December 24th

Wow.

My blog production is really down. I've only written about half of what I did last year.
I could sit here and wonder why...or I could just sit and look into the eyes of the woman I love, the one who has changed my life.

It's Christmas. Just thought I'd pop in and wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Go enjoy your life. I am.

It was one year ago today...

I moved to DeKalb.

Tim and I had spent the day before packing the truck, my brothers nowhere to be found. We'd had dinner at Vincent's Pizza Park, then back to his place for a few hours sleep before driving overnight to my new home.

It'd been a month since I'd seen Julie, and I missed her so much. When we got off 88, we stopped at the store where she worked and she was so happy to see me. We got there earlier than expected. She still had to work, while Tim and I went to my new home.

Tim grabbed a few hours sleep on the couch while I took Cory to the store to get a gift for his girlfriend. I was still running on pure adrenaline and wouldn't crash for another 12 hours. By the time we got back, Julie was off work, and her and the rest of the troops were there to unload everything. What took me a day to load, just the two of us, everyone got done in a matter of hours.

The party that night at Fatty's was a great time.

In the year since I've moved here, there have been a number of firsts. Julie and I watched the first African-American President elected. We celebrated our first Christmas and New Years together. I was there for the birth of Julie's first grandchild. I made her eggs (something I have no stomach for) for breakfast, cooking them for the first time. I got a job after being out of work for a year and a half.

I buried my mother.

Even today, we still have firsts, although, as Julie said, those firsts are fewer and farther between. I made her muffins yesterday, for her lunch at work, and I've never made muffins before.

There's still so many more things we have to do. Cory and Hailey's graduations. Jessica and Brad's wedding. Our wedding. Moving...somewhere.

There will be good times, but there will also be bad ones. Her cat, Rico Suave, one of the finest models I've had the good fortune to photograph, is dying, and will likely be put down tomorrow. It's better than his suffering, I know, but it won't be easy on Julie. I will be there with her, by her side, as we say goodbye to one stubborn cat.

I hope there are many, many more good times than bad ones. The future is still wide open ahead of us, but for now...it's just been one year.

On a quiet Sunday evening...

...I'm sitting in Julie's living room, writing a blog entry.

Hailey's upstairs, gone to bed early. She's got to get up early tomorrow to get ready for school (it takes her longer nowadays, since she's gotta look good for her new boyfriend).

Julie's downstairs, also in bed, more than likely asleep (unless the phone rings again). She's got to get up early to go to work at 8 tomorrow morning.

No one else is around, save for Kadie Madison (the dog), asleep in the chair next to me and Bob (the cat) asleep on the floor near my feet. Frederico Suave (the other cat) was here a moment ago, but has stepped out of the room. Odds are, he's getting rest as well, so he can wake us up sometime in the middle of the night with his "mrowing".

Wait. I take that back. I hear him in the kitchen, mrowing, and Julie downstairs yelling at him to shut up.

This past week saw two anniversaries. First, Monday marked the one-year anniversary of our engagement. It's not a lie when I say I love her more and more every day. We marked the day in a simple way: She gave me a skillet. I gave her a small heart and a chocolate bar. We're so romantic.

Today marks her friends Troy and Amy's one year anniversary. Julie was looking for a date for the wedding, and I offered to be that date. Look where we are now.

Yeah, the house in Pittsburgh still hasn't sold. Once it sells, I can use the money to pay off my bills (and get the collection agencies off my ass), but until then, I'm making enough to keep my head just under water.

Old news, I know. Sorry if I repeat myself.

Today was nice. We slept in (even though I was up for a little while overnight, that extra hour made up for it) and got up somewhat early to go out for breakfast. It was nice. Julie and I hadn't had much of a chance to do that as of late.

We came home to enjoy a quiet day around the house, even though I did sneak off for about a half-hour to get everyone some caramel apples from Jonamac Orchard. Julie'd been wanting some for awhile, and I figured today was a good day to run out there.

We watched the race at Talladega , which was...boring. Yeah, there were a couple crashes, but no one was hurt. Julie was even bored, and she loves watching the race from Talladega.

Dinner was simple. Julie wanted ice cream. Hailey and I had some leftover sausage biscuits from last night.

Now everyone's gone to bed, and I'm sitting here, enjoying the quiet with the dog and cats.
It's been a good day.

Your monthly update.

Wow.

It's been a long time since I've posted something, it seems. It's amazing what life and love can do to a bitter, somewhat-older man.

Case in point: I had my 42nd birthday a few weeks back. Years past, I'd blog that I was dreading my birthday, or that I didn't want any fuss made over it, just acknowledge it and move on.

This year, no rants or raves. In fact, it was the best birthday I've had in...sheesh...at least 25 years.

Julie and the kids threw me a surprise party. My first ever surprise party, in fact, and the first birthday party I'd had on my birthday since I was 15.

It was great. Julie had to keep making a fuss at work that day, telling every customer she'd see while I was in earshot that it was my birthday. Mind you, that was her way of getting back at me for what Hailey and I did for her birthday (just because we took some balloons...about a dozen...in and tied them to her wrist while she was at checkout had nothing to do with it).

I worked on my birthday. I was actually glad, for a change, to be working on my birthday. Normally, I'd take the day off and not tell a soul. Driving home, Julie kept texting me, asking when I'd be back. I gave her the time the GPS said (a rather handy little feature), and I had a hunch something was up.

Inside the garage, when I got home, was streamers and balloons and a banner that said "Happy 42nd!" I started laughing and smiling and didn't stop...in fact, it only got louder when I opened the door inside to find the hallway downstairs covered in streamers. It was great!

It was Jessica's idea to have the surprise party, insisting that everyone jump out and yell when I got upstairs. My love was sitting on the floor with Curtis, saying that they had to run to the store and'd be back in a minute. Then they jumped out, which made me smile. It was a wonderful feeling, to have someone care enough for you, love you enough, to go to these ends. It'd never happened before, and even now, I still smile when I think of it.

Now I'm 42, and I'm watching the leaves change and the weather turn colder. I think we had one day of Indian Summer this year, this past Wednesday in fact. It was in the mid 60's, and the sun was shining. It proceeded to rain for the next two days.

I want to go back to Pittsburgh for a long weekend soon. I decided it's time to close the storage locker out there and bring the rest of my stuff (that I'm gonna keep...a lot of it will go to Goodwill or the Salvation Army or somesuch). I see no sense in paying the monthly rental fee on that locker. With Mum gone (some of the stuff in there was hers too), it's time to do the final purge and move on.

Nevermind the fact that I've been jonesing for a Primanti Bros. sammich for the last three months. It's been too long since I've had my fix.

I screwed up my left hand a week or so ago. I think I sprained it or pulled a muscle or something. It's been sore. I have trouble straightening it out completely. There's a minor twinge every now and then, but not that much, and not enough to bother me. It's made typing difficult sometimes, and I never really realized how much I use my left hand. After I broke my right hand a few years back, I guess I came to rely on it more and more. It's tender right now, but getting better.

Hailey wants to go to the movies, and I'm her chauffer. I'm gonna finish my tea and then get ready to take her. You might not hear from me for another month, but just remember...I'm doing okay.

An unfinished symphony, of a sort.

There is something magical about night driving, especially in the hours before dawn.

The world isn't awake, and for the most part, not ready to awaken. Everyone is still wrapped in the safe slumber of Morpheus' arms. Few brave souls are out, either their day just starting or finally ending.

You can look around a little when you drive at night. Fewer cars on the street means you can get a quick glance to the left or the right, inside the houses (mostly dark) or businesses (lit but empty). It's so different than the world of daylight, when things are awake and open and ready for business. It's much more honest. No one puts up a facade, hiding their true selves. Their guard down, we see things for what they truly are.

The street lights shine differently in the time before the world awakens. When they first come on in the evening, they cast shadows differently because people are still moving around and there's still things going on. Lights shine a little brighter right before the sun comes up. Perhaps they realize there's a light brighter than them, so for their last chance to shine until the next evening, they want to make their presence felt, their illuminations leave a mark on a world that doesn't always realize they're there, or perhaps their glow taken for granted.

That light was appreciated by one witness, at least, this morning. A lone driver, traveling down semi-vacant streets, passing only a few other weary souls, savoring the moment. Classical music playing softly from the radio, the driver bears lone witness to a world still not awake, still at peace with itself, enjoying said quiet, and peace.

Yes, it is beautiful, before the dawn. I would invite you to savor the moment with me, but I know you're still asleep. That's fine. Let your weary head rest against your pillow. I will join you in slumber soon, but for now...

Hump-day funnies of a sort.

Wednesday afternoon, September 16th.
I've got a day off, and a desire to blog.

There's been a couple...funny...events to happen the last few days that, while (at least one is) embarrassing, they do deserve being posted to preserve for posterity...if you'll pardon the alliteration.

To wit:

Sunday afternoon, Julie, Cory, Jackie (Cory's girlfriend) and I were out for a late Summer's drive. We were headed to Jonamac Orchard for some apple goodness. Seriously. They've some of the best apple cider I've ever had, their apple donuts are yummy and the dumplings are delicious!

We'd visited DeKalb's Kite Fest earlier in the day (a little too late, I fear...it failed to impress me like it had, probably because there were no "cool" kites on display like the five-story one they had last year), and left about mid-afternoon to go to the orchard.

En route, we saw windmills off in the distance. See, there'd been plans for windmill farms around here for some time, but some of the residents are against the plan. I don't get it myself. I think they're graceful things of beauty that are cool to watch, but also generate electricity on nothing but air!

Folks tend to forget that electric generators are still oil or gas powered, and windmills are more environmentally friendly (until they rust out and fall apart, but what else is new).

I digress. Julie wanted me to drive over and see them, which I happily obliged.

The windmills (still under construction and not working) were in the middle of what used to be a corn field (a sight not uncommon in this part of the world). Turning onto a stone road (my poor car has taken so much abuse from such roads over the past year), we saw towers, nearly 400 feet tall, just sitting there.

Julie wanted to stop. I knew nothing good could come from this, but I obliged.

We got out (well, Julie and Cory got out first. Jackie and I stayed in the car for a minute because we're slightly more sensible) and they were looking around at these towering behemoths.

Did I mention they're building these near a corn field?
Did I also mention that Julie's been trying to get me into a cornfield for the past year?
Do I really have to spell out where this is going?

Julie grabs my arm. Cory starts pushing. I ain't no lightweight, and if I don't wanna move, I ain't gonna, but they were persistent. I put up a fight...but they shoved me into a cornfield! There I am...City Boy...standing two rows into a corn field.

What. The. Fuck.

Julie's all happy with herself and insists on getting pictures. Joy and rapture. Evidence that I was standing inside the field, no doubt trespassing on private property. Lesson One: NEVER GET EVIDENCE YOU'RE SOMEWHERE YOU AIN'T SUPPOSED TO BE! Even I know this.

But she's all happy, and so is Cory. I swear, they're gonna be the death of me one of these days...

At least I got an amazing apple dumpling out of the deal.

---

So I've been working for the past month installing new computers. I've been traveling around Northern Illinois, going from insurance office to insurance office, unboxing, installing and reboxing new computers. It ain't brain surgery, kids. It's a good, honest job that has me hustling and sweating but getting paid pretty well for it.

The last couple weeks, I've spent most of my time in the Rockford area. I'll admit, I haven't been up that way much since moving out here, but thankfully, I have my GPS & Google Maps to get me where I need to go.

I've done hundreds of installations in my day (I am not exaggerating that number, either). You get into a certain rhythm of doing things, and once you get the flow, you just don't think about it and just do it.

The only thing is, while working back at CMU, I was able to wear jeans. This job, my attire is "business casual", something I haven't had to have in my wardrobe for a long, long time. I've had to buy polo shirts and trousers, since it's been...ahem...some time since I wore my old pants, and they must've shrunk in the closet over the years.

Yeah, let's leave it at that, shall we?

So I'm at a client's site on Tuesday in Belvedere (just outside Rockford), doing my thing. I'm moving at a pretty good clip. I have five systems, six monitors, and six printers to install. (The printers are a bitch. They take 20 minutes just to initialize from when you plug them in, so I try and unbox two of them first thing in the morning to get them going before I do anything else.) I don't waste time. I don't sit around and wait for a system to reboot. I'm going.

Ahem.

It was shortly after lunch. I'd had my peanut butter and cinnamon apple jelly sammiches out in the car (on natural wheat bread...I'm almost eating healthy!) and was working on the fourth system of the day. I bent down to pick up the printer off the floor...

...when I heard a RIP!

I'd split the ass right out of my pants!

No one else was in that particular office when I split my seams, so I stood right up and felt my butt. It was a BIG rip, pretty much the whole seam split apart. Best part is, these slacks are brand new! I'd barely had them for a month!

My experience hadn't prepared me for this, and it sure as Hell wasn't covered in my training.

I went into the one agent's office and said "forgive my bluntness, but there's no other way for me to say this. I just split my pants apart and have to call my home office on how to proceed.

Belvedere's about an hour's drive North of DeKalb. It was too far for me to go home to get new pants and come back the same day. The install was scheduled to last a day and a half, but I was on a roll and didn't want to stop.

My office told me to find a store and buy new pants. Simple solution (even though it'd be an unexpected hit on my budget), but the closest store I knew of was a Wally Mart I'd past about 15 miles up the road.

The agent (whom I likely embarrassed, even though I told her she could laugh at me...since I was laughing myself) told me there was a department store at the other end of the business complex I was in, in the other direction.

This is where it gets interesting.

I excuse myself, get in the car and drive about 500 feet to the place. Walk inside (clenching my butt cheeks hoping it'll help hide the huge gaping hole displaying my boxers for the world to see) and find the mens wear department. After a quick look (despite current storyline in Cathy) I found a pair my size and high-tailed it to the fitting room.

They fit. Good enough for me.

I step outside, new slacks still on, and find a clerk.

I'm not sure what went on inside the mind of this poor sales clerk, but if I was her, I'd be laughing my ass off in some corner of the subconscious.

"Hi," I said, in my friendliest, no-I-am-not-insane voice. "This is gonna sound weird, I know, but I'm a contractor working at a job site down the street. I was in the office and bent over, and the seat of my pants split out completely. I just tried these on in the fitting room and I was wondering if I could leave them on to pay for them since I really don't have any place to change from my now-torn pants to these back at work."

I can hear the howls of derisive laughter echo through the Internets...

After a few seconds (certainly needed to regain her composure), she just said to remove all the tags, and she'd go with me up to customer service and we could check out up there. No doubt, she wanted to see the reactions of the customer service staff and savor their laughter as well.

Did I mention I'd called Julie before I got in the store and told her too? She sure thought it was hilarious as well!

Paid for the pants, thanked everyone for their help (understanding I'd likely made their dull day just that much better and gave them a great story to share) and made it back to the agent's office in about 15 minutes.

I got the install finished before they closed for the day, earning myself today off.

Late last night, I posted my Facebook status as worked hard today to earn tomorrow off.

My love, the woman I adore with all my heart, couldn't resist and posted a comment saying So hard you split your pants!

Truer words were never spoken.

What a long, strange trip it's been

Sunday night, September 6th. 10:23 PM.

It's been awhile since I've blogged, hasn't it? I'm surprised anyone actually visits this page anymore (aside from the usual crew of stalkers, and you know who you are).

I guess I should play "catch-up", shouldn't I? Let you know how things are going, what's going on, things like that. Where to begin...

I'm working now. Yeah, after being unemployed, it feels great. I'm traveling around Northern Illinois, going from job site to job site, unboxing and installing new computer systems, only to turn around and rebox the old systems to be returned. It's good work, and I've been having a great time doing it.

Julie and I are doing great. I love her a little more with each passing day. It's been strange, not being around each other all the time, but my working can only be a good thing.

The house in Pittsburgh still hasn't sold. I can't wait too much longer to sell it. Bills are still piling up and they aren't going away. I need the money from selling the house to pay them off. I hope it sells soon...

What else is there? Life is good, mostly. It could be better, but that will happen in time. I'm happy, I smile occasionally, and I'm with the woman I love.

So I don't blog that much anymore. I really have nothing to say, I suppose. I'll continue to post things when they seem important, or when I need to vent about something, but if you don't hear from me, understand it's because...and this is the damndest thing...I'm living my life offline.

Sure, I go to Facebook. I play some games there, but I don't spend too much time there.
I go check out the latest geek stuff, keep on top of the latest software, but usually I do that right before I call it a night.
I haven't been to Storm Artists in months. I went to DeviantArt once this past year (snuck in under their radar) but that place has changed so much, it doesn't feel the same anymore.

It's all good. I'm all right. If you're obsessing over me, or worried about me, or just stalking me, I'm good. I'm happy. I have Julie, and I don't really need anything else in my life (well, except for my music, maybe).

So I'm around, even if I don't say anything.

If I haven't said it recently...thank you. To all my friends, those who've supported me and stood by me over the years, who've sent me their love and good vibrations...thank you. It's meant so much to me, and words cannot express how much I appreciate it, and how much I love you all for it.

And to Julie...You know how much I love you. We were looking at wedding bands today, and I felt a quiver in my stomach when you tried yours on. It was a good thing, my love. You are the one for me, and I can't wait until I wear my wedding band...tell you "I do"...and we become husband and wife.

(That was my schmoopy-poopy moment for the night. Sorry if you had to suffer through that.)

That's all I have to say for now except...goodnight, and sweet dreams.

I can has job

Wednesday evening, August 12th, 2009. 8PM.

I'm sitting in my hotel room at the Baymont in Bloomington, Illinois.

If the title of this post didn't give it away, after over a year unemployed, I have a new job.

I'm working as a contractor upgrading computers for a major insurance company. I'll be a road warrior, traveling around Northern Illinois, but it's a job.

My new employer (it's rather nice to say that) is having a two-day training session for us here in Bloomington before we start the installs next week. It'll be two days per week for the first couple weeks, then we should be up to speed with four-days-a-week.

Right now, there's five of us all told. I don't know the other installers yet...I'll meet 'em tomorrow. Tonight was just a "get here and be ready" kind of deal.

I do miss Julie. She's about a two hour drive north of here, but I won't be gone that long. It's not like it was last year when I'd be gone for a couple weeks back in Pittsburgh. Besides, Kathy's coming up for bingo tomorrow night, so she'll have company.

But it's a job. Finally, I'll be working again. It's been so long...

Remember that list I said I had on my white board at home? One of the entries has been checked off...I have a job.

Just watch the video.

First, let me start this post by saying that the love of my life is not retarded.

Having said that, I invite you to watch this video from Youtube:

Here's the story: Julie calls me this morning and speaks at about 10,000 words per second. I didn't understand her, and being the loving and dutiful boyfriend/fiancee person that I am, I say "hun?".

She proceeds to tell me that there's a mouse in the house, and Bob (the dumb cat) has been playing with it. Apparently, he grabbed it by the tail and sent it flying some six feet into the other room.

I proceed to tell her that he's doing his job, and before I can explain that he'll toy with it for awhile, she tells me she doesn't want to see the mouse hurt.

She wants me to come over and get the mouse before Bob can kill it.

...

I walk over (takes me all of about 30 seconds) and she tells me the mouse is under the cedar chest in the living room. I feel around under there with the marshmallow roaster she gave me (but not the pointy end, because that'll hurt the mouse) but I can't find it. It wasn't there.

I started to say "when you smell something bad, that means it's dead and we can find it then", but I couldn't, because she's still worried that Bob will kill it.

It. Is. A. Mouse. Bob. Is. A. Cat.

Am I the only one not to pick up on the obvious correlation here?

I couldn't find it, so I headed back to my place. About two hours later, she calls again and says it's under the couch. Bob's pretty much useless at this point, so I have to come over again and see if I can "catch" the mouse.

Of course, I'm not to hurt the little rodent, whose ancestors brought down Europe by spreading the frickin' Plague, but I can't hurt it.

Yeah, this is gonna be fun.

I get over there, and the sectional soft is in sections in the living room, and I see a little gray thing dart in and out from under it. When we move the couch again, it runs out (past two cats, one too fat and lazy to move, and the other too stoopid to realize what it was) and starts to go in circles around the living room.

Julie's got the front door open (letting in God-knows what else) to try and shoo it outside. At one point, this purveyor of filth and disease tried to crawl up my pant leg (alas, that wasn't caught on video), before finally getting cornered in the kitchen.

It was about to go down in the basement (something I was trying like mad to avoid, since it could get lost for YEARS down there...nevermind the fact that Julie's room is in the basement...oh, that'd be just ducky), so I pin it's little head against the doorframe with a 20 pound bag of cat litter.

I could've ended the problem right there and then, but Julie had the camera out and was taping. The other last thing I want is video evidence of me committing mouseicide, so I use the pitcher she gave me to shoo it back a little. Hailey got the marshmallow roaster (still not allowed to use the pointy end to skewer the little rat...er, ah...mouse) and nudged it to me and the waiting container.

(There is video of the capture, yes, but it's not on Youtube...yet. I have to edit out one scene with Hailey's butt. Julie doesn't think she'd appreciate seeing it out there. I'll see if I can get the file and delete her bending over, then post it.)

I take it out into the yard to get rid of it, but then...well...you saw the video.

Julie grown attached to the little bastard!

I'm ready for her to pick it up and take it back inside to make a pet of it!

Sigh.

I do love her. She has a big, kind and caring heart. She's is wonderful.

Even if she did want to adopt a rat.

If you Google'd "Bing" and this came up, I'm sorry.

Due to popular request, the plans to cancel July have been postponed.

Okay, so you might've noticed my Facebook status from the other day was "just tried bing cherry iced tea. It's damn good!".

Before you go out to your local grocer to find this particular beverage, let me warn you: You ain't gonna find it, at least not easily.

A few months back, Julie and I took a trip to St. Charles, Illinois. It's not that far from here, about a half-hour or so east of here. There's some cute little antique shops she wanted to see, and (this may surprise you) I do enjoy antiquing every now and then.

One such little "antique mall" had a "store" called the Coffee Drop Shop. It's a mom-and-pop place that has pretty much anything and everything you'd want, provided you're looking for coffee or tea stuffs.

They must've had close to 100 different varieties of loose tea. I always loved tea, but it wasn't until D hooked me up with some loose tea years ago, I always stuck with the store-bought, pre-bagged variety. I limited myself, but no longer.

Among the teas they had, besides the standard orange pekoe, chai and Prince of Wales variety was Russian Caravan (very strong, but I love the flavor), Vietnamese (also strong, but I've yet to try it, as I prefer such teas in Winter), Root Beer Float (yes!) and Bing Cherry.

Bought a couple little bags of the last few I'd mentioned and brought them home, tossed 'em into the cupboard and forgot about them.

The other night, I was thirsty for some tea, and remembered the flavored teas I'd bought before. The clerk suggested I try the Root Beer Float over ice. I put the pot of water on, added a teaspoon to my teaball (some might call it an infuser, but it's my teaball), and let it steep before pouring it into the glass with ice.

The aroma was subtle, as was the taste, but as it cooled, the root beer flavor was definitely there! I gave some to Julie's friend Kathy (who hates Root Beer) and after she tried it, she said she'd found "a root beer she could drink".

Yesterday was the Bing Cherry test. Same procedure, different tea.

I've a glass of it in front of me, and let me tell you, it's got a great cherry aroma and taste!

I'd offer you some, but they've yet to perfect sending liquids over IP. Still, if you find yourself at some little mom-and-pop tea shop, and you see it, give it a try. You never know what you'll find.

Thank goodness it's August

I've decided I don't like July.

When my buddy Sterling assumes his rightful place as Overlord of this world, but before he gives me my own country to rule under his wise, benevolent yet vengeful fist (although I may no longer request Canada...I may ask for something a bit more tropical for my ladylove), I'm going to ask he abolishes the month of July from his calendar.

July has nothing good going for it. In the Northern Hemisphere, it's the hottest month of the year (yet I'm asking for a tropical paradise for Julie...I guess love does make us do things we normally wouldn't), yet it's the coldest for those south of the equator. It serves no purpose (fireworks celebrations will no longer be on the Fourth, but rather Feb. 14th, in honor of our great and powerful Oz...er, ah...Sterl), and would be better off forgotten.

At least, that's my take on the month. I've no love for it.

The last few July's have been bad for me. Just read through the archives in this blog for that most evil of month, and you'll see what I mean.

Three years ago was when My Kid's problems began in earnest. Two years ago, I started having car (and certain other) problems. Last year, yes, Julie was in my life, but she lost her Grandma, and (while not as painful), the car battery died.

Last month was one of the lowest points I've hit so far. My bank account was overdrawn...seriously overdrawn...for most of the month. It's not much better now, but I'm hopeful I can make rent (maybe).

I had an offer for the house that was withdrawn about as quickly as it was made. Nevermind the fact that they were low-balling me on the price, but they also wanted me to help them pay for it. They wanted me to give them more than 10 percent back. I was helping them pay to buy my own home!

Mind you, I considered it, but my Realtor told me it was blatantly illegal, and since neither they nor I would budge, they backed off.

You know it's bad when ya can't even sell a $50,000 home.

I was in a shell for a good bit of the month. I was grumpier than usual (ask Julie, she'll tell ya). I didn't return calls (I'm sorry again, Sterl...my lord), and I can blame it only on one thing: July.

The month is evil, I sweartadoG.

The only saving grace has been, so far, it's been a cool and comfortable Summer. The temperature hasn't been that bad, so I haven't had to run my air conditioning that much (which is good, since I haven't been able to afford the electric bill).

It's August now. While things haven't made a complete 180 with the flip of a calendar page, I'm hopeful. There is good news (which I will officially post later this month...watch this space) on the horizon and I'm always hopeful for a better day, even when I'm posting blogs so depressing that no one can comment without reaching for an anti-depressant.

If I haven't said it before, I am so thankful for Julie. My angel. The one who, whether she knows it or not, has kept me sane and (mostly) smiling. She has her own problems, but we're doing our best to get through them together.

That is, as long as she's not making me watch chick flicks. She made me watch The Notebook today! And she put it in with a smile on her face!

Kathy wanted to watch it, so they put it in while I'm over at my place and call me over to watch it with them. I'm in a house with two wailin' women watching some sappy piece of trite, and I made one little joke (a response to something one of the actors said) and I got shushed TWICE.

Okay, maybe I was wrong. Maybe the month of Hell that is July wasn't over for me this afternoon. Still, if watching that movie ended my suffering for the month...

...nah. Wasn't worth it. ;)

Here's to August. Let's see what it has to offer.

Celebrating independence means you can do it on the 5th, too.

Note: After my last depressing post, I went in and checked my archives.
I'd started writing this back on July 7th, but never finished it.
It's also my 300th post, believe it or not.

To spare you from seeing the last post, I've uploaded it and changed the date so this will be first.

Last weekend, America had another birthday.

Julie and I talked about what to do on the 4th, and she was torn between driving up to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin (her cousin told her there was a pretty nice fireworks display up there), or staying home and watching the NASCAR race at Daytona.

I was cool with either decision, but I did decide to surprise her with a picnic dinner either way. I'd gone out a few days before and picked up some of the best ham (applewood smoked ham...incredible stuff), turkey and cheese for sammiches, some fresh fruit, some snacks and drinks, and decided to have everything ready for the Fourth.

She decided she wanted to go to Lake Geneva, so we got in the car and went.

Lake Geneva, for those who've never been there, is big. Very big. About 15 miles across big. There's the village of Lake Geneva to the north, and other smaller villages around its shore, along with private Summer homes. The wealthy and elite from Chicago have, since the late 1900's, have traveled to Lake Geneva to get away from their hectic, busy, wealthy lives.

Oh, to live that kind of life. But I digress.

We got there and wandered around the village of Lake Geneva (where we'd gone for a romantic weekend getaway last September), and found one of our favourite stores: Constant Cravings. They make the BEST popcorn in so many flavors, you can't decide which you want.

Well, Julie could decide. She knew right away what she wanted, but I was the proverbial kid in the candy store. I finally decided on a white chocolate caramel popcorn that I'm still nursing. It's damn good.

Around 6ish, we decided to drive around the lake to the village of Fontana, where the fireworks were going to be set off. We get there...and that's where the fun begins.

Seems they've got things barricaded off pretty well. You wanna park near the beach to see the fireworks? That'll be $15, plus (and this was the dealbreaker) if you did park there, don't expect to be able to leave until 1 hour after the fireworks were over.

Yeah, right.

We went back around the lake a bit to Williams Bay, where there's a little beach, a small park, and some parking. Got out the chairs, the picnic I made, and we sat on the shore and watched the world go by. It was wonderful, well, except for the damn gnats which decided to buzz me. Constantly. Even the citronella candle I bought didn't deter them. They were persistent.

There was also some question whether we'd be able to see the fireworks. Julie went over and talked to some locals (very hoihty-toity) but got them to tell her there was a church a little ways down past the beack in Fontana where we could park for free and watch the bigger fireworks with no problem.

The picnic dinner was done by this point, so we packed the car and drove around...and had a great view, mostly. The lower fireworks were obscured by the treeline, but the bigger ones looked good. I brought the camera and the tripod, and took a bunch of cool shots.

After it was over, we drove home...an adventure in and of itself. Let's just say there was a detour that ended up taking us halfway toward Chicago, and leave it at that.

The next day, Sunday, Julie had to work for a bit. While there, she found out one of the neighboring communities firework displays were canceled Saturday due to rain. (It did rain a good bit in DeKalb, but the rain seemed to stop when we hit Wisconsin. I personally credit the Wisconsin visitor's bureau with making sure the tourists didn't get wet.)

That evening, Julie and I packed our folding chairs and the dog (which might not have been the smartest move...I'll explain) and drove about 20 minutes over to Rochelle. We got there early, walked around the park and watched them set up the fireworks in the field across the way.

We decided to get a better parking spot, and moved to the other side of the road, right next to the "road" (really, it wasn't a road, but more of a grass ramp into the field) where they were coming in and out to make the things that go bang and boom and people go ooh and aah. (How many different ways can you think of to refer to fireworks? HMM?).

When the display started, we were right there, front and center...but I didn't have my tripod. S'all right. I balanced my camera on my lap the best I could, and took some decent shots.

But Julie was left holding Kadie, her half chihuahua/half shih-tzu, seven+ pound dog who really dislikes loud noises. I think Kadie spent the whole show under Julie's blanket, shivering, praying to whatever little doggie God she has that it would end soon and she wouldn't get splattered...

There were more bugs (did I mention I don't like the outdoors when there's bugs around?), a good bit of people, and some nice fireworks. A cool way to end the weekend.

Oh, and I could be evil and make you go to my Flickr page to see the photos I posted, but to be nice (for a change), I'll just link the slideshow here...

...and you can quote me on that.

James Ross Clemens, a cousin of mine was seriously ill two to three weeks ago in London but is well now. The report of my illness grew out of his illness, and the report of my death was an exaggeration

Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens), in a telegram sent from London to The New York Journal on 2 June 1897, after his obituary was published.


The above paragraph is from the book Immortal Words: History's Most Memorable quotations and the Stories Behind Them, a gift Julie gave me the other day. Okay, so we were at Borders, I saw it, and she bought it for me (if you wish to be technical), but I consider that a gift, and honestly, I consider it one of the best gifts anyone's ever given me.

The book combines three of my biggest interests: History (my major back in my college days), reference books (the old librarian in me always loves having little tidbits of knowledge at my disposal), and quotations. Somewhere, in my electronic archives, I have a file with quotes from various people, quips they've dropped that have stood the test of time.

I use the Twain quote here since it's been several weeks since I've posted anything. I haven't had anything to say, really, even though I know some of you still check here on a regular basis, waiting to hear good news from me (for a change). Alas, I can offer none.

I'm still out of work.
I'm broke beyond broke.
The house remains unsold (even though I've lowered the price below current market value).

My Realtor had a contractor check out the house, to see what needs done. Apparently, besides the things I knew were wrong with it, some time in the last seven-plus months, the roof began to wear out. After a particularly strong storm, shingles were blown off. Not the news I needed to hear.

I decided it'd be best to lower the price and offer it as a "fixer-upper", in hopes of luring some repairman or contractor to come in, take it off my hands, fix it up and make a nice profit for themselves. As of this writing, that hasn't happened yet.

I've also been waiting to hear back from this company I interviewed with a couple weeks back, to see if they want me in for a second interview. I e-mailed the HR rep I'd been in contact with a few days ago, and haven't heard back. That means, most likely, that once again my former employer isn't returning calls about my references. You'd think, after a year, they would just let it go and say "yes, he worked her from blah to blah". I'm trying to get on with my life, but can't until I can find new work. With them delaying things, it's making that very difficult for me.

I've left Pittsburgh, and odds are, if I go back, it'll just be for a few days visit, and nothing more. I'm here now, and I don't intend to go (until I can't afford my rent, and I get kicked out of my place, but that's another story for another time), so I don't see a problem. I've made my mistakes, I've owned up and accepted my responsibility in them, and I've apologized. What more do I have to do?

*sigh*

Sorry for the depressing post. They happen, more often than not these days.
I'll see if I can offer a more upbeat one next time.

In an alternate reality, I spent another quiet, dull, boring evening at home, surfing the web and flipping channels on the television.

You're familiar with the concept of alternate realities, aren't you? It's simple. Picture yourself standing on a corner, and you have to choose to go either left or right. You choose to go left, and your life goes that direction. Yet, some believe that in another dimension, quite like our own, you turned right, and your life took a completely different path.

I'm sure there's some alternate reality where I didn't get fired from CMU, where I never met Julie, and right now, I'm sitting at home back in Pittsburgh, bored out of my wits.

Boy, I'm sure glad I'm not that version of me. He missed out on a great day.

Julie had to work this morning, and on her break, we talked about taking the train into Chicago to go to the Field Museum after she got off work. That plan fell through: By the time she got off work, it'd be too late. We'd only get to spend about a half-hour in the museum, and that's nowhere near enough time.

Our friend Kathy was in town, up from Joliet, so we decided to take her car and go for a drive. We didn't have a destination in mind at the start, it was going to be just a "pick a direction and let's go for it" kinda deal.

Before we could decide, though, Kathy remembered reading about a hot air balloon rally up in Monroe, Wisconsin. I checked the map...it'd take about an hour and a half to get there, but it sounded fun. The decision was made. We left for Monroe!

And it was great.

We got there a little early, stopped in a couple grocery stores to get some stuff for snacking and sammiches, and then headed to the fairgrounds.

The show was free, and all they asked was $3 for parking. Nothing...and I mean nothing...can beat a low budget adventure.

We sat in the grandstand, ate, talked and waited. Around 6, they started to get the balloons ready. It's so cool, watching them inflate. So simple...so elegant.

Two events were planned for the night. The first was a Hare and Hound: One balloon would take off first and only after it was up could the others inflate to chase the "hare". The lead balloon would find an open field, drop the marker, and the others would see how close they could land near it.

The second, later that evening, after sunset, was a Balloon Glow. Each of the balloons, after they returned to the field, would inflate and stay tethered to the ground, but use their burners to make the balloons glow.

To say that their glow is beautiful is an understatement. It was majestic. Subtle and yet striking.

I took many photos...no worries, the good ones will be posted soon.

We all agreed, on the ride home, that it was an amazing day. It was unplanned...spontaneous...and wonderful. We all need days like these. They recharge and remind us just how wonderful the simple things in life can be.

But now...it's late, and I'm tired. Goodnight world. May your dreams be as beautiful as the glow of a hot air balloon after sundown.

Impressive...most impressive

Here's something that may (or may not) surprise you.
Sometime on Monday, I had my 10,000th visitor to this blog.

Wow. 10,000 hits. My ramblings have caused over 10,000 visits.

That should do something for my ego, but I'm not sure what.

It's a little after 11 here. On the east coast, it's already Wednesday. That's one of the things that has really fascinated me since I moved to DeKalb last November, the one-hour time difference.

Back East, folks are watching Letterman or Conan after Midnight, but here, we can see them and still be in bed before the next day. Shows start one hour earlier. I'll admit, my television watching habits have changed drastically over the years, but I find it fascinating to see the so-called "Prime Time" start at 7 here. Oh, and it's really weird to see the 10 0'clock shows start at 9. Still throws me off a bit.

Tonight was dinner and a movie here at my place. I made pasta Campanelle pasta with ground turkey tomato sauce. Made some cheesy garlic bread. Julie had to wait for Jessica to come back and pick up Curtis before she could come over to eat. I felt bad, pestering her, asking if she was there yet, but I didn't want dinner to be cold for her. Thankfully, it wasn't.

She's gone home and gone to bed, and I'm about to do the same myself. Gotta get up early tomorrow: Julie works from 6AM to 2PM, and I take her to work. It's no big deal. I'm happy to give her a lift.

Not much to add. Just thought it was kinda cool, going over 10,000 hits.

I am just a fan

There's a game tonight.

As I type this, in about two and a half hours, Game 7 of the Stanley Cup playoffs will be held in Detroit, between the Red Wings and the Pittsburgh Penguins. Being a native Pittsburgher, and a fan of the aforementioned flightless water foul, I'll be rooting for "my" team to win. I've even put on my Pens jersey in support, although I am well aware it'll have no bearing on the outcome.

I'm a fan. When it comes to sports, I'm not a rabid, dyed-in-the-wool, diehard, live for my team kinda guy. If the game's on, I'll watch it. When I was living in Pittsburgh, and there was nothing better to do and nothing better on worth watching, sure, the game would be on my television. If I had a few spare bucks (I vaguely remember those days), I'd even go down and watch a game live. Hockey tickets aren't cheap by any stretch of the imagination, even the nosebleed seats. That's why I'd go to more baseball games: I could see three or four games at the park for the price of one hockey game in the igloo.

Still, it tickles me to listen to fans who say "we won". Really? You helped your team to victory. You were out there, on the ice, on the field, sweating and giving your all to help hit the game winning run or goal or whatever? You were in the locker room, on the bench, training day after day after day to keep yourself in top physical shape so you could win?

No. All you did was sit on your ass in front of a television or listen to it on the radio or plop down in some sports bar with all the other drooling, drunken idiots and yell and scream and second guess the coaches. You wore your t-shirt or jersey or whatever and considered yourself a member of the team.

You sat there and cheered them on until they made one tiny mistake. A missed play. A dropped ball. A lost game. Then you came out and cursed them and swore you'd never watch them again and how could they be so stupid as to miss that? He was wide open? How could be drop that ball or let the puck go between his legs like that? What's the forecast in your fair-weathered world? Partly cloudy with a chance of whining?

Let me tell it to you straight, sparky, you ain't on the team.

You couldn't do any better. Sure, when you were a kid, you could run or play stickball or throw pretty well. Yeah, you might still be in decent enough shape, but those men (and women) out there are athletes. They've devoted their lives to what they do, and they're the ones out there playing the game!

I have no illusions about myself. I'm 41 years old. I am nowhere near in the shape required to play sports, professional or otherwise. I'm an observer, a watcher, living some voyeuristic thrill or seeing grown-ups playing a game and getting paid for it. Do I support them? Hell, yeah! They've proven they belong there, that they've got the athletic ability, drive and desire. They are on the team, sparky, not you.

It annoys me when I hear people say "we won". You didn't win. You cheered them on, you supported them, but you didn't help them win. They won. The team won. Say "they won" or "the team won", but not you. You didn't do a damn thing but watch.

Tonight, I have my Pens jersey on. Whether they win or lose tonight, my wearing their colors 300+ miles away won't have any impact on that. Should they win, I'll applaud their efforts. I'll smile. I'll say "they won", but I'll have no illusions that whatever I say or do had anything to do with it.

It's just a game. It's not your life. Watch it. Enjoy the moment. Move on.

Traffic Jams, Detours and Adventures

Another weekend over, another week started.

This past weekend was a little hectic. Jessica, Julie's oldest daughter, graduated from high school. Saturday was the graduation ceremony, held at NIU's Convocation Center. It was nice, simple, and not as long as we expected. Someone said it'd be four hours, but we got out in around 2. Still, I had my Walkman, just in case. ;)

I'm very proud of Jessica. She's had the odds rather stacked against her, since she's also given birth to Curtis this past year, but she passed her senior year with flying colors, earning not only her diploma, but also her class' Citizenship Award for being an outstanding student.

(And yes, I took the graduation photos.)

A couple days before, our friend Kathy came up from Joliet for a long weekend. Kathy's cool, and we get along very well. She needed a break from her routine, and we were able to offer it to her. Still, Friday night, her youngest son wanted to come up and spend the weekend as well, so we took off around 5 to go get him.

It's about an hour's drive from DeKalb to Joliet, but it took us about two hours to get down there. We made a little side trip: Stopped at a local Super Target to get some stuff to make sammiches and went to this beautiful little park right off the highway to eat. It was nice. We had a good time sitting, chatting, watching the world go by. When her son wondered what was taking so long, we told him there was an unexpected detour, and we got stuck in a big traffic jam.

I think we all need detours and traffic jams like that more often in our lives.

Sunday was the graduation party at Julie's ex's place. To say I was uncomfortable there would be a bit of an understatement. Here, I am, the outsider, the interloper, someone with little history as far as this "family" is concerned...

I was there for Jessica. I was there for Julie. I kept telling myself that, even as I wanted to just go disappear away from all of the relatives from "the other side of the family". I stayed, even though Julie saw my "let's get the Hell out of here" face more than she cared to.

It was uncomfortable. I suppose I could've made it easier if I was more social, but that's not easy for me. I'm not one, in social settings, to wear a false face and suck up to someone whom I don't respect. I promised Julie next year, when it's Cory's turn, to try and be nicer, more polite, more social, but that's gonna take a lot.

Sunday night, after Kathy left for home, Julie asked if I wanted to watch a movie. I felt, after the stress of the last couple days, we needed to go for a ride. We grabbed Kadie and got in the car and took off, with (as Chuck Berry might say) no particular place to go.

We ended up in Rochelle, stopping for ice cream. Sitting in the parking lot, we watched some trucks travel down the country road, and wondered where they were going. Julie'd never been down that way before, so I started the engine, and we went on a little adventure.

Turns out there was a big industrial complex down the road a few miles, and a couple distribution facilities. We followed one road until it lead to one of the numerous small towns around here...and past an old bar that brought back some good memories for Julie, from her childhood. The bar had a fish fry every Friday, and they had some of the most amazing catfish. We kinda wondered if it was still the same, after all those years.

As it got darker, we were driving down country roads, not seeing much, but just enjoying the little adventure. It made the weekend complete, that little trip, I feel.

See, that's the beauty of life. Those little trips, those small adventures, the times you get to spend with that special someone. It's not a big thing. It's nothing vast or earth shattering (or ever blog worthy, really), but it's what's important. Spending time together. Doing something a little different. Being silly or stupid.

Don't look at the detours and traffic jams as inconveniences. Look at them as opportunities. A chance to try something a little different. It might be a small thing, but it's the little things that make life worthwhile.

Video didn't kill the radio star

I'm done with terrestrial radio.

Oh, if I'm in the car, and I left my satellite radio at home, and Julie doesn't feel like listening to my mix CDs, I suppose I'll put it on, but otherwise, forget it. The archaic amplitude modulation and frequency modulation bands are a thing of my past, and that's a shame. I grew up with the radio, and supported it long after so many other people switched to video.

Years ago, while rummaging around through a record store (something else that's slowly fading into oblivion), I found a Jazz compilation produced by Chicago's WNUA. Always one to try some new Jazz-related CD, I picked it up and gave it a listen. It had some great music on it, introducing me to incredible talents.

Pittsburgh didn't have a full-time Jazz station at the time. WDUQ did have some Jazz programming, but it was limited. Seemed like they played more NPR than Jazz, and they specialized in traditional Jazz...guys like Davis, Coltrane and their like. This CD was contemporary Jazz, artists like The Rippingtons, Spyro Gyra and my personal favourite, Earl Klugh. It was a vibrant sound, and at the time, spoke more to me than the more traditional Jazz did.

Mind you, over the years, I've come to appreciate and love the older works, counting Kind of Blue as one of the best albums, ever, but back then, I was making the transition from 80's Rock, discovering there was something else out there than the big-hair bands and the pop drivel of the day.

Pittsburgh eventually gained...then lost...a full time contemporary Jazz station, but I still remembered that CD from WNUA.

Flash forward to about a year ago, when I started coming out to see Julie here in DeKalb. I'd grown more and more frustrated with terrestrial radio, especially the limited choices in the Pittsburgh radio network, and with the growing control over the medium by Clear Channel, a corporation more interested in the bottom line than creativity and variety. I'd bought a XM satellite radio, and loved it! What a concept: Variety in radio. I could listen to anything from pop to Jazz to, well, you name it.

Even though I listened to it more than anything else, I was eager to listen to the legenday WNUA, since DeKalb was just at the edge of their broadcasting range. It amazed me...music legends like Ramsey Lewis and Dave Koz, Jazz musicians, were radio show hosts! I loved it!

So you can imagine my surprise the other day when I switched the receiver in my home to "radio" and went to listen to this wonderful station...only to find Spanish programming.

What. The. Fuck.

A quick check on their website, and the answer became clear: For financial reasons, they switched formats.

Oh, sure. If you have a HD Radio, you can still listen to WNUA, but I don't have a HD Radio, nor do I plan to get one in the near future. The hardware is still too expensive, and you're still getting a commercial-based service. Yes, my satellite radio is subscription based, but at least I don't have annoying commercials.

And I can still listen to great music.

Video didn't kill the radio star. Corporations did. People more focused on profit, the bottom line, and what they can mass-market and overproduce that sounds like shit, over something of quality. Jazz may not be profitable (and no, I don't consider the drell Kenny G makes as Jazz), but it is good. It speaks to the soul, something that gets into you and can liberate and lift you up. You won't find it in the latest Top 20 download from iTunes. You won't find it in the overproduced, heartless, synthesized little miss flavor-of-the-week corporate shill.

It's something that you have to really listen for, not something that sits in the background while you mindlessly go through your day.

Jazz radio stations are like lighthouses, beacons beckoning to the listener, to guide them away from the rocks, and bring them someplace where they'll be welcomed. With the loss of WNUA, another light has been extinguished, making it harder to find their way home.

It's just a little update.

It seems like it's been forever since I've written anything here. Not that my life is all that interesting to begin with, but I suppose I should update this thing more than once every few months.

And no, that's not (much) of a jab at Julie, even though she hasn't updated her blog since March. In all fairness, she has been busy, between working, fawning over the grandbaby, going to bingo, spending time with the kids and loving me. She's all right, even though she is working tonight until 9PM, and then will have to be back at work at 5:30 tomorrow morning.

As far as I go...

I'd love to say there's been movement on the house, but I can't. At the last open house, the Realtor told me there were a couple interested parties, especially someone who might be looking for a "fixer-upper" (although there isn't too too much to fix), but they never returned her calls. I mean, c'mon. I know the market's not in the best shape, but it's a good, sturdy house, and I'm not asking that much. If you know anyone in the Pittsburgh area that's looking for a good house at a good price, send me an e-mail. I'll point them in the right direction.

The news isn't much better on the work situation, I feel. Yeah, I said I wasn't gonna say anything here until I got a job, but a couple weeks ago, I had not one, but two interviews in two days. The first would've been ideal. It was with a an ISP/content provider doing anything from manning the phones to working on various projects. It would've been perfect, but I think they were looking more for recent college graduates, and it's been a long time since I've been to college.

The second was with a major brand whose name, well, rhymes with "Pony". They advertised for a "backstage" technician to work in their shop. From what I read, they were looking for someone with technical skills to do kind of like the "geek squad" thing, repairing systems that were bought there.

I had an initial phone interview which I aced. Got a call a few days later from one of their techs looking to see if I knew my stuff, and I impressed him with my knowledge and skills. Got all the way up to an in-store interview with the manager.

Now, the store was in a mall outside Chicago. It's a good hour's drive from me, but I understood that might happen. I'm halfway between Chicago and Rockford, Illinois. I knew there was a good chance I'd be traveling to either major market to do what I do, and I'm a damn good geek. There's no reason why I can't find work, but...

In meeting with the store manager, she made it clear that this wasn't a technical position, but a sales position. The majority of the work would be done at the main repair center in Long Beach, and I'd be spending most of my time selling users their "backstage" warranty, and helping out on the sales floor.

I'm not a salesman. I might be a bullshit artist and a geek extraordinaire, but I'm not much of a salesman. I have a very hard time "selling" myself, let alone warranties, but the money was good enough. I figured...I'd just do what I gotta do.

I was kinda relieved when I got the "thanks but no thanks" letter from them. I think the distance (a good 40 miles, at least) from the store is what ruled me out. The hiring manager told me that she had to call someone in at the last minute to help out the day before, and as far away as I am, last minute calls become last hour calls.

At least I hope that's what it means. I know my former employer hasn't been the most...helpful...in my job search.

Still, I keep looking. Daily, I sit down here in my office, or upstairs in the dining room on the laptop while eating my bowl of cereal, and I send off applications. Most of them, I don't hear a damn thing about after I click "submit". Some of them are nice enough to send me a "fuck off" letter, but those are few and far between.

It's very depressing and disheartening. I know what I can do. I know I'm good at fixing things, working on systems. I know part of it's the market, but what if it's not all the current economy? What if it's something...more? I don't want to seem paranoid, but what if someone or something is preventing from finding work? I'd hate to think they're that vindictive that they'd intentionally screw with me like that.

I don't know.

All I can do, like Julie reminds me (and I thank God so much for her...she's so wonderful...and so patient to put up with me being damn near broke and out of work) is to just take it one day at a time and keep trying. That's all anyone can do, but it gets so...

Yeah. You know.

Sorry for the depressing post. They pop out on occasion. Maybe next time I'll have some good news. That...would be wonderful.

For some unknown reason...

Julie told me she's been coming to my blog, but all she sees is my uber-geeky "clicking" post.

I really have no new updates, but just so she doesn't have to drown in the geek equivalent of testosterone, I'm posting something new.

Something new. Or better yet, someone new. Curtis.
I love this photo...one of my best, in my not-so-humble opinion.

Okay, that's it. I'm goin' to bed. G'nite, kids...

If the drive's a clickin'...

...it ain't good.

A brief explanation first: I have four computers. My main system (Prime), a five-year old custom built (by me) desktop; Onestar-Mobile, the new laptop I'm typing this on; a three-year old laptop I use for "experiments" (new operating systems, software I have to test, etc), and a workhorse desktop system I keep offline.

I can just see Julie's eyes rolling as she reads this. Yes, sweetheart, I need all those computers...and more, really...but that's not the point to this post.

I was working on Prime last night, doing a last bit of websurfing and getting ready to try my hand at making a new fractal (I was in a creative mood), when the hard drive started clicking.

I mean clicking loud.

I've heard enough bad hard drives in my day to know that ain't good a good thing.

I shut the computer down (cleanly) right away and decided to let it sit overnight. Give the drive a chance to cool down (it does help, believe it or not), and then dig out my backup external drive today to try and clone the dying drive.

I'm good at making backups of my disk, even if I only do it about once a quarter. I was a little behind...shit happens...and my last backup was in November before I left Pittsburgh.

When I found my ghost disk this morning, and the external drive, I hooked it up and started the imaging...only to have the disk click LOUDER and HARDER.

This is bad. REALLY BAD. If it gets any worse, I might have to use a bigger font.

It seems to be having problems cloning the "C" partition right now. If this is the case, and the worst of the damage is confined to "C"...this isn't as bad as it could be.

Warning: Eric is going to start speaking in geek right now. If you get confused, please be patient, and he'll try to translate for the non-tech savvy.

See, I'm rather old-school when it comes to computer drive partitioning. I don't believe, unlike current philosophies, that everything should be stored in "C". The only thing that should be in the "C" drive is the operating system. Programs, personal data, porn...whatever...should be kept in other partitions.

The only thing in my "C" drive right now, with the exception of a few programs who don't give me the option to install them on other drives (idiots), is XP. That's it.

Software is installed on "D". Personal data is stored on "E" and "F" is a swap drive, used for short-term storage. If the bad sectors are contained to the "C" drive, I can always revert to an earlier backup. There aren't too many programs that I've installed since then, so it won't be too, too bad.

This is the problem with computers these days, I believe. When you get your shiny new laptop or desktop with that massive 500GB hard drive, it's all one big "C" partition. Sure looks good, that you've got all that space, but if something happens, and you've gotta reformat your computer, everything in that "C" drive gets wiped.

Back at CMU, we used to argue that the "C" drive should be used to just have the OS, and nothing else. Userdata should be in another partition so should we have to nuke Windows (it happens more than you think), your dissertation that you've spent years on won't be affected.

Think of it this way: If you're a cook, would you store your recipes in the oven with the pot roast? Even if it's in a fireproof box, all it takes is one little accident and...whoosh...there goes all your recipes.

Okay, that's a bit of an extreme (and highly unlikely) example, but you get the gist of it.

It may not look it today by the sight of my dining room table, but I do believe in organization. Everything in it's place, and everything has a place it belongs. Maybe it's because I worked in a library for 12 years, but I like to have things properly organized. Dumping everything in one drive seems disorganized at best.

Sigh.

The cloning is still going on, some 12 hours after I started it. Looks like it's gonna run through the night, and I hope it's able to save my data. There's some things on there I haven't made backups yet on DVD, like pictures of Curtis, and I'm gonna be on pins and needles until it finishes.

Guess I'll head over to Newegg and order up a new drive. Thankfully, they're not that expensive these days. It's just a hope I don't have to reinstall XP again.

One more thing. If I haven't said it before, I'll say it again: BACKUP YOUR COMPUTER ON A REGULAR BASIS! I can't say that often enough. There's software programs out there to let you do it, and they're getting easier and easier to use daily. In fact, I saw this the other day...and besides looking cool, it's a simple and efficient and simple way to make sure your data is safe...until you hear it start to click. ;)

365 and counting, part II

What a difference a year makes.

One year ago today, I'd lost my job. Got a phone call from the HR department saying that I was fired.

I got that call while I was eating lunch at a rest stop in Indiana. I was making my first trip out to visit Julie, someone I'd just met a few weeks earlier online.

I was nervous that trip, well, about as nervous as I get. The trip was worth it, though, when I pulled in her driveway and she ran out the door and we hugged for the longest time in her front yard. I don't think we've stopped hugging since.

Yeah, it's been an interesting year. There've been ups and downs. I'm deep in debt and my credit rating's pretty much shot to Hell. I've a house back in Pittsburgh that, when it sells, will pay off my bills. I still don't have a job, and I wonder from day to day where the money's going to come from to pay the next bill. And I lost The Kid a few months ago, but at least she's not hurting anymore.

Still, I wouldn't change a thing. For all the problems, I'm happier now that I've ever been. I'm in love, and that love is returned in kind, sometimes a hundredfold. I've gained so much more than I had...a family, a woman who I will marry and love for the rest of my life, and even a step-grandson.

Some folks have wondered why we celebrate two anniversaries. Truth be told, I celebrate every day I spend with Julie. Odds are, I could find something else tomorrow to celebrate with her. Doesn't matter. They're just memories, things we have to share and things we have to look forward to.

A quick plug

Okay, I've gotta pimp an old friend here.

My buddy Adam writes an amazing blog/column/whatever for the Lehigh Valley (PA) Live newspaper. Remember newspapers? Ink printed on this thing called "paper". I know, nostalgia will be my downfall.

I highly recommend checking out this week's "rant", on technology and concert going.

I've known Adam since my college days, and he is still my favourite writer. Period.

Go check him out, and tell him "Eric still has the pictures...make good with the next payment or they get leaked".

How "egg"citing!

Here's a bit of trivia you might not know about me: I hate eggs.

Now, if they're in something, where I don't have to see, smell or taste them, I'm fine with it. In cakes, cookies, desserts of many kinds, I don't mind in the least. French Toast? Love it!

But by themselves?

They make me wanna gag. Julie once asked me what I hate about them, and it's simple: The taste, the after taste, the texture, the smell...

Pretty much everything there is about an egg disgusts me.

Having said that...



Julie's working early morning shifts at Schnuck's this week. She's learning bookkeeping, which I think is wonderful. It shows they like her, trust her, and think she's doing a wonderful job, going from starting as a cashier five months ago, working in the Deli and adding "on sale" tags to the shelves, she's learning so many facets of the store.

I keep telling her, they're lining her up for an assistant manager position. She doesn't want it, though. She's as humble as I am at times.

It's not easy, however. Because she's learning how to open, she's got to be there early. The store doesn't open until 6AM, and she's been there between 5 and 5:15 all week.

Since I'm haven't been doing anything productive with my time (applying and being rejected for jobs on a daily basis), I've been brining her lunch on her breaks. Everything from homemade PB&J to going to one of DeKalb's glorious fast-food places has been on "the menu".

She's been taking her break around 9 in the morning, so this week, it's been more of a breakfast break. Mickey D's was Monday, and I bought some frozen things I could microwave for her for the rest of the week.

Still...

Lemme flash back really quick: Julie was over Saturday night, watching a movie with me and making cheesecakes. She makes incredible cheesecake: Don't let her tell you different. Since she made the cheesecakes here, she left behind a carton of eggs...

You no doubt see where this is going, don't you?

I decided to make her some scrambled egg sammiches for breakfast on Tuesday, but I had no idea how to cook eggs.

I did a little Googling, found a couple recipes, watched a video or two, and felt confident that I could make something...edible.

They weren't perfect, by any means. A little too much butter in the pan, maybe a bit too much milk, and they could've been cooked longer. She likes her eggs well cooked. But for a first attempt? Not too bad.

Mind you, she thought it was funny I had to look up the instructions how to make eggs, and her kids thought it was funny. It's like I tried to explain: I don't like eggs, so why would I make 'em?

But I love Julie, so...

I'll try again and see how it goes. Hopefully, they'll be a bit better.

365 and counting

It was one year ago today.

A quiet Sunday afternoon.

Playing around on Facebook.
Clicking on pictures in Social Me.

When I clicked "flirt".

Had to go out, to see My Kid in the nursing home.
Got back later that night, and her pictures popped up again.
She was very pretty, so I clicked "flirt" again.

I was a bit surprised when she wrote back and asked if I was actually going to stick around this time.

I apologized. She said she was having a bad day.

We started talking.
And we've never stopped.



It's a year later.

Lots of changes. All of them for the better.

And I'm with my True Love.



Julie thanks me for finding her. I thank her for saving me.

It's been one year today, and I love her more than ever, but not as much as I'll love her tomorrow.

Here's to one year, beautiful lady...and to many more to come.

Hmm

It's a quiet Sunday morning over at my place.

I've been up for about an hour and a half now. Already showered, shaved and did all the other stuff people do in their bathrooms. Did a little websurfing, trying to decide whether I feel like making pancakes or just a bowl of cereal.

Julie's still asleep over at her place. She was so tired last night, I came back home to let her sleep. She was supposed to be off today, but because they buggered her schedule. she's gotta work later tonight. Worst part is, today's Travis' 21st birthday, and she wanted to spend it with her son.

Of course, I did have something to do here last night: I setup my new TV. Yes, I broke down and got a new television set. It was a sale at Best Buy (18 months, no interest financing...I'd gawddamn better be working by then!) that I couldn't pass up.

Now before you go thinking I've got some huge, geeky set...you'd be wrong. It's a 32 inch LCD, but it's not a super-geeky. The nice thing is, it fits my place. I think something bigger wouldn't have worked as well, but this TV is perfect.

I don't have cable or satellite, but I do have my DVDs. That's pretty much all I've used TV for in the past year, anyway, even when I was in Pittsburgh and have that lovely Dish package. Of course, the first DVD I had to pop in was an Andre Rieu concert. It was great to sit on the couch, relax, listen to some beautiful music and enjoy watching the show in Vrijthof Square. One of these days, I'll see if I can get Julie to watch one of those concerts with me. I'll admit, this is more of a "my" thing, and she might be bored by it.

Still would love to see him live again. Not this year, but maybe next. ;)

But this morning, while I was in the shower, I was thinking about this blog...more specifically, the title. "The Journal of Onestar".

I was thinking, I'm not really "Onestar" anymore. "Onestar", as I've said before, was more of a caricature of me, a parody of sorts. During the heyday of DeviantArt was when "Onestar" was at his peak is when "he" was hitting his stride, but those days are gone (much like the heyday of DeviantArt itself).

And, yes, the title of this blog has it's origins way back in 1992 when I first started publishing an e-mail e-zine. "The Journal of Onestar" has gone through several different versions over the years.

Today, there's no "Onestar" about me, I think. I'm...strange as it may seem and even stranger for me to type...more of a family man now, less of a lone wolf. Okay, so I'm still a bit of a horndog, but I save all that for the woman I love.

It might be maturity. It could be growing older (and, I suppose, growing up). It might also be (gasp!) a little more self-confidence on my part. I can step out from behind the shadows, out from the mysterious persona "Onestar" had built and be "just me".

I always said, I went by "Onestar" online for security purposes, to protect my real identity, but truth be told, there was more to it than that. I was able to protect myself, hide behind a mask, a personality I'd help create, and not let the real world see me for what I am. It's taken a very long time for me to get comfortable with people getting to know Eric. Insecurities and self-doubt, were easily hidden behind false bravado and that ever-so-comfortable self-depreciating sense of humor.

Hiding behind a keyboard also helped. Staying secluded, partly by choice, partly by circumstance, also made being the buffoon a lot easier.

But now?

Now, more folks know me, the "real" me. Most of you who read this blog have met me. Some of you call me friend, some consider me closer than that. Odds are, some still read this blog who, well...

Doesn't matter. What's past is past, let's leave it there, shall we?

So what does this all mean?

Well, I'm not changing the name of the blog, that's for sure. "The Journal of Onestar" is a good name, one you're used to seeing. I'm keeping it.

But don't expect to see me use "Onestar" for my name. Not anymore. It says "Eric S." up there in the profile. That's me. That's the guy who writes this stuff and who rambles on endlessly.

I've left "Onestar" behind.

If you're still coming around here, looking for him...hate to disappoint you, but he's history. Yesterday's news. If you can't accept that and move on, I'm sorry.

If you're coming around here for a man you consider "friend", "brother" or "lover"...welcome. I'm glad to see you.

And if you just happen to hit this page on a freak Google search accident, you're welcome to come back anytime you like. My life is, well, not the most interesting one out there, but it's a good one. For the first time in a long, long time...I'm quite happy with it.

Signed,
Eric

ac·com·plish·ment

The Free Dictionary lists the definition of accomplishment as

1. The act of accomplishing or the state of being accomplished; completion.
2. Something completed successfully; an achievement.
3. An acquired skill or expertise: a singer known for his accomplishment in vocal technique.
4. Social poise and grace.

In my home, I have a small white board with four things I need to accomplish:

1. Sell the house
2. Get out of debt
3. Find a job
4. Marry Julie

Okay, so Julie wrote the last one on there. To me, that was "a given", one that was understood, but she wrote put it there, so there it stays.

Those are the big ones, the major ones that...as long as they're not done...I don't feel whole. There's a hole inside of me, eating at me, annoying me, and frustrates me to no end.

I wish I could write here that I've succeeded in completing at least one of those, but they're still elusive at the moment. Believe me, when I'm able to cross one of those suckers off my list, you'll hear it, no matter what part of the world you're in.

For now, all I can say is I've finished one minor...yet just as important...accomplishment.



Yeah, it's just a picture frame, hanging in my dining room, but this is an important one. Julie bought me this for Christmas last year, and it took awhile for me to decide what pictures I wanted to put in it.

After looking over my photos, I decided this frame is about family, so the photos in it would have to be of my family.

For the longest time, it was only 80% done. There were open slots. It was incomplete, so it wasn't hung on the wall. I wanted to put it up, but I didn't want the empty spaces showing.

The family wasn't complete...until now.

With the birth of Curtis, and the photos taken of him, I was able to complete the frame. I hung it on the wall earlier today, and felt that I've finally been able to accomplish something.

In the year I've been out of work, those feelings have been few and far between.

It's up now, and it looks pretty good, if you ask me. Sorry the photo here doesn't give you too many details, but if you'd like to see it all...you'll have to stop by for a visit.

Call ahead first. Who knows? I might be out doing the other things on my list...

One week later

What a week it's been.

If you haven't read Julie's blog, you haven't noticed the big news.

Curtis Justin Bradly was born last Tuesday at 10:54PM. He weighed in at 7lbs, 6oz, and was 20.5 inches long.

Mother and child are both doing fine.

Some have noted that, for a life to enter this world, one has to leave. It's rather fitting that his great-great-grandmother was buried on the day Jessica got the official news she was pregnant, and what would have been his step-great-grandmother died a week or so before he was born.

Rather funny the way that circle of life works.




He's adorable. He has the most amazing laugh, a cry that makes you smile, and the biggest feet on a baby that you've seen in awhile.

I've been very proud of Jessica, for her strength, the way she's handled herself. She's got a fine boy there...for that, she should be just as proud.

And Julie's been beaming for the past week. She's gonna be a great grandmother.

Endings and beginnings, it seems. One life ends (in more ways that one) and another starts.

Here's to the next chapter in the story.

One more thing...

Julie has been incredibly patient, waiting for me to come back home.

As you read this...I'm back there in the arms of my love.

I am home.

You can't go home again, part VII

It's over.


Mum was laid to rest shortly before Noon today. Despite being a little chilly, it was a beautiful day. Clear skies, slight breeze, sunny. If it were warmer, some would say it was perfect, but I thought it was just fine the way it was.

The day started out with us arriving at the funeral home around 8:30. I don't know if they were expecting more than just family to show, but that's all that were there: Family. Yes, Tim and Connie were there, but to me, they're family.

Of course, we were told to be there by 8:30. Father Frank (the parish pastor and man who's gonna perform the service) didn't have to show up until 9:35, and most of us hadn't had breakfast. Things were relaxed, jokes were made, and we were okay. When the priest came, though...it got quiet.

The service at the funeral home was simple. A few prayers, a few comments, and then folks were invited to pay their last respects. Friends first...Tim, Connie and Danny's girlfriend. Then the grandkids all went up as a group. Finally, it was the brothers turn: Dan and his wife, Tom and his, Steve and his...and finally me.

During everyone's last visits, I was standing off to the side, holding up the wall (as it were). Tears started to flow as it came to the brother's turn, and I didn't hold them back. As Steve went, I walked over to get a tissue. He went to leave, stopped, put his arm around me and asked if I was okay. I nodded...couldn't speak. I went up, Stood there. Smiled. Cried. Said goodbye.



We went to the church. The service there was quite nice. It was simple: My nephew went did most of the reading, and he was quite good. Seems he reads at his church.

What was more impressive was that I was able to walk into my old parish and the place didn't blow up. Guess I'm still in good with the Powers-That-Be. ;)

I was a pallbearer, taking the back-left corner. My brothers and the two oldest grandkids were the others. Thankfully, we didn't drop the casket. Mum might not have liked that too much.



After the mass, we went to the cemetery. Even though it was a little chilly, the last part of the service was outside, near the mausoleum. Yeah, she's got a drawer...surprised me when she bought it 12 years ago, since she swore she'd never be buried in one of them, saying she didn't want to fall out when an earthquake hit...even though earthquakes are few and far between in Western PA.

Father said a few last prayers. We were offered some of the roses that were on display at the funeral home to place on the casket. One last goodbye, a few last details with the funeral home.

We looked around to her drawer. Upper left hand corner, a room with a view. We stood there for a few minutes, talking, and when it was all done...

I led everyone away from the mausoleum.



We went to Dan's for a little party afterwards, spent some time, ate some food, and then it was time to take off. I'll be in the 'burgh for a few more days before headed back to DeKalb, back to my love, to my life. There's still a few more things to do, forms to fill out, details to handle. The hard part is done.

I'm gonna be offline, I think, for a few more days. Time to decompress. Breathe. Live.

Farewell, Mama. You will be missed.

You can't go home again, part VI

10PM, Thursday, March 12th.

This would've been Mum's 84th birthday.



Everyone else has gone to bed. I'm going soon, even though I'll wake up a little after 1 when Julie calls me after getting off of work. I didn't get the chance to call or talk to her before she left to work the 6 to Midnight shift tonight, and I feel bad about that, but it was in the middle of visitation, and there were so many people...

I digress. Let me skip back a little earlier in the day, and we'll take it from there.

Tim's girlfriend Connie got into town late last night. This was the first chance I've had to meet her, and let me say, she is a very cool lady. She and Tim are cute together, almost as cute as Julie and I can be. They fit together so well, like my ladylove and I do, and I am so very happy for my best friend, to know that he's found a love like I've found.

Yesterday was also my "off day", a chance to relax, go for a walk, see some old friends and visit old haunts. Got to do a little retail therapy, and have some of the best General Tso's...ever.

Today was different. Today was the viewing.

Tim and the kids took off, to work and school respectively. Connie, in her rush to leave her place and get here, forgot a few things, so we took off first thing in the morning for Target. I think I rather surprised her with my taste in clothing.

Okay, before Julie, Denise or anyone else say anything, listen to me. I have excellent taste. I can coordinate. I can match colors and I know what looks good and what doesn't...on other people. When it comes to me, shit, I don't care. I go for comfortable and functional, and to hell with style. I've never been a slave to fashion, and I'm sorry if you think my look is "conservative", "outdated" or just plain "wrong". I like what I like.

If you don't, do what Julie did and buy me a new wardrobe. ;)

We did the Target thing. We stopped and got some groceries in the house (including getting me some orange juice. I hadn't had any since Friday, and I was jonesing. I hadn't had the chance to get some until now and it tasted so damn good). We got some breakfast, and still got back here in time to relax for a bit before I had to shower and change for the viewing.

Family had to be at the funeral home by 1. I got there, around the same time as most of my family, although Steve was running a bit late. I blame his son, not him. Once we arrived, we went into the viewing area and saw her.



For years, Mum would go once a week to the hair dresser's to have her hair washed and set. Bright and early Tuesday morning, like clockwork, she was there, and John did a wonderful job. He took care of Mum. After she got to the point when she couldn't see that well to drive, I dropped her off and John brought her back home. He and Mum were good friends, and it was her wish to have John fix Mum's hair when she died.

John did an amazing job. It'd been years since he worked on her, but he recaptured her look so beautifully, so perfectly...

She looked like her old self again. She was just sleeping.



It was hard seeing her at times and not crying. It's been hard typing this without tears welling up.



There were two viewing scheduled: 2 to 4 and 6 to 8. Not too many showed up for the first one. Some friends, acquaintances...it was small. We finished up shortly after 4 and went our separate ways. I came back to Tim's place for a bite to eat.



The evening viewing was much different. Mum always wondered if there'd be a lot of people come to see her, and let me tell you, at the height of the evening, the room was full. It was wonderful to see friends come by, some who never met her (friends of ours who came to pay respects) and some she'd known most of her life. Her best friend since she first came to Pittsburgh, when she was 18, was there, someone I had known when I was a kid but hadn't seen in 15 years...at least.

Old friends from my CMU days showed up. Neighbors. Folks from the other side of the family.

I think she'd have been happy with the turnout.



We're supposed to be back there tomorrow at 8:30 for final viewing, blessing by the priest, closing the casket. Head over to the church, have a mass held for her, and off to the cemetery.
Tomorrow is another day. One more day to go.....