enslaved within their clunky chariots. I got to the office in 1 hour and 15 minutes, energized and rarin' to go...

But the ride home was another matter entirely... first off, traffic was a mess. Now, in general, the more traffic the better for riding home. One, you don't gave to worry so much about those right turning lanes or getting amongst the cars in general... everyone's going slow. Two, it's a huge boost for me to "beat" the cars.... passing the Hummer with GO BULLDOGS or the Lexus with FUCKNUT ACADEMY never gets old.

But when it's hot, you're riding uphill, and you are not used to riding AGAIN after doing 15 miles in the morning, there is something very taxing about riding endlessly next to a mass of car that is draining. And, God forbid, I stop and take a break on the side of the road. You have to stay standing and look sharp soldier! Three seconds after you decide to sit and and maybe call home and check in, some car is stopping in the middle of the road and the guy is asking "You ok? Did you wreck?" Yeah, I know I should be glad but I swear it happens the SECOND I sit down. I'll have my phone in hand and my bike well out of the road. I'm not sprawled in the gutter wrapped up in my bike, bloody and the wheels still spinning. And yet, they stop like they're forest rangers or the goddamn Peace Corps. "You ok, buddy?"

I'll reallly hate myself when I actually DO wreck.

The whole trip is basically uphill but for the last two, there's no "basically" about it. It's a serious uphill.

So I take to the sidewalks becoming a biker Uncle Tom. I never see bikers on the sidewalks. They claim their portion of the road with confidence and self-righteousness. Anyone who would ride on the sidewalk is basically saying bicyclists don't have the right to ride on the road. But I do... sometimes I ride on the sidewalks.

Ok... when the fact comes up that I ride a bike through the suburban streets, a lot of people say that bikers should stick to the sidewalks. First off, I'm pretty sure it's illegal. I don't think any cop would enforce it but sidewalks are for pedestrians. A person on a bike is a wide object and, especially when barreling along downhill, has no business on the same path as joggers, walkers, and moms with strollers. Second, sidewalks are hardly continuos... especially in the suburbs. They stop and start willy-nilly and a biker jumping off the curb into the road is a lot more likely to get hit by a car than a biker cruising along steadily at the side of the road.

But when I'm plodding along on my mountain bike, tired and slow uphill... and there's a sidewalk along side.... instead of sitting in the road, skirting the gutter, dodging sewer drains and dead possums and getting slammed every ten seconds by the wind of a passing SUV, I'm getting on that goddamn sidewalk.

The Challenge

Last Sunday, Liam and I went mountain biking on the trail at Central Park off 400. Last month, we got Liam a new bike, a black and red 24" Novara Tractor from REI. He was getting a little big for his old one plus he was getting into trail riding and the lack of shocks, handbrakes, and especially gears for the uphills was holding him back some.

This was his first time on the trail with his new bike. One or two little spills but he did pretty well. I have completely lost my balls in regards to anything remotely sketchy.... mostly I'm talking about steep drop-offs even the short ones. Part of this is due I'm sure to my natural risk aversion nowadays but I think most of it is the fact that I no longer ride trails.

But I do ride a bit more than I did when I wrote this but mostly on roads. And mostly the same road.... 5 miles out and 5 back on a main road through a supercluster of developments with a few massive hills. I even bought a new bike.... a Cannondale F5 . All black except for a spot that looks like someone took to it with a dremel with the grinder bit. Which is why I got it for $200 off at the REI scratch and dent thing.

I used to ride to work a few times a year back when I was 5 miles from home but I've been saying for a while that I would do the 15 miles to my new office. I've left a set of clothes there for the next day and two weeks ago I even got all geared up and started riding but turned around after a 1/2 mile because it was foggy... it's dangerous enough on a clear day. And I need to do it before it starts being 110 degrees in the afternoon.

That's it, goshdoggit! I'm doing it next week!

Let it out!!!

I must pay my respects (whatever that means) to Ronnie James Dio who died last weekend. He headlined the first show I ever saw.... way back in 84 at the Orange Pavilion in San Bernadino, California. It was the Last In Line tour with Dokken (a classic cheeseball hair band).

Never followed him much after that but did enjoy his role as the Lord of Metal in this.

Wait a sec... he wasn't even in that. I guess I just assumed while glancing through it in the way that people read on-line that only Dio could be the head of the Supreme Metal Council in its majestic hall atop Vatnajökull, Iceland's largest glacier.

The Pet Colombian, Part 1

At one point in my college travels, I lived with a guy - I'll call him Matt - in a small apartment on White Ash Trail just south of UCF in Orlando, FL. Our total rent was probably less than $500 a month but dammit, that was too goddamn high so we decided to get a roommate.

Only trouble was we didn't have an extra room. So Matt dry-walled in the dining room. Note that there was one of those bars between the kitchen and the dining room that you could sit at and talk to people in the kitchen. Cut out two pieces of drywall, do a little shaping with a boxknife, slap that shit in there, and - wala - no more bar area and you've got a ready-to-move-in room with a chandelier hanging in the middle of it.

Roberto moved in and we quickly began adopting many of his sayings into our conversation.

"Ch'out, ch'out" (check it out, check it out) - Please notice that there is an attractive woman in our presence.
"Thankyaverymach" - I appreciate the fact that they are indeed very attractive.
"Ah som'beeetch" - something has come between me and my goal, or
my luck is not very good today.
"Viva l'America!" - I love the USA, typically sung while drunkenly excercising with barbells
"Ahhh Americans vedddy rude!!!!" - typically exclaimed as an expression of displeasure when another has created a gaseous
environment in your immediate area

Smokey Treats

I never really smoked cigarettes. I tried them in high school once or twice and I have a distinct memory of sitting on a curb with a cigarette... coughing and thinking "why am I doing this? Oh yeah... peer pressure" and I never tried them again. I'm not saying I never did anything since then because of peer pressure but I definitely remember smoking being something I actively decided not to do because of it. That, and the fact that my first taste of a cigarette was when I surreptitiously snuck a sip of one of my Dad's PBR's only to find he had had stubbed out a butt in it. Funny it didn't kill my taste for beer, huh?

I've always considered it basically a weakness in others and a pretty gross one at that. I dated girls who smoked but always thought of it as a negative.

Then I was going to go into the "but I like smoky bars" thing then remembered this. Same title and all.... Alzheimer's anyone?

Random

Pretty much the first song I remember thinking was my favorite was "Rock and Roll Fantasy". I've probably heard it at least 3 times a year since then but strangely I can never remember who the hell did the song. Todd Rundgren sticks in my head for some reason but I have no idea who that is either other than some guitar guy that I should know something about.

Wait a sec... maybe my first favorite song was Andy Gibb's "Blood is Thicker than Water". Yup... that was on the bus on my way to 5th grade my first year in California.

And then there were two...

A week or so ago, Erin decided one of the tadpoles wanted to be separate from the others so she put it in a water bottle next to the rest. After a day or two, it died.

I got the old fish aquarium out of the attic and set it up tadpole-style (?) and the three remaining had been doing ok until tonight... well, actually tragedy struck a few days ago when - she says it was - Blueberry got "stuck" under a few pebbles and just now Erin realized she might be dead.

She was pretty upset about it for about ten minutes then Kerry mentioned that we should start putting live insects into the aquarium for the one tadpole that is basically now a tiny frog. So she ran out back and started collecting ants.


We buried Blueberry in the backyard next to Max. She may make me Dremel up a headstone tomorrow but she just as easily might never mention it.

91.1 huh?

I've always had the two Atlanta college radio stations on my car radio presets and they are always in my regular rotation... which is pretty constantly changing since I hate to listen to a song I don't like. However, unless it's one of the genre programs I rarely ever stop nowadays. The surf music show or Big Band Jump or the punk show on Friday afternoon driving home from work.... or especially Martinis con Queso, the lounge show I've loved for 10 years... those I'll hang around on but the usual stuff doesn't grab me anymore.

Now 88.5 WRAS plays decent stuff.... a good mix... but I'll typically not stay on for more than a song. Unfortunately, even when I hear a great song and I stay on until the DJ comes on, she won't say who played it he will be screwed up and won't get it right. 91.1 WREK is insane. One time they'll be playing a blues song, followed by a schmaltzy lovesong from Thailand, then a cookie monster thrash metal thing, then something that sounds like one of those Simon Says games being hit repeatedly by a cinderblock.

I used to listen to it a lot more and got into some good stuff....

Hater - a lo-fi grungy band I never heard of from anything else then or since other than the cd I picked up,

PJ Harvey - her stuff before that fish song was raw and aggressive, Rid of Me is definitely one of my favorite albums

PeeChee's - good punk/rock thing with a unique vocals, like Hater, never heard of'em again

Cardigan's - their CD Live is unlike the usual stuff I like but still one of my tops, I don't know why they decided to cahnge and sound like every other band... well, of course I do.

Slint - a band with some strange songs, it's been over 16 years since I bought Spiderland but I hear that spooky Captain song about once every 2 years on 88.5 or 91.1.

Portishead - well, it probably helped that the clubs I was hanging out played Dummy a lot but again, although unlike my typical stuff... one of my most played albums

When the whole grunge thing was going I liked Nirvana but I was way into Mudhoney for a few years. Then for a while their stuff wasn't interesting me and I kind of forgot about them. One day, I think I was in a Chic-fil-A drive thru line, and I was listening to 88.5 and this song came on and I was thinking, "Wow, a band that sounds like the music I want to hear" and it turned out to be the then new Mudhoney album.

In 87, I was into the Cult and I was looking around for something like them at Peaches, the record store we used to go to in Orlando. The guy behind the counter got me to buy an album but being cheap, I wanted to hear it before I opened it. My roomate worked at the college radio so sometimes I would listen to the music they had... I remember Celtic Frost for some reason. They had the album there so I listened to it there in one of the booths. Nothing on it really interested me... the band just sounded like the glam rock i wasn't into at all albeit with a shade of old Aerosmith... so I returned it still in the shrinkwrap. It was Guns n' Roses debut and with the later banned cover art. I just looked this up on e-Bay figuring it must be going for at least $100 but nope, $30-40 even unopened like everything else.

Cinco de Mayonnaise

I'm sitting here (typing on the BlackBerry) eating chips from Moe's dipped in Paul New - woops, Finn fell off the slide- man's salsa with a Dos Equis from a Beers of Mexico variety case from BJ's "decanted" with an opener from South of the Border... with a lime in it.

Only a Gordita could make it more authentic.