And then before you know it, they gots ya.

And don't spend your time lookin' around
For something you want that can't be found
When you find out you can live without it
And go along not thinkin' about it
I'll tell you something true
The bare necessities of life will come to you

Miss you hiss

So what's common amongst these three songs and a few others that I can't think of?

Lovecats - The Cure
Hot for Teacher - Van Halen
I WIll Follow - U2

When I was in high school during the MTV AGE, I was pretty much a metal head but I always liked The Cure, one of the most original and talented bands of all time... so many unbelievably cool songs. I had had a friend in junior high who was into them.... I found out a long time later that this guy had committed suicide in college, something that surprised me since he seemed like a normal kid but I guess you never know what people are going through. Although the Cure's "Pornography" album is one of the most depressingly heavy albums I've ever heard, the fact that he got me into the Cure and his later suicide as far as I know have nothing to do with each other. Just some random associations of mine about the Cure. That and he had this poster on his wall. Plus that I was listening to them on my ipod while I mowed the lawn today and thought this whole thing up....

The motorcycle growl that is the beginning of the VH song was just getting going when my car was slammed from the left and heaved across the intersection. Speckles of glass were falling and a massive pain was filling my world but the first thing I just had to do was reach towards the radio and shutoff that goddamn song... there is just no way it fit the situation. Later on as the ambulance people were strapping me into a traction suit I found out that a driver had made a left turn into me. She panicked and ducked below the dash and kept the gas pedal pressed and the steering wheel turned so basically did a 270, jumped the median, and broadsided two more cars that had been sitting in the two lanes with her moments before. Turns out I was fine and that was the first of several pre-graduation accidents.

Speaking of college, one of my roomates (and I do mean "room" mate not apartment sharer... it was the same room) built a pretty impressive loft in our room. We each had an area for a mattress and there was a couch and a desk underneath. I remember doing schoolwork at that desk while listening to his "Joshua Tree" CD which, although I always liked U2 back then, was the first time I "got into" them... not that I actually put down any change for one of their albums though. And I know "I WIll Follow" is not on "Joshua Tree" - well, I do now - but the above is one of my few U2 associations. I did like Bobcat Goldthwait's parody of "With or Without You" but I can't find it on the boundless Internets.

Hold up

My Dad sprung for our first grill back when we got the house up here in stripmall paradise and it lasted a long while.... thans Dad! A few new burners extended it's life by three years. Then we repaced it with a castoff from some neighbors which didn't work out (it's basically fon full blast or not at all) so near the end of this summer, with some good deals out there, we picked up a new one.

Here's a pic.

New pets and new grill.... coincidence?

For at least the last 2 years, K and I knew we'd get a pet for Erin sometime. We wanted something small that would be easy to have someone watch when we went on trips. The focus was a hermit crab for a little while then it became a gerbil. then at the beach, it shifted back to hermit crab.

But we ended up getting them two guinea pigs.... and it turns out that Liam, although he always seemed apathetic at best about a pet (and actually against getting a dog, a view we share) was pretty excited about the little guys.

Their names are Jesse and Ryan although they are both girls... according to the pet store. Speaking of, we had planned to get them from a "rescue" or from someone that need to give them up but the rescue places wanted you to basically convert an entire room to a home for the guinea pigs complete with down comforters, whirlpool bathtubs, and a masseuese and the former owner thing just didn't work out.

Jesse was named by Erin for the Toy Story character. Not sure where Liam got Ryan. Ryan is by far the dominant of the two and they eat like... well, like pigs.

Tales of a fourth grade what the f-?

Thursday night, out of the blue, Erin asked me what a dunce cap was. She reads a lot of books in the American Girl series which are based in various times in history so I suppose that's where she picked up the word. Now, when I was a kid, we would have to stand in the corner if we were bad. It's hard to imagine schools nowadays doing that... oh the shame of actually having to be punished for disobeying the rules, it would surely traumatize the kids for life loosing cutthroats and sociopaths on society.

But I have to admit, much like it's not easy to imagine a teacher in the 21st century forcing a child to be made the object of whispering and tittering by his or her classmates for screwing around, it's difficult for me to see a kid being made to sit on a stool at the front of the class with a pointed cap because he was having problems getting the right answer.

When I was in fourth or fifth grade, every Friday we would have dance day at PE. In my elementary in San Antonio, Texas, PE was held in a big, metal building and overlorded by a large woman who was the one who paddled kids on their birthdays... Miss Ostrowski or Snuffleuppagus or something like that was her name. I suppose before I go further I should explain that... when a kid had a birthday, as I remember the whole school would gather round (though I suspect it might have just been the class) and the victim would bend over and get "gently" paddled with a large oar-like implement. The number of hits equaled the number of year the kid had become.

Anyway, for the dances, the boys would pick a girl and they would be partners. I remember one time I was all set to pick Janice Hayes, the crush of my mid-elementary years, but some mean kid named Billy picked her first. I clearly remember seeing the look of what I decided was dissapointment on her face... of course, she was hoping she would get to dance with the short kid with the Coke bottle glasses! Without even mentioning the fact that such "picking" of the girls by the boys would never be allowed these days, the rules of Friday Dance Day dictated that if a boy didn't pick a girl fast enough, he would have to dance with another boy. And one of the boys would have to wear a ribbon!!

Looking back on all this, I realize that this was because there were more boys than girls. So, much like the last sailor down from the sails of the "Bounty" getting whacked with a blackjack, no matter what happened, there would be boys being forced to dance with other boys.

After being too slow to pick Janice, I did not recover and didn't pick another. So I ended up having to dance with Victor.

But he had to wear the ribbon.

She bop-a-kimbap

I had lunch with a former cow orker yesterday and since I hardly ever eat out, I voted for an eclectic place and chose Dan Moo Ji, a Korean place not close to my work but not far. It was, of course, different from the usual and it was interesting not knowing what to order. The waitress made a few suggestions that we sheepishly followed.

We ordered the tuna kimbap that I saw being raved over on the net but it was no big deal. It came looking like sushi and the outside was sushi-esque. As a wrap, it would be pretty good but I guess it had me set for sushi but the thick and standard - hell, I'm not going to do a restaurant review. The food was so-so but I liked it because it was different.... which is not saying a lot.

Joe Bob says check it out.

Not quite up to speed yet

The soles of my feet are stiff leather, hardened by miles of hot sand, driveway rocks, and blazing asphalt.

While I doze off to sleep, my arms twitch in uncontrollable sweeping movements.

At 10, I wonder if today's a good day to have the first beer before noon.

I'm still spitting out salt water and sand.

I wore my sunglasses and re-applied sunblock every two hours...
at work today.

Requested pic

This picture does NOT do justice

to how absolutely pissed off they were.

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.