Hittin' the town

Last night was more fun than I've had in weeks!

I have been mowing lawns for my sister's friends for a few month for a little extra cash. I don't mind mowing lawns in the least. Fresh air, sunshine (when the weather cooperates, anyway), exercise, and a visible sense of accomplishment when I'm done. The lawn at my current abode is a double lot of mostly weeds, spotted with kidney bean shaped garden patches, with a quadrant that tends to turn into a jungle after just a week. It's daunting and time consuming. The lawns at my sister's friends are a cinch by comparison.

One friend has a double lot, but there are no obstacles. I can usually finish in about a half hour, but have to get my lawn mower there, which is a trick with the trunk latch on my car broken and stuck shut. Her other friend has a single lot, no obstacles of note, and her own mower. She's been offering me $20 per run, which I've reluctantly accepted because I can use the cash, but is much more than is necessary for the 20 minutes it takes me to complete the job.

This gal is fun, intelligent, gorgeous, and just a blast to hang with. Feeling a bit guilty for bilking her for a Jefferson each time for the past couple months, this time I gave her an option: $10 cash or $5 and a drink at the new Rosie O’Grady’s Pub in Ferndale. There are a bunch of reasons we're not right for each other romantically, so I had no worries that this might be interpreted the wrong way. Thankfully, she chose the latter.

I headed over and did the mowing quickly, but efficiently, so as to avoid the rain that seemed eminent. When I finished, she suggested I head over to the bar while she cleans up from her home improvement endeavors. I head the ½ mile to the pub and find a table in the main bar area. Rosie O'Grady's used to be just a step above a dive bar. Nice, relatively clean, but a but worn around the edges - just enough to have 'character'. Rosie’s new digs are AMAZING! Not only is it huge, clean and new, but it has a very open floor plan, separate sections for covered patio, sidewalk patio, bar, and dining areas, DOZENS of flat screen TVs with local sports, and i t's boisterous without being so loud you have to shout to be heard by the person next to you.

I order my beer and wait. She shows up just late enough to be fashionable, and looking fabulous. We proceeded to have some great conversation, talking school and careers, dating stories, how much we both miss my sister now that she’s made the move to the West Coast, and life after divorce. She orders some pizza for us to split and we munched while enthusiastically playing their weekly team trivia game. We started out at the head of the pack in the game, but fell quickly behind when the subject matter moved from pop culture to modern music, then finally to my Achilles Heel, sports.

We were there for about 3 hours just swapping stories, playing trivia, eating, drinking, and having a blast. I’m not used to going out to local trendy ‘hot spots’, let alone with a gorgeous woman, so not only was I having a great time, but I was feeling like quite the envied stud! The tab was a bit more than I had expected, so I offered her a free week of lawn service.

One of the best parts of the evening was going home MUCH later than my roommate (or I) had expected, and putting on my best shit-eatin’ grin. He knows this girl and is QUITE aware of her beauty and charm. I just grin at him and he gets this look of total shock, assuming MUCH more than had happened. I just paused with my cat-who-ate-the-canary grin. I held it for about 5 seconds before I cracked. “We had fun at the bar the whole time. I just wanted to see the look on your face when you assumed…” Priceless. ;)

Doing a favor for a friend, a great night at the bar, lookin’ like a stud at a local hot spot with a major hottie, and making my roomate’s eyes bug out for a few seconds. Yea, awesome night!

Joy, Elation & Confusion

Joy:
My computer was fixed EXPERTLY by my old friend Ralph last weekend. Vista go bye-bye! He got it all set up with the current drivers and a handful of new programs I absolutely adore. I could drag my kudos to Ralph out for pages, but I have to be at work in 15 min. Suffice it to say, his awesome dial goes up to '11'!

Elation:
Greatest American Hero. Issue #1. Variant cover...
...AUTOGRAPHED BY WILLIAM KATT!!!!!
SQUEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
Been waiting on this one for about 4 months and it finally arrived yesterday!

Confusion:
We finally have our new bass housebroken, and our old bass comes, quite unexpectedly, back into town. Not quite sure how to handle this. Lots of issues surrounding Big Dave's personal life can make organizing the quartet stuff tricky. Not impossible, just tricky. On the other hand, he's a great bass, learns quickly, has our more exclusive songs under his belt already, and is generally an all-around great guy. New Dave won't be a poor sport if we have to let him go, I know. He's got another quartet already, and was basically doing us a favor by joining. This is a bit awkward, but will reduce New Dave's stress level a bit and it not like we're telling him "You suck" or anything.

Yes, a bit awkward, but I don't expect problems.

Okay...as the man says... "Time to make the doughnuts..."

"I'm So Tired of this Dull Routine" (A Prayer for Friends)

I often complain about the regular necessities of my daily life: kids to school, work, home, rehearsal, chores, etc. Seems my life is scheduled to the second without a second of "leisure time" to spend as I wish. Lately, however, I've been very grateful for the lack of surprises.

Some dear friends of mine are going through a very tough time right now. Their baby boy is in the hospital with a mystery infection right in the middle of chemotherapy for a tumor on his kidneys. Their life has been thrown into total upheaval. Until now, they've dealt with it very well, adjusting their daily routine to accommodate the doctor's appointments, coordinating some somewhat specialized child care, and playing their work schedules like a delicate ballet in their itineraries.

Recently, however, their adorable baby boy has come down with an unknown infection, spiking his temperature into unnerving if not dangerous territory. Aside from jostling their son's surgery schedule, it's necessitated more time off of work than they had planned and sentry shifts at the hospital they most trade off. They're stressed, scared, and sleep-deprived.

I'm not particularly religious, in that I don't profess my beliefs very often of impress religion on others. I do, however, believe in the power of positive energy and thoughts in whatever form one chooses to project them. If you could all send a thought of encouragement, support, and good will - be it in the form of prayer, karma, cosmic energy, or what ever you believe in - I know they could use it right now. These are wonderful, talented, and strong people who I know will come out on the other end of this exhausted, drained, but nonetheless triumphant, but they can use all the help they can get.

"Hazak Ve'ematz" guys. There's a light at the end of the tunnel and David will be fine. You have all my love, thoughts and prayers.

Out of Frustration Comes Fun...

Our next door neighbors are lovely people. A mother and daughter who, unfortunately, have a bit more house than they can handle. These ladies have been wonderful neighbors for the entire 11 years we have been at our current residence. Blunt and no-nonsense, to be sure, but friendly, helpful, and easy to get along with.

In the city of Hazel Park, we have one particular code enforcement witch that is on a power trip. She routinely harasses these poor ladies for minor violations. Yes, their yard gets a bit unkempt at times, but with big trees in their yard and a fence around the periphery, it's hardly an eyesore. This code enforcement witch has often asked for access to our yard to take pictures of their yard to use against them. We, of course, tell her no. Aside from being good neighbors, we figure if it's not an eyesore from the street or a breeding ground for vermin, it's not a problem.

Now our neighbors are going into foreclosure for various reasons...and the witch has trained her flying monkeys square on us next. She stopped by last week, complaining of "improper storage" on our front porch and backyard (from what she was able to see across 3 yards from the side street), and handed us a warning to have it cleaned up in a week or get a citation. The warning quotes a snippet of the city code that says anything other than "patio furniture" must be stored indoor or in a shed.

Now, I'm NO fan of clutter, but having 2 kids it's often unavoidable. Our front porch usually has Liam's roller blades, a gardening tool or two from weed-digging, and a tub of sidewalk chalk. The past 4 months or so, it's also had a pile of stuff from Sonya's trunk from when she had to clear some room for other things. Our backyard has been in transition all summer. Between the gazebo, the new swing set, the 12' inflatable pool, and preparing for a garage sale this week, I can barely turn around in our backyard.

So yesterday after work at 6:30, I stop by the grocery store for charcoal and a couple other necessities, I come home, make dinner, and proceed to clean up the yard while Sonya talks on the phone. I clean up the stray garbage, pile up the remaining wood for the firebowl, put the toys away, put some garage sale items back in our overcrowded shed, and place the firebowl in the only remaining spot in the yard with space enough for a few chairs around it.

As I'm setting up the firebowl, my best friend Lou stops by unexpectedly. At first I'm a bit frustrated at the interruption in my momentum, but figuring I had accomplished enough and it was getting dark, I grab each of us a beer and start a fire. A few minutes later, our friend Leigh comes by, followd a short time thereafter by my brother-in-law, Jeremy. We spent the evening by the fire laughing, swaping stories, discussing life, love, politics and generally having an impromptu party. It was a perfect night for it.

I'm sure Wicked Witch of the Park will still find something to cite us on, as we're clerly on her shit-list and her newest favorite target, but at the very least, the clean-up spawned a wonderful late-summer evening with friends and atmosphere.

More detail on the Wicked Witch of the Park to come, along with Garage Sale Prep, Rescuing sonya's Car, and anticipating a very special visit!

Not a bad weekend…

My 4th wasn't too bad. Had the day off the new job, but had to work Blockbuster in the evening. In the morning, Sonya and Liam had a parade to do in Huntington Woods (big houses, winding roads, for you non-Detroiters) with the Unicycle group. I packed up Courtney after they left and headed to find a spot to watch the festivities. The parade winded down the residential streets of the tiny community. Nice shade and lots of room to find a spot, given the small nature of the parade. Courtney and I had a lot of fun. Being the picture of the adorable, toe-headed baby-doll, she got a HUGE haul of candy from the passing groups, which she split with her brother. Sonya and Liam did great and Liam impressed the crowd, as usual.

After a nice afternoon barbecue with Sonya, the kids, Leigh, and Sonya's brother Jeremy, I head to work. It was INCREDIBLY slow. Sonya and the kids headed to her parents' cottage in Canada that night, so once again, having to work Friday & Saturday at the video store, I had to stay home all by my lonesome.

You’d think this would either lead to a weekend of boredom or debauchery, but it was a happy balance. Friday, I spent much of the day cleaning the living room and digging into the often ignored corners of the room putting away the lost treasures of the past several months. Sonya had me cancel her debit card Friday night because she couldn’t find it. The next day, I found it safely wrapped inside a receipt on the hutch. (Sigh).

Saturday, I did some more cleaning, hit the comic store, had a nice conversation with the kid Chris hired so he wouldn’t have to work 6 days a week, and visited my mother and grandfather. It was nice to be able to catch up with them. They only live about 15 minutes away, but somehow, I only get to visit them about once a month. After that, I went to work.

About 20 minutes before my shift ended, I notice my friend, Paulie B., wandering the aisles. We chat for a few and after work I head to hang with him, Sarah Bradley, and a few others at Sara’s place to watch Clerks II (which I had almost started while I was cleaning earlier).

Sunday, more cleaning, only now the stuff I despise: laundry, dishes, toilet, bathroom sink, etc.. After I come to a stopping point, I head to my sisters to drop off a volcanic rock from my grandfather’s garden that she wants to use in her own garden. I play with her dog, water her plants (as she was away with her boyfriend for the weekend), grab some Taco Bell, and head home to start on a new assignment.

The past week, I’ve been corresponding with a fellow barbershopper from Nevada that my chorus director put me in touch with. He has a quartet called the Rat Paq, and is in need of some learning tracks for the Rat Pack-esque songs his quartet will be doing. I found out that he doesn’t just need a couple, but ELEVEN! After exchanging e-mails, sending a sample of my work, and haggling the price – a LOT – we finally strike a deal. I’m giving him a HELL of a deal compared to the $150-$200 going rate for learning tracks from the pros. Being my first real gig doing such, and being that between the members of his quartet, they’re connected with 3 choruses with 9 other registered quartets between them to suggest my service to, it’ll likely bring in a LOT more business. Call it a promotional deal.

I have been contemplating trying to make a few extra bucks by doing learning tracks for quartets for a while, after doing a few gratis ones for my chorus. This will be my first REAL paid gig as such. Over the weekend we exchange e-mails and on Sunday morning I found all the songs he needed in Finale files in my e-mail box. I’m hired! I spent much of Sunday evening recording “In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning”, and I must say, I’m pretty damned proud of how it turned out.

I e-mailed it out to him last night. I think he’ll be impressed with a 1-day turnaround. I may not see the money for a while, but I trust barbershoppers. We’re an absent-minded lot, sure, but not crooks.

By the way, if you could all send happy thoughts and prayers to my buddy, Chuck May and his darling wife, Molly, they could use it about now. Chuck & Molly are kindred spirits to me on many levels. Both are barbershoppers, music educators, and 10^th level geeks in their own right, and they’re raising their 10-month old son, David the same way (bless them!).

David was diagnosed a couple weeks ago with a Wilkes tumor. He had one of his kidneys removed and is undergoing chemo for the next 23 weeks to treat the remaining tumor on his other kidney. The prognosis is good so far and David is starting to act like his bubbly, happy, precocious self, but 24 weeks of chemo won’t be fun. Any positive thoughts and prayers would be greatly appreciated.

BackBlogged...Again.

Forgive me, bloggers, for I have sinned. It's been over 4 weeks since my last blog.

And a whirlwind four weeks it's been too! An extremely fun and understated birthday, full-on geek immersion, successful adjustment to the new job, a couple days of semi-bachelorhood, and the resurrection of my beloved laptop (hence my return to blogging).

My birthday party on the 10th went very well. Maybe a dozen or so folks came by to help me celebrate. We sat around the fire bowl in the back yard, sang some songs, drank some beer, had cake, and caught each other up on life in general. It was a nice, relaxed, understated evening with friends. I like a big party, but given the late announcement and other peoples' prior commitments, this was just right. Not too big, not too small. I'd like to thank everyone who came by and made my birthday fun: Paulie, Sarah, Nyma, Todd, Jenn, Kirk, Leigh, Lou, Linda, and of course, my lovely wife Sonya. I know I'm forgetting one or two people. Forgive me. The last hour or two are a bit of a blur 3 weeks after the fact.

On the 17th, I went to my first Motor City ComiCon. I have never felt SOOOOO in my element...sadly, pathetically, embarrassingly in my element. I decided to go in my Greatest American Hero t-shirt rather than the full costume (first ComiCon and all, I wanted to tone down the geektitude a bit), figuring that was the ONE place it would be appreciated more than anywhere else (and it was). I ran into several friends I expected to see, and a few that surprised me. I was on the lookout for my friend Chris Brown, knowing he was closing his comic store to attend ("All my customers will be there anyway"). After maybe a half hour there, I spotted him. He was kinda hard to miss, being a 6'2" beanpole of a guy with a Mohawk and what can only be described as an entourage. I followed him for a while, and then got bored with the pace as he stopped to talk to virtually EVERBODY there like they're long lost cousins at a family reunion.

Later I spotted a former co-worker of mine, Jamin Fite, who runs a website, www.LeiasMetalBikini.com. After seeing the large representation of "Warsies" there, my surprise faded a bit, but as I walked up to say hi, I noticed he had his own entourage...of Slave Girl Leias. Resisting the urge to get my picture taken with hot girls in bikinis who will likely have to spend the day surrounded by enough overweight geeks as it is, I wandered off to check out the celebs. Not many of note, but I did manage to shake hands with Mickey Dolenz, Walter Koenig, and Anthony Montgomery (Ensign Travis Mayweather on Enterprise), as well as stand close enough to breath the same air as Chase Masterson (Leeta on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Erik Estrada, Avery Brooks, and the ever-cool Billy Dee Williams. I also sat in on a talk with Anthony Montgomery later with several folks in Star Trek regalia, a Klingon or two and several others who looked like they haven't seen the sun since the Reagan administration.

Last Thursday was Courtney’s pre-school graduation. I took my lunch a bit late that day so I could attend. While I think the idea of a graduation ceremony for pre-school a bit much, it was nice to see my somewhat shy baby girl get up and perform some songs with her class so enthusiastically. They’re growing up so fast.

The past 2 weekends, I’ve had a brief taste of the bachelor life. On Memorial Day weekend, I stopped by Valerie’s place to borrow her mower again, and paid my usual price: free mowing for her double lot. It was nice, though, getting a bit of exercise on a nice day and being able to chat with my little sis. Memorial Day, Sonya, Courtney and I accompanied Liam and his Cub Scout troop in the parade, picking up Valerie and Rufus along the route. Liam decorated his bike and rode it along the route, Courtney had a ball being pulled in the wagon and throwing mini Tootsie Rolls at the kids, and we all enjoyed a nice 2-mile walk on a gorgeous day. Later, Sonya and the kids headed to the family cottage in Canada and I had the run of the house…to wash dishes, fold laundry, vacuum, mow the lawn… Not exactly exciting, but I was able to take some pride in my productivity and managed to spare a few moments to sit, relax, and enjoy the wonderful weather. After being productive, I decided to call up Paulie B., and he and Sarah Bradley came over to watch the Pistons game. A good time was had by all.

Last weekend, Sonya & Liam went to a Cub Scout “Mom & Me” campout, while Courtney went with grandma so I could do my shifts at Blockbuster. Once again, I did a few chores in my all-too-brief free time before work, fix a bug in the desktop computer, and tidied up the place. I did manage to fit in hitting the comic store and have my annual Monte Cristo sandwich at Bennigan’s. I usually have one of these heart-attack-on-a-plate sandwiches a year, usually around my birthday. Turkey & ham with Swiss and American cheeses, battered, deep-fried, sprinkled with powdered sugar and served with a side of raspberry preserves to dip it in. Sarah Bradley calls ‘em “Turkey Paczkis” - an apt moniker. I called up my best friend, Lou, and he and his girlfriend Linda joined me for some company at Bennigan’s. After my shift at Blockbuster that night, I stopped by my friend Bob Perye’s place for his weekly IPM (In Perpetual Motion – www.IPMradio.com) internet radio program/party and had a lot of fun chatting, playing Wii bowling, and trying pizza-flavored beer (I know, sounds gross, but it’s actually pretty damned good).

The new job is going VERY well. I had been a bit nervous about fitting in and “clicking” with the folks at my new place of business, but a couple weeks ago, one of the other salesmen actually made a point of stopping in my office to mention how well I had acclimated myself to the flow of the place. That really meant a lot to me, as I had still felt a bit awkward around everyone, being the new guy and having brought a plague of some upper respiratory infection to the entire staff my first week. The job has its periods of dull, slow times, filled with motivating myself to make cold calls to prospects and clients who haven’t heard from us in up to a year, but there are also days where I can’t seem to detach the phone from my ear as I’m punching in order after order. It makes me a bit nervous to work on commission and have my paychecks ebb and flow with the sales trends and economy, but on the whole (with some tenacity in sales and financial planning and budgeting), I know I’ll do better here than my former job.

We have a new guy starting today to take over the extra territory I had been covering in the interim. He has tons of experience in the field and I know he’ll do well. While I’m a bit sorry to see some of the clients I’ve been serving for the past month go to someone else, I knew it was coming. It’ll be nice not to be the “new guy” for a while and I look forward to meeting him. He’s stepping into a good territory and I’ve tried to “warm it up” a bit for him.

My laptop: I dropped it with my computer guru and old friend, Chris DeLaney on Thursday. It seemed to have a relapse of the problem I had before: staring up, quick flash of BlueScreen, citing a problem with the last shutdown, prompting for safe mode, lather, rinse, repeat. I feared another wipedown was in order – ugh. After not hearing anything over the weekend, I feared the worst, then Monday, Chris called me. Apparently, it was just a static shock to the computer initiated a restore to the default BIOS settings. As my computer doesn’t seem to like the default settings to read my hard drive, it was just a matter of disabling the SATA driver. VIOLA! Back to work!

He offered to refund me the cash I offered him, saying it was a simple fix and was probably the original problem when he re-installed Windows last time, but I made him keep half, if for nothing g else, being willing to deal with my needy self whilst I suffer laptop DTs.

Last night Sonya and I, through the gracious babysitting abilities of our good friend Leigh, were able to take a night to go on an anniversary date. We went to Bahama Breeze for a wonderful dinner and caught the new Indiana Jones flick. Star has apparently started a great weekday deal with $4.75 tickets and $5 pop/popcorn combos, so we even managed to save some money. We had a GREAT time and both loved the movie. Go see it!

That’s all I can recall for now. God willing, I’ll have the time to do a bit more blogging, now that my laptop is back. TTFN!

"Luck ‘O The Irish", My Arse…

The St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Corktown went well. Sonya and Leigh headed down about 2 hours early to join a friend of Leigh’s in the parade walking a pack of Irish Setters. This left me to gather up the kids myself and head to our usual spot along the parade route across the street from Nemo’s. Not unexpectedly, they dragged out my timeline and bit. After doing a mountain of dishes, a bit of tidying around the house, and gathering some chocolate milk for the kids, I argue with Liam a bit to get moving and we hit the road about 1:30. We grabbed some Taco Bell on the way to be sure the kids get some protein before inhaling the piles of candy they were sure to gather along the parade route and a 6 pack of Guinness for me and whomever else we should meet up with.

We got there about 10 minutes into the parade. About 40 minutes after my anticipated arrival time, but still typical for us, and not missing much. Liam desperately wanted to wear his roller blades to the parade. I wasn’t keen on the idea at first, knowing Michigan Avenue is brick paved and bumpy, and fearing skinned knees or a bumped head marring the experience. I eventually acquiesced, and I’m glad I did. He’s apparently got this roller blading thing down pat. It sped up our movement from the car to the parade, and he spent the whole time zooming up and down within about ½ block on either side of our spot, laughing, cheering, meeting other kids, and snatching up candy and beads without a single scratch or bruise. We met up first with my sister Val’s old flame Stephan and his girlfriend, and later with Val, and eventually my best friend Lou and his fiancé.

Though I forgot to borrow the camera from work, Val got a few great shots. You can see them on her Flickr page here: Val's Flickr Page

As the parade was wrapping up, I spotted a guy in a leather jacket with “Teen Angels” emblazoned on the back. They being my favorite local A Cappella/Doo-Wop group, I stroll over and ask if he’s in the group. After chatting him up a bit, discussing barbershop and A cappella music, I find out he’s the brother of a good friend of mine in another quartet! We have a few laughs as the parade comes to a close, and the small mob of us that had coalesced head to Sonya’s parents’ place to gather and decompress.

The rest of the evening was spent between watching the Balduck Mountain Ramblers at Nemo’s, chatting at the house, drinking, and munching on take-out Botana from Xochimilco’s. I passed out in a chair, letting Sonya take the kids home and figuring on a short nap before heading home. I woke up about midnight (MUCH later than I had planed), and drove home, with a quick stop by AJ’s Café in Ferndale to participate in their world record attempt to sing “Danny Boy” non-stop for 50 hours.

St. Patty’s Day proper was spent at work, then home to watch the kids while Sonya took some much needed time out to hang with her family at Nemo’s to watch the Ramblers some more and have a beer. That’s about where the fun and supposed “Luck O’ The Irish” ran out…

Just where the hell did that phrase come from anyway? Snakes, famine, and religious oppression at home, hatred, bigotry, indentured servitude, and deplorable living conditions here. Where in the hell did ANYONE get the idea that the Irish were lucky?

Well, even only being about ¼ Irish, it seems that sour brand of “Irish Luck” is coursing through my blood again. The car I bought for such a deal about a month ago is fast becoming a giant mutant albatross around my neck. First the heater core doesn’t work – a $400 repair I haven’t done yet. Then I notice the stereo has a few glitches, which, having no garage, I can’t get to until this interminable cold weather breaks. I still have to find a bed liner for the hatchback area. The front driver’s tire has a very slow leak. Then, most recently, it had been running a bit rough and the “check coolant” light came on. No biggie – probably just needed a top off on the radiator fluid, right? That took care of it for about a week, then the light came on again. This time my car’s thirst was quenched for all of a day before the hood started to steam. The temperature gauge was still within the realm of “normal”, but I figured I’d take it in for it’s first oil change under my care and get $15 worth of free advice from the grease monkeys there.

I drive in with a pleasant smile, hoping they’ll say it’s a slipped hose or something. Well, faith ‘n begorah, if it wasn’t the water pump. On top of that, my serpentine belt is in tatters and on the verge of disintegration. Great. I head to the local discount auto parts store for a $45 water pump, $20 serpentine belt, and a $15 timing belt (which you may as well replace if you’re doing the water pump), and I take it to my trusted mechanic, Tony, at BYOP (Bring Your Own Parts) Auto Repair.

I left it with him first thing yesterday, knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to get to it that day. He usually encourages appointments so he can plan his schedule better. I hop a bus to work from there and wait…and wait…and wait. About 3:30 he calls me with a grim tone in his voice. He knows I ain’t Rockefeller and try to do the minimum needed to get from point A to B. Apparently my thermostat wasn’t reading correctly and sometime (probably Saturday) I had blown a head gasket.

This can often be a death sentence for a car, depending on how the engine’s built. While my Mercury Tracer (basically a Ford Escort) has a good rep and being a Ford product, parts are relatively cheap, it wasn’t exactly designed for durability. It’s the kind of domestic Econo-Box you buy in a six-pack and hope to take good care of to get to about 150k miles. Mine's at about 102k. He runs down the litany of procedures for the work and as my heart beats faster in my chest, having assumed I just dumped $1500 down the drain buying this overrated go-kart, he gives me the total…$500 (give or take $100).

That’s it? I was figuring on about $300 for the water pump anyway. Was I happy? Hell no, but at least that repair brings my total cost of the car to around the Blue Book value (so far – I still have to get to the heater core before next winter). While it’s not a repair I was financially prepared for and will suck my account down to the dregs, it’s not a panic-inducing situation (knock wood).

So I’ll be without a car…AGAIN…for about a week or so while I get the necessary work done. God willing, this will be the last mandatory repair I’ll have to do for a while.

Spring barbershop convention is looking less and less likely…

Geekdom Indoctrination: the Next Generation…

I’ve been reading my friend, Chuck’s, blogs for a while now. They recount the goings on of a great dad who is basically the balder, more athletic, more professionally successful clone of me. He’s a goatee-clad, barbershoppin’, sci-fi watchin’, music edcuatin’ ubergeek, like myself. The biggest difference between us is that he’s (currently) a stay-at-home dad. As such, he gets more opportunity to pursue and share his geekly obsessions with his 7-month-old son more than I. I have recently been taking every opportunity to share my slightly off-center hobbies and interests with my boy, in hopes that I raise a well-rounded 3^rd generation geek. (Sorry, dad, but Ham radio, barbershop, Star Trek, and computers before they were in vogue? You’re a geek, too. You know I use that term with the utmost respect and love.)

Liam has had behavior issues, in school particularly, for much of his scholastic career. Usually involving a temper tantrum following some minor incident he blows out of proportion, he gets pretty regular reports and disciplinary action sent home from his teacher. They ebb and flow throughout the year, ranging from weeks of being the ideal student to suspensions for his fits. He’s never directly violent toward people, and his grades are astounding, but he can be disruptive to the extreme on occasion. This week, he’s been very well behaved, receiving 3 stars (perfect day) and one name on the board (1 minor offence). If he comes home with another star today, as a reward, I decided to indoctrinate him into one of the holiest realms of Geekdom, by giving him his first, REAL comic book.

There are a few realms of Geekdom I haven’t delved into much myself, mostly due to time and/or financial restrictions: Dungeons & Dragons, card-based role-playing games, modern video games (by that, I mean post-NES), to name a few, but most notably, comics. I have a meager collection of some late 70’s “Action” & “Superman” comics I picked up for a quarter a piece in the early 90’s, an early “X-men” comic I’m fairly proud of, a smattering of dated, kitschy titles like “Sledge Hammer” and “California Raisins in 3D” comics, and I once owned a 1^st printing of “Batman: the Killing Joke” (sad story behind that one), but nothing I followed regularly or got really into. With all of my busy goings-on, I had to balance my mild-mannered life as a husband, father, student, etc., with my dark alter-ego of UberGeek.

Recently, however, a number of my friends have been talking about comics more and more. Between Chuck and his regular outings to the comic store with his boy, my co-worker, James, regaling me with updates on major title storylines and his weekly trek to spend $60+ on comics, and such, I figured it was at least worth dipping my toe in the water and see how deep I could afford to venture. A former schoolmate of mine recently took over ownership of a comic store nearby, so rather than head out to one of the local comic MegaStores, I figured I trusted my friend Chris to steer me in the right direction of a comic to start with.

I was torn as to where to start. Some collect comics to read, following stories and biting their nails at each cliffhanger. Some buy them to collect, purchasing each one like coin-collectors, hoping their investment will mature greatly and quickly. I’m a little of both. As much as I love the major titles like Spiderman, Superman, Batman, X-men and the like (I’m a newbie, so I haven’t developed a preference for DC vs. Marvel yet), there was a bit too much history in those storylines to jump right into. It’d be like starting to watch a long-running soap opera like Days of Our Lives, with references and characters popping up now and again I’d have no frame of reference to. Too frustrating. I wanted to start with something kind of classic, but at a major turning point where I could start relatively fresh. Then I caught something on a feature story on the news.

Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America, was being killed off and passing his legendary shield to a new hero. This was perfect. A new pivotal point in the Captain America saga, destined to appreciate in value, AND a fresh, new character and storyline. Yes, there will obviously be references to previous Captains, but I could research them or ask any of my well-versed fellow geeks. Off I go to Comics & More.

I arrive at the store and am greeted by my friend, Chris, behind the counter with a warm smile. He’s more than willing to share his vast knowledge of comics and guides me to the genres I’d enjoy. I am absolutely overwhelmed. As I peruse the shelves I find MOUNTAINS of titles I simply MUST read: Star Trek, Transformers, Evil Dead, Darkman (my nickname in high school, due to my perpetual wardrobe of trenchcoat and fedora), and crossovers in seemingly innumerable combinations. I’m a kid in a candy store. They will, unfortunately, have to wait. I have Chris put the 2 most recent Captain Americas on hold for me until my paycheck is deposited, and walk out with a huge grin. I have a new obsession.

Since then, I have popped in to say hi to Chris a few times, most recently, to pick up my Captain Americas, drop him a bootleg of the complete series of Automan. Suddenly, a brilliant thought occurs to me. I’m always on the lookout for inexpensive incentives and rewards for Liam when he’s behaving well. His last one was getting a role in my barbershop chorus’s annual show, "What's Up, DOC?", as Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. He’ll be up on stage, strutting his stuff next weekend with us, and he's REALLY looking forward to it, as am I.

Lately, when his attitude has been improving, he has been allowed to get into a plethora of other great geek hobbies: magic tricks, unicycling, etc., and indoctrinating him into the Cult of Comics would be a perfect prize. Since he saw the Transformers movie, he’s been hooked on them. He got a few for Christmas and they’re his favorite toys. I grabbed a Transformers comic featuring Blaster (an Autobot who transforms to a boombox), with no particular ongoing storyline to it and added it to my small pile.

Today, after waking Liam up and getting him ready for school, I showed it to him, explained the proper care and treatment of comics (akin to the lecture Sonya got from her father regarding vinyl records) explaining the importance plastic sleeves, careful handling, and proper storage, and told him that if he gets just one more star today, he gets it. If not, I’ll hold onto it for him until he gets an appropriate amount of well-behaved days. He was absolutely thrilled.

I plan on trying to take him to my friend’s comic store this weekend to see the full spectrum of what this world has to offer. This will be great fun for the both of us, starting a journey into a new geek realm with my son as we both discover the joys of comics. I can’t wait!

Quick Plug: If you ever want to get out of the stranglehold of the local comic megastores like Warp 9 and Time Travelers, go check out Chris Brown’s store, Comics & More on John R. Road, at 11 ½ Mile in Madison Heights. So far, he mostly deals in new stuff as opposed to collectibles and vintage titles (though he does have a few). It’s a great (if a bit small for now) store, Chris has a GREAT knowledge of the genre, and is just a fun place to hang out and talk GeekSpeak. I can’t recommend the place enough. Check out his MySpace for more info.

So how was YOUR Christmas, Paul? Part 3

Forgive me, readers, for I have sinned. It’s been 8 days since my last blog…

Okay, it’s been a while and I have other things to blog about, so I’ll just give the (somewhat) abbreviated version of the remaining parts of what I like to call “Worst…Christmas…Ever!".

Had my left 2 wisdom teeth extracted the day after I got the remains of my car from the impound. Got up at 7am and grabbed breakfast at McD’s. Had the wrong time in my head for the appointment, so I spent an extra half-hour of excruciating anticipation in the waiting room before getting things going. The actual extraction and subsequent stitches for one of the holes were quick and (relatively) painless, but as usual, the waiting and the Novocain shots were the worst. He explains the possibility of “dry socket”, where the clot becomes dislodged or never forms at all, creating infection, severe pain, and necessitates more surgery. (GULP!) This inspires the over-cautious reactionary in me for the next several days.

After a bit of wrangling about billing, I’m given scripts for Tylenol 3, amoxicillin, and Motrin and sent on my way. I hit the drug store for the prescriptions and head home with gauze in my mouth.

After gathering the kids, we went to Christmas Part Deux at my grandfather’s place. Aside from not being able to eat anything with the gaping holes in my jaw still bleeding, it was fun. We leave and Sonya drops me at work at the video store. Yes, I worked the register, with gauze in my mouth, after oral surgery. I’m an idiot.

About 9, Sonya calls me at work (she doesn’t do that usually unless it’s an emergency). Apparently, someone broke into her parents’ house in Detroit and ransacked the place. Sonya was rushing down to help and, thus, wouldn’t be able to pick me up from work for a while. After explaining my situation to the boss, I’m let go early to catch a ride with a coworker who was just leaving, so I could stay home with the kids and not give them another late night. I managed to get the kids in bed without killing them, despite having had a downright shitty week, a sore jaw, holes in my mouth that wouldn’t stop bleeding, and doped up on a trilogy of meds.

The next day, we all went back to Sonya’s parents’ house with Leigh to help clean up a bit more. Bless her heart, Leigh is always there to help out. Thankfuly, there wasn’t much of obvious value at that house. It seems they hardly took anything: a few DVDs, a jar of change, but not much else. Odd and almost frustrating, considering they took the time and effort to kick in 2 doors, empty every drawer, and even take a lamp to the empty second floor to inspect up there. Even the silver was still there. We cleaned up for a couple hours, then wrapped up and had diner at Mexican Village afterwards. I hadn’t eaten in roughly 36 hours and was still bleeding a bit. At the behest of virtually everyone and despite not actually feeling very hungry, I order a side of beans and rice. I finish the beans and a bit of the rice.

The next day, I check my voice mail to find a message from the auto shop. Just as I had feared, the car’s a loss. Sonya still wants to ask some questions, hoping the guy was basing that prognosis on more repairs than were needed to get it moving and (relatively) legal, drawing the process out further. I have yet to retrieve the car, but I expect in the end, I’ll be calling Charity Motors to have it hauled away for parts and some meager tax deduction.

I went onto my credit union to look into a loan for my next car. My credit’s pretty f*cked up right now, so with a co-signer, I may be able to afford some $2500 beater to get me through the next couple years. I’ll probably end up in another late 90’s Ford. Eh, no biggie. I’ve had 3 other Ford sedans in my day. They’re comfy, fairly reliable, get decent gas mileage, and are relatively cheap and easy to repair – especially compared to the Isuzu. Still, I will miss having an SUV. I know they’re not economical or politically correct, but it was comfy, spacious, and I liked having a higher vantage point on the road. It fit me like a glove.

New Year's was quiet and peaceful. We were invited to 2 parties, but given the impending snow storm and the absolutely hectic and shitty week we've all had, Sonya and I decided to just stay home. Sonya's parents came for the kids, as they had plans for the next day to go to the opera with their grandfather to see Hansel & Gretel (which Liam apparently was absolutely thrilled with and extremely well behaved for. I have a 7-year-old boy who likes opera. I'm a good Music Dad and he's got a great music grandpa).

Sonya's brother, Jeremy, joined us and we spent the night munching, drinking, and watching the tube. We set off a few leftover bottle rockets at midnight, watched a couple movies (well, THEY watched - I hadn't eaten much over the past several days, so the drinks I had hit me hard and I passed out quickly). I was just glad to toss out the old year and start fresh.

Thus endeth 2007 and the "Worst...Christmas...EVER"!

Remembering Old Friends...

Yesterday I went to the "Gift of Life Celebration" (AKA memorial service) for Jason Michael Bradley. It was a bit of a sobering experience. I got to hear about and understand my friend more than I had considered.

I had helped his sister, Sarah, a bit by scanning a few of Jason's old pictures to have them available for the family and to present in a slideshow for the reception following the service. We met over coffee and perused my MP3 collection to come up with an appropriate soundtrack. An hour and a half of music, and we hadn't even gotten through the 'R's in my pop/rock folder yet. Sonya spent about 11 hours and was up until 8:30 in the morning arranging them all and setting them to appropriate songs (cussing at my laptop the whole time for not working the way she expected it to).

The testimonies provided by his family, friends, even our old choir director Rick Hartsoe, gave a greater insight to the man I knew, and all of it confirmed what I had known about Jason for years: that Jason was all about love and joy. Here is a man that lived more in 29 years than most could in a century. He had seen more of the country by the time he was 25 than most would see in their lifetime, yet he still had the time to make everyone in his life feel like the most important person in the world. No one could recall a single harsh word or emotion from him. This big teddy bear of a guy embodied unconditional love - and it was felt by everyone there.

My writings aren't usually this disjunct, but it would take me days to compile and organize my thoughts on this event and my subsequent feelings about Jay. Suffice it to say, the service wasn't sorrowful or regretful. One always regards the death of someone so young as a tragedy and with a certain amount of regret, but with Jay, there was none. Tear, yes, but not regret. He lived an AMAZINGLY full life and blessed absolutely everyone whose life he touched. So much so, that rather than focusing on what might have been, everyone was focused on how grateful they were to have known him at all.

Everyone's familiar with the concept of "Pay It Forward" by now. Well, jay was the impetus for more kindness, love, and smiles paid forward than most anyone I can think of. He inspired everyone he knew to be cheerful, helpful, and loving.

The world is more indebted to Jason Michael Bradley that it will ever realize...

The Halloween Blog – FINALLY!

Okay, took me almost 3 weeks to get to it, but here's a quick rundown of Halloween.

This is mostly so I can post some pics of the kids' Halloween Costumes. Other than that, there's not much to report. I got home, we ran around like mad getting costumes on, Leigh brought over dinner ("ears and eyeballs" made with shell pasta for "ears" and veggie meatballs for "eyeballs" with LOTS of mozzarella – yum), and I headed out with the kids for a few blocks while Sonya and Leigh handed out goodies and had a chance to chat, sans kids. After about 3 blocks or so, we rounded the route back home so Sonya and Leigh could trade duties with me.

After they were done and dumped their haul on the floor for us to inspect (parental paranoia, but only a few rejects), Aunt Val stopped by drop her goodies for the kids, since we didn't have time to stop by her place. We had a good time chatting and munching, and the kids hit the hay.

Liam went as "Ghost Rider".

This was nice and simple. He had full skull mask, but it covered his hair, so I let him use my old 2-piece, glue-on skull mask from my "Grim Reaper" days. Sonya put some hair spray and red make-up in his blond hair to resemble flames. Add my skeleton gloves, a $10 leather coat from the Salvation Army (that will get a couple more years of standard use as well), and a length of chain from Home Depot, and voila! He looked GREAT!

Courtney went as a dragon.

This was Liam's costume that Sonya had made from about 4 years earlier. Sonya was digging through the closet a couple months ago and Courtney spotted it. It was a tad small, but not bad for a costume. The only addition she wanted was a set of wings, which Sonya was more than happy to oblige. She found a nice piece of iridescent fabric and simple safety-pinned it on. Courtney looked adorable – as always.

I, having a certain standard to maintain when it comes to clever costumes, went as Nintendo's Mario.

I had been growing this handlebar moustache for the Moustache Contest at this Fall's barbershop convention. Well, the contest got buggared up and didn't happen, but the moustache proved useful, nonetheless.

While getting some balloons for Courtney's birthday party several weeks ago, I found myself looking at the front page of the Detroit News/Free Press. They had a story about the new video games for the holiday season and featured a picture of Mario on the front page. I found myself looking at the picture and absent-mindedly twisting my moustache like Sindley Whiplash. I realize what I'm doing, look again at the picture, and smile, knowing what my costume will be for the year.

I bought a pair of overalls from Wal*Mart (I hate shopping there), a red mock-turtleneck from the thrift store, dye my cap red, cut out the "M" from an iron-on patch, grab some old marching band gloves and my brown boots. I color my eyebrows, moustache and sideburns with make-up and – boom – perfect Mario.

That night, I shaved off the moustache and started growing my standard goatee again. I hate having a long moustache.

I'm not about to post a picture of Sonya's WONDERFUL pirate costume without her okay first. I'd be drawn and quartered for sure.

All-in-all a fun Halloween. Nothing remarkable, but just plain old-fashioned fun.

I love having kids.

Fall Barbershop Convention, Part III: Sunday - the wrap-up...

Wake up, shower (I had to call the front desk to ask them how to get the damned thing to work), pack up, and check out. "Big Dave", our bass, and I hit the local diner for breakfast and have a nice convo about women, family, quartets and such, then hit the road.

My best friend and Lead, Lou, had reserved the hotel room for us on his card. I mistakenly got the impression that he was going to pay for the room and I'd pay him back. Whoops. He aparently had no intention of this, as he's in pretty dire financial straits himself, and "Big Dave" is recovering from a long bout of unemployment and had to owe me his share, so I had to put the whole damned thing on my credit card. $200 I hadn't planned on. As if justifying these convention trips wasn't hard enough...

Friday night when Lou and I were at the hotel bar, he ordered a sandwich. It took so long, he decided to get it 'to go', then eventually got fed up and started to walk out. As he was leaving, the waitress caught up with him, handed it to him with appologies, and he walked of with it in a frustrated huff. They eneded up billing MY tab for it.

I left a message for Lou on Sunday, letting him know about the error, figuring he'd owe me the $4 in a beer sometime. He proceeded to call the hotel and complain. Not only was the manager EXREMELY appologetic, but he comped 1/2 of his AND my hotel bill for the weekend! As bad as Lou's luck can be at times, other times he could step in a pile of shit and come out with gold-plated loafers (see my entry for last Fall's convention for another example). So, once again Lou's convention fortune rubs off on me a bit and I spend half as much on the weekend as I had planned! Maybe I should use the savings to bribe the judges a bit next contest....

Anyway, I get home, nap a bit as Sonya and her brother work on their costumes, and we wait for the kids to get back from the grandparents' place. They arrive and we hang with my father-in-law a bit, having a fun, relaxing evening.

I'll say it again: "Best...Convention...EVER!"

Coming up next: Backlog of Blogs (Backblogged?)...

Saying goodbye…

I suck at goodbyes. I'm great at cheerful "see ya later"s, or even the occasional "catch ya on da flip". Goodbye – when I know it's forever – I just can't do.

I'm a pathetic sap. I'm not even 5 sentences into this damned blog and my eyes are tearing up already.

The decision has been made to stop my friend Jason Bradley's life support and let him pass on. Every test has shown that he has no higher brain function left – just heartbeat and breathing. Our Jason is gone.

I went to the hospital last night to say goodbye. I'm still fighting this damnable cold, so I coated my hands in germicide and put on the paper mask. Just as well. I didn't want anyone to see the look on my face. A couple of his good friends from Florida were there keeping vigil. I still have this glimmer of hope. Miracles do happen. I said something akin to, "I'm not giving up on you, but if you decide this is goodbye, so be it."

The mask didn't cover my eyes, though. It was soaked by the time I left.

After heading home, watching a movie with my kids and getting them to bed, I went in the backyard and Sonya and I started a fire in the fire bowl. I spent the better part of the next 4 hours there sharing a last beer with my friend, pouring a small amount into the fire between sips.

I had been trying to remember exactly when Jason and I had first met, assuming it was something involving my sister and Dondero's choir. Sonya reminded me last night that I had met him a year prior, during the highlight of my high school career, the Spring musical, The Music Man.

I was playing the lead, Harold Hill. The director had recruited several 7^th and 8^th graders to play the part of the boy's band. They would come in from time to time for run-throughs and some rehearsals. For the big finale, all of the kids needed instruments. Having met and talked with Jason a bit, I saw a lot of myself in him. He was a chubby extrovert with a chipper persona and goofy sense of humor. We just clicked, so I chose to sort of take him under my wing. I lent him my personal trombone for the final scene and made a big point of letting him know that he was the only one I trusted with it.

I don't know how I could have forgotten that, but somehow, it makes this loss all the harder for me. Jason was with me for one of my biggest triumphs at that point in my life, and helped make it that way by making me feel important and looked up to. That was Jay: always lifting people up, even when he's not really trying to. It was reflexive for him to make people smile.

Sonya and I talked about him for a while, remembering how he would light up a room. He wouldn't make a big entrance or draw attention to himself. You'd be at a party, surveying the scene, and notice him in a corner talking with some folks and smiling that shit-eatin' grin he'd usually have on his face. Suddenly you think, "Yea, NOW it's a party," and go join in the fun.

Talked with my good friend and designated "inner child" Paulie B. last night after he got home from hanging with some of Jason's family. He helped me put some things in perspective. An interesting switch, as lately that seems to have been my role for him. He and Sonya have been a rock for me through this. They may not know it, since I play my stronger emotions pretty close to the vest, but they've been keeping me pretty grounded.

This is hitting me on a lot of levels. Not just losing Jason, but contemplating the bigger issues of mortality, God, and eternity as well. I haven't been questioning my faith, exactly, but it's helped me to put it into better, more focused perspective.

In closing, there's a song that has been creeping into my head a lot lately. It's from The Muppets Take Manhattan and was used at Jim Henson's funeral. It pretty much sums everything up: sorrow, grief, and hope. Have tissues at the ready.

Saying Goodbye

Saying goodbye, going away
Seems like goodbye's such a hard thing to say
Touching a hand, wondering why
It's time for saying goodbye

Saying goodbye, why is it sad?
Makes us remember the good times we've had
Much more to say, foolish to try
It's time for saying goodbye

Dont want to leave, but we both know
Sometimes it's better to go
Somehow I know we'll meet again
Not sure quite where, and I dont know just when
You're in my heart, so until then

Wanna smile, wanna cry
Saying goodbye

La la la la la la la la

It's time for saying goodbye...

Saying goodbye

Add to My Profile | More VideosGoodbye, Jason. Time to get this show on the road.

Vague references, with gratitude…

She's adorable and precious. Thank you so much for the picture. You guys are still in my thoughts and prayers. I have nothing but respect for what you guys went through and coming out of it on top. All my love and best wishes to all 6 of you.

And you, sir, I still consider one of my oldest and dearest friends. That can't and won't change.

Missing old friends…

I've been meaning to get to this subject for a long time...

Every once in a while when I get a moment's peace, I find myself thinking about aspects of my youth that I dearly miss. I've often opined about them here. Topics like missing the concept of truly "free" time, bemoaning adult responsibilities, and the like are frequent fodder for my meandering blogs.

Recently, however, I find myself missing the one aspect of my youth that can't simply be blamed on growing up, and that is losing dear friends.

Now, I'm not talking about untimely death or anything so morbid. I refer to something even more unfortunate and sorrowful. I mean losing touch with or alienating people who mean the world to me, or at least in some way keep me connected to the happy memories of my past, through pride, selfishness, or worse - apathy.

It has often been said that one's life is like a play, with each player having their entrances and exits. I don't buy it. If life is like a play, then I'm the star and director, and I want every cast member to stay on the stage somewhere and end with a full cast finale.

Over the years, I have lost some very dear friends – some who I even consider family – to poor decisions or even LACK of decisions on my part. Through my own actions or inactions, important people in my life have fallen aside, and that's a thought that pains me like no other. Be it by a hasty word said in anger or a simple e-mail or phone call I neglected to return, these souls have drifted from my life like a balloon whose string I lost my grasp on.

The wonders of technology have enabled me to reconnect with many of these people. Family and friends I haven't heard from in weeks, months, and in many cases, years can now be reached by a few simple keystrokes. MySpace, E-mail, instant messaging have all made it easier than ever to regain my grip on many of those balloon strings and tie them to my wrists. Easy enough for the ones who just drifted away, but what of the ones I drove away and thus refuse to return?

There aren't many of them. I may be irritating from time to time, but I rarely anger people to the point of them not wanting anything to do with me. There are a few, though, who I have driven away or have driven themselves away – and their absence hurts most of all.

As time marches on, the reasons for it become irrelevant. Even the details of the situations leading up to our parting ways fade to a vague memory, but the emotional wounds do not as easily heal. I constantly reexamine the reasons why.

Was I wrong?

If so, did I apologize enough?

Sincerely enough? Should I contact them out of the blue and try again, and risk having the door shut in my face again?

In the end, I do what most do. I sit back and wait for the other party to come around. Hoping…praying that they will see what I see: that it hurts far more not to be there than to endure the memories of words that fade into nothing over time.

Friendships – TRUE friendships – are more precious than diamonds, more necessary than air, and more fulfilling than the greatest of selfish joys. I do not discard them willingly. They must be wrestled from me. Torn forcibly from my hands. But I will not force myself on someone. If they choose to discard my friendship, it will always be here for them to reclaim. Tattered and torn a bit around the edges, perhaps, but waiting to be rediscovered and rebuilt for them alone.

By now I'm sure you all surmise that I'm referring to a specific incident/person(s). Why else would someone write a melancholy blog like this. Yes, I've been thinking of a dear, lost friend lately, whom I truly miss.

I'm to cowardly to force myself on anyone, so I wait like a puppy looking out the window, hoping.

Someday, this grand prize of a friendship will be picked up, brushed off, and displayed proudly again.

Until then, one of my most treasured trophies lies in the dustbin

Weekend at Paulie’s ...

Many of you likely saw my bulletin on Friday asking for volunteers to help me paint the town red (or whatever color was cheapest) this past weekend, as Sonya and the kids headed out to her cousin's graduation party. I received several invitations from friends relatively close by, and a handful of condolences from folks impractically far away. All were greatly appreciated, and a few of them turned into wonderful evenings of escapism for me. I had a great weekend!

Thursday night, I came home from work about 11pm and stayed up until 5am re-recording myself singing my arrangement of Rainbow Connection – all 4 parts – into my computer. As fatigue caught up with me and the empty beer cans piled around me (actually, only 4), my confidence in my new recoding grew. Funny thing about beer, fatigue and confidence… I woke up the next morning about ½ late for work and listened to the recording on my laptop when I got there. Not exactly how I remembered it. No, not a drunken tirade expounding on the merits of Jaleel White's deep and subtext laden portrayal of Urkel or anything, but just not quite as good as I remember. Oh well, I had fun doing it, even if it did end up as a waste of 5 hours.

The next day was my usual Friday schedule: work both jobs from 10am till 10:30pm. Nothing surprising there, though it was pleasantly calm and peaceful at Custom Music for a change. I checked my e-mail on a break at Blockbuster to find an invite from Nyma suggesting I join her and husband Todd to watch her brother's band perform at a bar nearby. I also got a message from Melanie asking for my cell number, to which I replied in kind. Woo-hoo! Stuff to do!

After work, I called Nyma's cell, only to get her voice mail, then headed towards the bar she mentioned by way of Meijer to return a cartful of deposits and grab some bottled water for the next day's quartet rehearsal. I got a quick call back saying they were just leaving, as her husband, Todd, had to be up early for work, and that her brother had just announced his engagement to his long-time girlfriend. I sent my congrats and suggested we do something some other time.

Almost immediately, I get a call from my old friend Melanie suggesting I head downtown to pick her up and we head out for a drink. We reconnected via MySpace about a year ago, but hadn't actually SEEN each other in about 10 years. This was a perfect chance to fill in the gaps of those 10 years, so I head downtown and pick her up. I suggest that we find a nice, comfy, hole-in-the-wall bar rather than a crowded trendy place to sit and chat, and I recall my favorite little bar in Corktown with just such an atmosphere. We headed out Michigan Ave. to Casey's Pub, in the shadows of Briggs Stadium and spent the next 2 hours catching op on our kids, jobs, old friends, high school memories, and life in general. We had a great time laughing, talking, and listening to the choice tunes played by 93.1 Doug FM at a loud, yet tasteful volume. We departed about 1:30am and hit the White Castle on the way to dropping her home. It was just what I needed.

I got up about 10am the next morning and immediately started cleaning. The guys in the quartet, I'm sure, wouldn't be shocked to find the house in a bit of disarray, as they know I have 2 kids home for the summer, but I wanted the living room to be at least usable and tidy so I wouldn't be distracted by the chores that lie ahead. I spent the next 2 hours putting away toys, rearranging piles of stuff to go through, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom, and putting pop and water in the fridge to cool.

The guys show up and we start out on a few standards and polecats (songs most every barbershopper knows) just to make sure we have some kind of repertoire for our upcoming gig later this month. We take a break for a few and start to work on the trickier, less standard stuff we want to do for the Harmony Hideaway a few days earlier. We don't want to get on stage in front of hundreds of barbershoppers, sing songs they all know, and have them sit there thinking, "I could do that better". It's inevitable that they'll think that regardless, but we'd prefer they don't all know the arrangement, at least.

We decide what we need to work on for the next rehearsal after Lou gets back from Internationals, and hit the Oakland Mall to grab some outfits.

I love Steve & Barry's. Good quality, good style, DIRT F*CKING CHEAP. We grab 4 different colors of polo shirts, a nice dressy shirt for each of us, and thankfully, they've brought back the Hawaiian shirt the quartet had before the new guys, so they each get one. The line is long and moving a bit slowly, so of course, we had to sing. We did Down Our Way and Wild Irish Rose as we waited and paid. After that we head into the mall proper. There's a great, echoey chamber just in front of JCPenny. I drag the guys and say, "Okay guys – Darkness". We tanked up and did the Darkness on the Delta tag and rang it like nobody's business! It echoed for at least 15 seconds afterward throughout the mall.

From there we grabbed a bite at A&W, discussed barbershop harmony, the physics of sound, how to ring chords, and the function of overtones. My GOD! I would have NEVER been able to talk like this with the old versions of this quartet! We headed back to our cars, stopping in front of the Coney Island to sing…well, you know. And parted ways. On the way Back, Lou suggested I join him at Crash Landing after work for Karaoke. Perfect! Just want I needed! I dropped Lou at his car and headed to work at the video store.

After work, I head out to Crash Landing, a medium sized bar/restaurant in Madison Heights I was introduced to by a friend when she worked there. I sit down next to Lou and was introduced via shouts and gestures over the loud music to Lou's friends John, Connie, and someone else who's name escapes me. I dig through the catalogue and intentionally avoiding the Sintara section, which is my standard choice, decide on 2 tunes – Zoot Suit Riot (a favorite of mine) and Rainbow Connection.

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I have a shitty solo voice. I'm great with a group and small ensembles, but alone, I sound like shit, so for Rainbow Connection, I figured I'd break up the flow of drunken tone-deaf hacks and showy divas by doing it entirely in my quite convincing Kermit the Frog voice. It was very well received.

There was one kid who did some song I'd never heard. Something like "The Day the squirrel went berserk in the First Self-Righteous Church" that had me rolling on the floor! Later my assumptions of a kindred spirit were confirmed when he did "White & Nerdy". How the HELL did I miss THAT in the catalogue!? Lou and I caught up with him on the way out and chatted with him in the parking lot for a while. We exchanged tests of geektitude and passed with flying colors. By the time I had stopped by Taco Bell and got home, I had an add request from him on my MySpace.

I had had a great weekend. When I awoke the next day about 10am, I started to realize how much I missed Sonya and the kids. I had a message from Sonya on MySpace that she had had a rough weekend with them, so I figured I needed to spend the day getting the house spic and span so she'd have less to worry about upon getting home. For the next 8 hours, I cleaned the cat box, swept and mopped the floors, changed the bed, did the laundry, weeded the garden, mowed the lawn, cleaned off the kitchen table, tidied up the rest of the house, and spent 3 hours eroding Mt. Dishmore.

They all got home about 10pm. We got the kids off to bed with little trouble, talked for about an hour, and went to bed watching Bowling for Columbine to prepare for seeing Sicko later this week.

Thanks to everyone who made this a great weekend for me! Now I have the next 3 nights in a row (which never happens anymore) to spend with my family and have just as good a time on the other end of the social spectrum with them!