Let the long weekend begin.

I am back. This will be short as I have the Lad here with me. He is on a caffeine high, which means he will be more talkative than usual. He is just yapping away and somehow saying nothing. Oh well.

He and I are not going to the Outlaws. We are off to the Blue Jays game. I am ambivalent about going. My brother in law, in his normal half-assed way, keeps saying "if you and (the Lad) want to go to a game, I'll go with you". Now, I am not sure what I get out of that deal. If he offered to take the Lad that would be one thing. He has NEVER spent time alone with the Lad (he is fucking like his father in that and many regards), yet he "wants" to go to the game, of course, if I am going. It is reminding me of Paul Reiser's character in the classic movie, "Diner", who cannot ask for something directly.

I actually thought he would take the Lad to the game, so that I could go to the Outlaws. I figure that I should see them as much as possible while I can. Of course, they are his parents and he has dibs, though he has NEVER exercised them, the dibs, before. Anyway, I am heading down with the Lad, while the Wife will take him home from the Outlaws.

Well, that is all I have to bitch about right now. Have a great weekend. I plan to and will enjoy my time alone, among thousands of others, with the Lad. Ciao!

The end of summer is upon us

I am back. I am more tired than ever. I would say that it is great that there is a long weekend upon us but it is the one that I have always liked least. Labor, or Labour, Day is the most depressing of the long weekends that I can think of. It always has, and perhaps, always will, signal the end of summer.

The days have gotten perceptibly shorter. There is only one way to go. Really short. Then again, the good news is that it is always a cycle so they will lengthen right after December 21st or so.

Labour Day was always the beginning of school. I did enjoy those three years (1983, 1984 and 1985) when I was doing my undergrad work. We did not begin classes until the following Monday so there was that extra week of summer, when high school kids (my siblings) were back to school but I was off. I am not sure I took advantage, but I am not sure how I was supposed to.

In 1983, we had Jewish holidays at the back end of that extra week. I had done my service at my cousin's wedding, got extremely tanked and was hung over for Labour Day. I do recall watching "Mad Max" and "An American Werewolf in London" on First Choice (pay tv, or Canada's first answer to HBO, at the time). That was okay. In 1984, I continued to have some fun that final week. In 1985, I did the same including a night up at a friend's chalet with just the boys. It was not queer just some drinking, Monopoly and male bonding. It was good.

The next few years was law school. 1986 and 1988 were not memorable since classes began the Tuesday after Labour Day. 1987 was fucked up, though. We had to begin school, because of the Jewish Holidays, on Monday August 31st. I had never started school in August before. It was somewhat surreal. We did get Labour Day off. The best part was that there was a strike by the support staff, so many of classes were postponed during that semester as the full time professors were reticent to cross the picket lines. The practitioner/instructors did not give a shit, so they crossed and taught. I always preferred the practitioners.

I could go on about long weekends. I mean Victoria Day ushered in the summer season. Canada Day and Simcoe Day were and are in the summer. Thanksgiving, up here in Canada, is early October, when the leaves are changing color, so it is always beautiful, unless it is raining. Good Friday, well, it is March or April, so winter is turning to spring and you know summer is around the corner. It is only Labour Day that marks the end of summer.

The pissy part is that the streets get busier. There is more traffic. It is nothing to look forward to. When it is summertime, the living is easy. Oh well, another summer is coming to an end.

I guess I should be glad that August is drawing to a close. It has not been a pleasant August, but that is not the fault of August. That is just the way life works. August will be associated with that however. Ahhhhh, must enjoy and be thankful for what I have.

That is the lesson for today. Reflect on your life and focus on all that is good and right. I think that I will do that, in lieu of sleep.

By the way, dinner last night was excellent. Went to Torrito's in Kensington Market. Tapas. I am still drooling thinking about it. The best gazpaucho EVER! Made with yellow tomatoes. Then they comped us the lamb/pork meatballs in mole sauce. EXCELLENT!!! It was great. Highly recommended to all. The ceviche and smoked trout were nothing to sneeze at either. I forgot how much I like Spanish food and tapas. El Cid went away and so did my appetite for tapas, but it is really the ultimate grazers meal---a little of this, a bite of that. That is good eating!

Ciao!

No new mouse tails, er, tales

I am back. I forgot to send out birthday greetings to my sister yesterday. It is not as though I have ever told her of this blog, let alone given her the coordinates to view it, so I am sure she did not notice that lack of public acknowledgment in this space. Still, I felt it needed to be done.

Well, the Lad has gone up north with some friends and his family until late tomorrow. It will be good for him to get away from the sad parts of life if only for a night and day. I am pleased he chose to go, though I am not sure why he would not.

On a brighter note, or is it, I did not have to dispose of any dead mice last night or this morning. I still have to move the fucking refridgerator and I am afraid of what I may find. I do not think there is anything dead there. In fact, dead is better than alive. They do not move so much when dead, or if at all. They stink, but it is not like trying to hit a moving target. I like that.

So, it is just the Wife and I tonight. Well, actually, I was informed that we are being taken out for dinner by our friends. They are so good. They allow us a pretty free run at their pool, invite us to their family functions and take the Lad all the time. He was with them yesterday, enjoying the pool and playing with their son, who is 3 weeks younger. I really like them. Of course, I am not naming names.

Not so much funny on this end. I did get to see the first episode of season 4 of Rescue Me last night. It was good to see it on again. I really like that show in case you care.

Well, that is all for today. Ciao!

The Mouse Capades Just Continue to Roll

I am back. Things just keep getting better on the rodent front. Perhaps, it is the construction going on two doors away. I do not know. All I know is this, we had a friend over for dinner last night. She is petrified by mice and rodents. There was no sighting while she was there. The remaining traps were set, baited and remained baited.

At around nine or so, we are all (the Wife, Lad and myself) just sitting on our bed watching some television. I notice something brown and small coming towards our open bedroom door and turn around and move to the office upstairs. Fuck me with a chainsaw! We are down to 3 traps now. I am not sure if that is good news or bad news. The things are getting used, though, and doing the trick.

I go downstairs to get a trap to put upstairs. What do I find? Under the breakfast bar, another confirmed kill. I have to tell you, as ugly as mice may be when on their paws with their backs facing up, dead on their backs with their ugly teeth showing is worse. I put the carcass and trap in a plastic bag and into the garbage it goes, along with the two others. I guess the Lad actually saw it when we came home on the Sunday. I also noticed that the bait was gone from one of the other traps.

I brought one upstairs and put the last one under the breakfast bar. I figure that is the place because it has already killed two and the other placements merely served as feeding stations. Fine, I hear no snapping upstairs.

At six this morning, I am up and check the trap upstairs. Baited, set and no mouse. Okay. I head downstairs, get the paper, turn on the light and lo and behold, dead mouse on its back, stuck in the trap under the breakfast bar. I have one trap left (the Wife is buying more) but the breakfast bar is the place to set them. Now, I really have to move the fridge and am really afraid of what I may find.

I go to bed disposing of dead mice and wake up to do the same. I am the TERMINATOR. The Wife called an exterminator, like they will find the entrance. I think it is a waste of money, but it may be worth a shot. When that one fails, I can always throw it back at her.

The Lad is bitching about them. Yet, for all his bitching, I have not seen him cleaning up the mess. I have not seen the Wife do it either. That is the problem that I have. I am doing ALL the work here with these things. Well, I have killed four, how many are there to go?

I guess that is the eternal question. Then again, I am thinking better mice than rats. Also, apparently my brother seems to believe that if you poison them, you can just throw up some air freshener and all is well. These things stink to high hell and low hell, too. I do not know how you live with that rotting garbage smell.

Ciao! I really do need some sleep but the Season 4 premier of Rescue Me is on. No rest for the wicked, and functionally useless, too.

More Mouse Tails, er Tales

I am back. The weekend was surprisingly hassle free. A little more, who is kidding who, a lot more sleep would have been nice. But just like Warren Zevon wrote, "I'll sleep when I'm dead." Not the most pleasant of thoughts given what is swirling around these parts of my life right now, but it is appropos. I also found myself singing this song (the Lad has done it on occasion as well, he has the most interesting ways of making me proud) while in my George S May training life of three years ago.

We did dinner at the Outlaws on Friday. My mother in law sat at the table and had some soup the Wife had made. It was a pleasant dinner. My father in law was on good behavior. Then again, he was so tired from his hospital stay, he was more docile than usual. We leave. I take the Lad (he chooses to ride with me-likes the music selection, I think) and the Wife takes her brother (I prefer the arrangement this way. Ever since, my brother in law bummed a ride off of us in February to a family function, not that I mind, though I refuse to fucking WAIT for him, I mean, if you are bringing NOTHING to the table and I am doing you the favor, do not even consider making me wait for your ass, and made it seem like he was virtuous for saving gas, I really do not want to drive him anywhere. Now that may be my interpretation of what he said to my father in law, and that may not have been his intent, in any event cheap, lazy and dependent is not a virtue).

As it started to rain, the Wife took her brother all the way home instead of dropping him off at the subway station near our home. His stop is the next one south, so it an okay arrangement. The Lad and I get home first. We get in the house and the Lad is asking me to check the traps. In fact, he is standing on the couch (he can be a little pussy and really could stand to grow a pair, which I have informed to do). I check the trap in the kitchen--bait gone and trap still set (FUCK!), I check the trap near the kitchen, same situation (FUCK!), I check the trap in the corner of the dining room--still baited and set (Okay), then I check the trap under the breakfast bar (what a stupid design by the dude who renovated our house before we bought it) and lo and behold, there is a dead mouse. Little fucker's neck was snapped by the trap. A confirmed kill! Boo Yah!

I cleaned it all up and tossed the beast with the trap into the garbage outside. I am pleased as punch but figure better safe than sorry, so I rebait the other traps and place them around. Cannot be too sure, you know.

Sunday, before breakfast, the Wife is getting something out of a lower cupboard and smells that garbagy rotting smell. For critters that are so small, they stink to high hell when they die. Imagine what a decomposing human would smell like. Blaaah!! Well, at least we confirmed what we heard on Thursday (trap snapping) was indeed a kill. After breakfast, I had to open up the space again and fish the dead critter out. It was leaving a liquidy trail, so I had to clean up after I pitched the carcass.

I am thinking that if I catch enough of them I could skin 'em and make a beautiful mouse skin coat. Just thinking like the granson of a furrier that I am. Anyway, the Lad claims to have seen something move when we came in last night, but I am not sure. I have three baited traps and there appears to have been no change last night. Then again, I have to move the fridge and check there, but I just do not want to. That may be this evening's entertainment.

Ciao!

It never stops

I am back. I am telling you, it never stops. I had a day off yesterday. It became "Do Something with the Lad" day which became run errands with and for the Lad. We had to hit Costco and he had an orthodontist appointment. All the while, the Wife was at the hospital with her mother getting her "mask" prepared for her radiation treatment.

I take the Lad with me grocery shopping. I come home and the Wife is back. She then tells me that she saw a mouse in the kitchen. It ran under the fridge. We put away the groceries as the Lad, who really needs to grow a pair, cowers from the mouse outside. All of a sudden, there is a streak of brown and the little fucker scoots by my foot. I could not react but it does run into a space under our counters through the opening in the kick plate. The house is an old house built with floor joists that were obviously not level, so the kick plate has a bit of an opening now.

I found a mouse trap that we had lying around from March. I set it and put it in the space. I took the FUBAR (functional utility bar--I am set for demolition work if anybody needs me, and I would love to knock the shit out of things, so....) and sealed up the space. I figured that was it. Now we wait. Then we hear the sound, muffled, of the trap snapping. I have not checked it. Fear that I open a space and thing runs out at me while my face is level with the ground. Mouse running at me in 3-D is not something I am looking forward to (why should this be any different?).

Okay, I go to workout. I get a few calls and finally call home as I am leaving. The Wife tells me that she saw another mouse in the kitchen. Of course, she is thinking it is the first mouse and not thinking that there is more than one. Anyway, I get more traps at Home Depot on the way home. I bait and set the traps and we go out for dinner.

I get down this morning at six and check the traps. The fucker got the bait out of 3 of 4 traps without setting them off. What the fuck did I do wrong? I rebaited and reset them and put them in corners. Now, we wait and hope I find snapped neck mice in the traps. Of course, struggling mice caught in the trap can be beaten with a broom and brick (I have done it before and would do it again).

Funny thing is that with all that is going on in our lives right now, the mice are not such a big problem. The Wife has gained some perspective, now if we can get the Lad some.

Have a great weekend, one and all. Mine will be similar to the last two, though I am hoping there are NO hospital visits this time. Ciao!

Indeed, what do China's Communists know about reincarnation?

I am back. Well, the Wife finally had a good night's sleep. Amazing what a fitful sleep, if you can call it that, in the Emergency room the night before can do for you on the second night. I am going off the topic of my personal life for today.

I read the funniest article in the Globe and Mail yesterday. I am filing it in my "I Love Totalitarian Regimes" file. It was an article, more of an op-ed piece, on China, Tibet and the next Dalai Lama. Since China now controls Tibet, they have decreed that they get to choose the next Dalai Lama, when he dies and is reincarnated. They have "forbidden" him from reincarnating himself as a non-Chinese. They want a Lama who will accept China's rule of Tibet in perpetuity.

They cite as precedent the approval of the Mongol emporers and the Manchu dynasty. The only difference is both Kublai Khan and the Mongols and the Manchurian emporers respected and revered the religion. They just wanted tacit approval for their empire building. The present Chinese regime is athiestic by design (Marx and his religion is the opiate of the masses comment-type thing). So here they are trying to control that which they cannot control. It is fucking laughable.

There is the dispute, that is ongoing, dealing with a lesser Lama. The Dalai Lama and Tibetan Buddhist claim some non-Chinese boy is the reincarnated Lama, but the Chinese say it is some Chinese kid. I am not sure who to believe in this one...the keepers of the Buddhism or a Communist, totalitarian government intent on trying to control information and the message so that it perpetually spins in their favor and they can say they do no wrong and never make mistakes. Hmmmmm, who can it be?

Apparently, the Dalai Lama can control where he is reincarnated and where that child is born. That is some kind of power. If being truly enlightened allows you to choose when and where you, your soul, comes back, that is pretty cool. I am not sure I buy that but I certainly do not buy the official Chinese way. That one is far worse and twisted.

The Chinese government wants to control it all. In the circular logic that they would use and have the world believe, since they have decreed it, it must be so. They are flawless and can do no wrong. They are some sort of super humans, who do not make mistakes and are not encumbered by human frailties. It is ironic that they are so encumbered by hubris, but would be loath to admit it.

I am not so sure it is a Communist thing. Recall, Vladimir Putin's useless reaction to the tragedy of the Kirkuk, the Russian submarine that experienced an on board explosion and slow, agonizing death of how many sailors surviving the blast. He did not care nor did he show much compassion with Chechen stand off at Beslan. Then again, George W Bush is loathe to admit mistakes in HIS handling of the conflict in Iraq. The big difference is that here in the West, with a free press, the world is more transparent, so the bullshit just does not stick as well or as often.

But there you have it, the Chinese government has the "power" to choose where the Dalai Lama will be reincarnated. Fuck, I almost bust a gut when I read that article.

Here is the opening of Frank Ching's article titled "What do China's Communists know about reincarnation?" from yesterdays Globe and Mail. It was hilarious in how ridiculous it was. It is truly is something straight out of Orwell's "1984". Man, that dude saw it coming.

China has announced new regulations governing Tibetan Buddhism, including a stipulation that senior monks, known as "living Buddhas," cannot be reincarnated without government permission. The regulations, issued by the State Religious Affairs Bureau, stipulate that "living Buddha" reincarnations with a "particularly great impact," presumably such as the next Dalai Lama, "shall be reported to the State Council for approval."

Ciao!

An update

I am back. When I thought things could not be any more unsettled, I get another curve tossed my way. One the mother in law front, I was wrong. She has anaplastic thyroid cancer. They have pretty much given her 3 to 6 months to live. She will do some radiation treatment to shrink the mass and then it is make her comfortable time. At least, she stands to have a decent 3 to 6 months to do some things and enjoy her family and friends. It will be indeed a long and sad good bye.

That was today's news. Yesterday, my father in law was far more confused than usual. He also lost control of his bodily functions (I held my father's piss bucket, apparently I was the best, when he was in the hospital. I am NOT doing that one again. That should be the role of my brother in law, though apparently my brother and my cousin, the doctor, well psychiatrist, were incapable of holding dad's piss bucket the way he liked. Also, I am not cleaning THAT mess up. I have standards, low as they may be, they are still standards.) My sister in law thought it may be a urinary tract infection. Any infection causes his dementia to actually be worse.

He was taken to the emergency room last night and the Wife followed around 7 pm. I have not seen her since. She, and my brother in law, stayed with him in emerg. all night. They are supposed to admit him. He is not coming home. My mother in law cannot deal with him at home in her state/condition, so she can visit him in a home. Sad, but this is where the road was going to lead.

Anyway, as the Wife was taking her mother to the oncologist this morning, I got to miss work and hang out in emerg. with my father in law. I have no idea if he knew who I was. He mumbled stuff and would reach for imaginary stuff. He would futz and pull off his blankets and I would place them back. It was like the burden of Sisyphus. I would tuck him and he would take it off. This went on for too long. Then his sister came, so I figured she could deal with him and I could work.

I was told that I should stay until either he gets into a room or when his sister arrived. I hope he has a room by now, but he was comfortable in the emergency room cubby. They ruled out UTI, and think the trouble may be kidney related. He has had kidney trouble and had been seeing a nephrologist. He has a fucking team of doctors each looking at a different organ and system. It is all uncoordinated, which would account for him falling down from time to time.

There that is the update. I may have written some gems down and I will report them later. They are blackly funny, at least to me. Then again, black humor has been my raison d'etre (reason for being in French) since I was a teenager. What kind of parents had a fucked up, morbid, black humored, kid like me? Well, I do know their names, but it makes me wonder. Then again, I am thankful for it as it is the only way I know.

Ciao!

The sad come clean post

I am back. It has been a looooonnnnnnnggggggg weekend. This is the kind of shit, and I do mean shit, that I have been living for the past couple of weeks at least. It seems the salty and sad part of life has reared its ugly head in my neck of the woods. It is not for the light of heart as this stuff is pretty heavy, even if I am a step removed.

Then again, in my own life, I have long tried to remain a step removed. That is how I deal with the impermanence of life. I am not saying it is the best way, but it has worked for me. Then again, a great consequence of that is to never really feel connected to others. They are always put at arm's length. That way when they go, which they always do, I am not as pained as I would be if the connections were deeper.

It is with that in mind, I state for the record, that my Outlaws are both making their long march down. I have chronicled the mental and physical deterioration of my father in law here numerous times. That still continues and gets worse and worse. The comprehension is not there but that is not his fault. He was never really connected to the outside world as long as I have known him.

I had been told that he was but he tragically lost his best friend and his wife to a house fire. That turned their kids into orphans. The older one, who is a bit older than me, I have met. Actually, he is married to my cousin's sister (my cousin's wife) who I went to junior high and high school with. Anyway, the Wife says that my father in law was never the same after that. So maybe, he stopped connecting because connecting inevitably brings pain when death rears its ugly head.

The Wife has to contend with this. So did my mother in law. She had been having trouble swallowing for a little bit. Long story short, they stopped her surgery short 10 days ago. The mass was too big to remove as it was. We were given 2 possibilities. How surreal it is and was that the "better" choice was esophageal cancer (anaplastic thyroid cancer was the second). Esophageal cancer can be treated (on the most hopeful of notes) and there is no effective treatment for anaplastic thyroid cancer. Anyway, she has esophageal cancer.

The big problem is that the symptoms of esophageal cancer are so diffuse that it is rarely detected when it can be treated "easily". That is where we are right now. It is apparent that my mother in law's time with us can be measured in months if not weeks. My father in law is not really with us. The Wife seems to see herself being an orphan in a very short time.

We all thought that my father in law would be the first to go. It is nothing short of a medical miracle that he still physically exists. He has had high blood pressure and heart problems. My thinking is that because he does not seem to listen to anybody or anything so when told by doctors about his ailments he continues to not listen and lives on. It is the ultimate act of defiance or obliviousness, take your pick.

As my mother in law deteriorates, he will too, both physically and mentally. This ain't gonna be a fun ride for anybody. My sister in law has been great. She keeps coming in and will sit on speaker phone when the Wife and my mother meet with the radiologist and oncologist tomorrow. I suspect the news will be that it is too far gone and that my mother in law is too weak to handle the radiation. They need to do that to shrink the mass before they can even consider operating.

She says that she "wants to be helped" but it seems a passive request. She has to help herself. She may be too weak to fight. She may have no fight left in her. She has to be honest with herself and us on that one. That is not something she is good at being. That is her. If the fight is gone, that, too is okay. I certainly do not blame her nor would I be angry at her for that. It is a sad, sad situation. It is life and must be handled by engaging the process head on.

For me, it is all bad. I am powerless to do anything other than comfort a sobbing wife at 3 in the morning. Actually, at just about any time of day or night. I guess that is my role here. Having danced down this road myself, I know how it works. There are always differences and the experience is still similar enough.

The Wife and the world is losing a truly wonderful (her favourite adjective) soul. She would not hurt anybody or anything (well, maybe she would but it was unintentional and only due to her handiwork in the kitchen). I may have to ask the Wife to get her to give us all her recipes (then we can burn them, so they do another harm, though her roast beef is pretty good, that may be it, though).

I may go on about this for a bit. I think it helps me to work through some of what I am feeling. Then again, I have to live in the moment and visit with her to squeeze the good out of our last minutes together. That is life.

Be back soon. Ciao!

Death and more death. 114 Year Old Woman in the on deck circle.

I am back. I forgot to mark yesterday as 30 since the King, Elvis Presley, dropped dead. His fat, bloated, drugged out corpse lying on his bathroom floor. Not the most dignified way to go, but it could have been worse.

Let's see, apparently the oldest living person in the world died. She was 114. Now, some woman in Indiana gets to wear that crown. She was four months younger, so also 114. She should not get too attached to that title. As I said before, that title is just the kiss of death. She is really in the "on deck" circle, waiting her turn in the eternal batter's box. I am not sure if that is funny or not.

She has outlived her husband, siblings and children. I am sure she has outlived some grandchildren and possibly great-grandchildren. She owes it all to being active and clean living. She does not drink and has never smoked. I am no longer sure if getting to that age and looking like a dried apple is worth giving up the drink and the smokes. At least that way, you may leave a bloated Elvis like corpse and not one like fucking Skeletor.

On that happy note, have a great weekend! Ciao!

Skinny revelations

I am back. Not much to do, not much to say. I need to put on some weight. Can anybody help me with that? I am serious. The pounds are just melting right off of me and I am not doing anything. I just do not understand. At the rate I am going, I may be invisible by September.

I know that revelation will piss off many of you, but that is too bad for you! I was a bit "sad" to see Matt Kirshen leave "Last Comic Standing" but Ralph Harris's set was tighter. He is a professional. Matt was the little comic from London, England who looked like a bit of a Hobbit. He was funny. Now they are down to the final five, wooooo. Jerry Dee from Canada is still among them. Wooooo!

That is all for this Thursday. Ciao!

Beware of these caterers

I am back. I was struck by something that I saw Friday afternoon. I was driving home and noticed one of those "catering" trucks. The ones that cruised the construction sites to sell coffee, sandwiches and donuts. On the side it said "WE CATER".

I thought about that for a second. I do not know about you, but I have NEVER even considered having a functioned catered with food like egg salad with mayonnaise that has been left to sit in the hot sun, wrapped neatly in celophane. I know to me that just sings of class. Here, let me unwrap that honeybun for you.

Cater? Who the fuck is catering a function using the truck and its food? Let me know, so I can avoid that party. Then again, if the liquid refreshments are flowing, I may make an appearance.

Ciao!

A baby naming somehow turned into a wedding

I am back. I am still reeling over the "tongue" comment I heard yesterday. What can I say? I am a sick puppy.

I have to mention something here. I was a part of something I thought to be very cool yesterday. An old friend of mine, Ike, who I have known since the first grade had a baby. Well, his "girlfriend" had one and the claim is that it is his. He has been seeing her for close to 20 years. They are not married and had bought a house together. I had not seen Ike's family (parents and sister) in close to 25 years, near as I can remember.

Anyway, it was the July long weekend in these parts and I had gone to work out on the Saturday. I was heading to our friends' home and pool and drove by my brother's house. He was outside and asked if "Ike" had a baby. He then went on to tell me about the birth announcement in the paper and it was Ike. I told the wife when I arrived at our friends' house and checked the birth announcement for myself.

I had meant to get Ike's phone number to wish him well and all that good stuff, but forgot to ask the good doctor for the number. I let it all pass as my mental capacity is obviously shrinking or was always non-existent with these social things.

Last week, Ike calls to invite us to the baby naming. With my mother in law not feeling so well, the Wife chose not to go. So, I went with the Lad. He went for the food. This is where I am not so sure if he is MY son. Food is well down on my list of things to do, usually. Sex and sleep always came higher with sex while I sleep the ultimate in multi-tasking.

The interesting thing was that Ike had said on many occassions that he was not going to get married and he was not going to have children. His girlfriend has a degree in ECE (early childhood education) and yet was not with a guy who was into children, or at least his own (that did not come out sounding too good, did it?). Anyway, I was shocked that they had had a baby. It was nice to see.

I got to see Feds and family and the good doctor and his family. The baby naming ceremony was done and then Ike asked his woman, for lack of a better label, to marry him. He had arranged this all. Suddenly, the baby naming became a surprise wedding. It was all very cool!

I did have two questions though. One was that his new bride and the new mother was carrying the baby. She did not have the traditional bouquet of flowers, so I wondered and asked if that meant she would be tossing the baby instead. The other practical thing that I voiced was that we had brought a gift for the baby, but had come empty handed for the wedding. I know we were all in that boat, but still, it felt socially awkward at some level.

It was all very nice, though the Lad was a little impatient (and hungry) as we waited for them to set up the wedding ceremony,

I Ike and Lori, and little Maegen Rose, all the best.

I also got to reconnect with Ike's family. It was cool, as I was flooded with memories of my childhood. I remember their old house. It has since been used a marijuana grow house. I recall his mother's green Cutlass from about 30 years ago. She was telling the Lad that she knew me when I was much younger than he. I do not think she realized how young the lad really is (there was really a four year difference, I met Ike when I was 6 and the Lad is 10) but he is very tall, so he looks older than his 10 years.

It was cool to me in the most personal of ways. I am thankful that he thought enough of me to invite me to the whole event. I know that I had invited him/them to our wedding because of our past and the fact that through the good doctor we would sometimes see him/them. The contact was there and the history.

Well, I am done. Ciao!

His aunt wants to give him some tongue

I am back. It is an "oh yeah" moment. I was among the Wife's family today. We are at the Outlaws and my mother in law's sister is there. My brother in law in is there, too. The conversation turns to dinner. The aunt says that they had bought some sliced tongue. My brother in law likes tongue. The aunt tells to come over for some tongue. His aunt wants to give him some tongue. Am I alone in seeing the "ick" factor here?

All I know is this. If my aunt says she wants to give me some tongue, I am running out of the room and not looking back. Blaaah!

Ciao!

Madman on "Mad Men"

I am back. I posted yesterday but realized that I did not want to go public with the "news". I apologize to those of you who may have tuned in. If you did, you know where things are "at" for us in the Madman household. If not, all will be revealed in time.

I did want to say that the Madman has found a television show that is worthy of the Madman seal of approval. It is on AMC and called "Mad Men". I may have written about it before but it is stylistically beautiful. To watch a pregnant woman smoking and drinking was pretty cool and a throw back to the time when the show takes place, 1960. It is cool, so I recommend it.

Ciao!

Multi-tasking

I am back. Short one today. I say that all the time, then I forget what I want to write and amble on. It is like me talking.

Watching "America's Got Talent" last night. There are three people who stand out in my eyes and ears. There is that Cas Haley who looks like a white surfer dude who sings especially Calypso/Reggae tinged songs great. His first performance blew me away when he sang, with guitar, "Walking on the Moon" by the Police. It was stripped down and excellent. The second is that Terry Fator. He is the ventriloquist, singer and impersonator. He is amazing. Ventriloquism can be interesting but the dude does singing impressions while throwing the voice. That is multi-tasking. The third is Butterscotch. She beat boxes but she plays the piano (classically trained) and does jazz, so she is very talented.

On the subject of multi-tasking, I am reminded of one of the people I had met while doing my "training" in the Chicagoland area over 3 years ago. He was a dude from Texas who loved to golf. He was a restrained dude, like many of his era, so he could not handle my probing of his emotions during role plays. Anyway, apparently, he was in the washroom, taking a leak, fixing his hair (hands free pissing) and farting, all at the same time. Now, there is a multi-tasker for you.

More Thoughts from a Long Weekend

I am back. I had something funny to discuss. Discuss? That is a load of crap. This is a monologue. The conversation always goes one way. I have to really ask "Is there anybody out there? Just nod if you read me." Who said all those Pink Floyd songs were a waste of time?



It was a relaxing holiday Monday for me. I got to workout and do some work. I was home alone as the Lad was at baseball camp and the Wife was at work. I rather enjoyed it. I had almost forgotten what that was like.


I am a solitary creature. I like you humans and enjoy the interaction. I also know I need to recharge my batteries by being alone with nobody making demands on my time or attention. That is rare, I am realizing. I have always been this way. I can recall when working for my father in the summer, I would come home after five and need an hour to "veg" in front of the television undisturbed before I could be civil to anybody in the house. I am like that still, but I do not get that "veg" time so readily.



The sad part is I know this and have been upfront about it, yet it is not respected. Then, when I snap at the Lad or Wife, I am the bad guy. Yet, the warning "Do Not Feed The Bear" have been posted, not heeded and you blame the bear for being a bear. I get it because it is easier to blame somebody else than to take responsibility for your own actions and doing something that you know the consequences of and accepting them if you choose that course of action.



I spend too much time "reading" and "feeling" other people's emotional states that I find it draining. It is the curse that goes with my empathetic gifts. Of course, I may be delusional. Speaking of which, my delusional "friend" has been calling and calling all weekend. I could not be bothered to hear the story, again, so I screened my calls. Man, she just cannot get the message. Why do her "voices" not tell her to stop calling me repeatedly? Her fucking voices are doubly useless to me. Man, it is tough to be me, I tell ya.



Going to run. Ciao! I almost lost this post so I thank the Autosave feature.

AC tales

I am back. I seem to be having some trouble with the AC here. I have gone into the furnace room to see water leaking from the bottom of the unit and soaking my collection of boxes of empty beer bottles. At 10 cents a piece, it never seemed worth my time to return them until I had collected many. I am not sure if that is laziness or efficiency, in any event, since they started a deposit system for wine and alcohol bottles, I had collected about ten to twelve of those too.

Saturday, I wake up and check the thermostat as the AC is still running. The temperature is above where I set the thermostat and thought that it could not be. I go down to check on things and I hear "ping" "ping" "ping"......... I open her up and find that droplets of water are dripping down on to the bottom of the metal unit. I wipe up what I can and try to figure it all out. I know that it is condensate and I have blown out the hose, or so I thought. I had not been hearing the sound of water trickling into the drain much this summer. I got it all dried up, put back together and thought that I had cleared out the line.

Because of that, I figured it was time to return the bottles. Bonus number one was that I found three bottles that I had not put in the fridge. I had 3 "free" beers. They were "free" because by my mental accounting, they were bought, paid for, and drunk before (I am not sure how long ago). Now, I have 3 extra beers. Drop right in and enjoy one with me. I got back about $10, so that was like real money at that point.

Sunday rolls around much like Saturday. Again, the AC is on, the temperature is higher than the thermostat setting and I am confused. Again, I go down, only to hear that pinging noise. Fuck! Do I have to call my furnace and AC guy? I take things apart and dry it up. This time I take all the hose connections apart. This time I go to the bottom connection and ram a skewer into it to see if the blockage is there. It was in that area about 5 years ago (during a heat wave around the time of my brother's wedding-Aug 1).

I then go to drain and hear that joyous "drip""drip" "drip, as the condensate goes to the drain, where it is supposed to go. All last night, I listened for that drip as the AC was going. I heard it. I checked this morning, no leaking water to speak of. I solved the problem, for now.

Now, I have my AC when I really need it. Ciao!

Thanks for returning

I am back. I guess the muse spoke to me yesterday. Of course, she said "anal leakage" but at least that got me to thinking, riffing and writing. There was a stream of consciousness thing going on there. Not today, though. Maybe it is the upcoming long weekend (Monday is a civic holiday here) or maybe it is some sort of brain tumor. I just do not know.

I am thinking of changing the name of this blog. I am not too sure that "Well Adjusted" is truthful any longer (assuming it ever was). Then again, and I hate to repeat myself, with the heat and humidity we have been having in these parts, some of my other parts are well.....adjusted, or in need of adjustment.

It never fails but I just do not like the feeling of my scrotum sticking to inner thigh. Call me crazy. It is so damn hot and humid out there that my balls are hanging down to my fucking knees. I have to be careful when I sit down, so as not to sit ON the jewels. Then again, I have no intention of doing like the NFL players do. As they are practicing in this heat, in full equipment I might add, when they start to show signs of overheating, they sit in ice baths. Ain't know way the boys will allow themselves to placed in the ice bath. That is way to go for the atomic shrinkage (ala George Costanza).

Speaking of which, a thought came to me last week. I find it very interesting that I recall Anne Meara from 1970s sitcoms (she appeared in them all) and I knew she was married to Jerry Stiller and that their son was Ben Stiller (I learned that in the early 90s) but I had never really seen Jerry Stiller. Then along comes his role in Seinfeld and he works through the 90s and into the 2000s going from Seinfeld to King of Queens. I just found that kind of funny, as if he really did not work during the 70s and 80s.

With that, I am outta here! Have a good one! Ciao!

Anal Leakage

I am back. I have only two words for y'all "anal leakage". I guess it became more than two words, but "anal leakage" is quite an eye opener. I am not suffering from anal leakage, at least as far as you know, but the term popped into my head late yesterday afternoon. It must be the heat.

I have always thought it to be funny. Well, as long as it is not happening to me, or around me. It is the type of thing that works with pretty much all your senses, though for me the senses of touch and taste would be excluded (I do not know about you...and coprophiliacs out there?). For me there is the obvious sight, sound and smell (all none too pleasant).

The whole Oelestra thing (the "fat" designed to be so big so as not to pass into the body, making potato chips non fattening) cracked me up. Here you have a decidedly unhealthy population who would rather eat their fried and processed snacks than eat healthy foods and exercise being fed such fare by a number of corporations that make their money feeding crap to the masses. I am not advocating a ban on this stuff ala alcohol or tobacco. There is a large element of personal responsibility here and the best way to rid the world of this crap is to just demand better. In any event, P&G (I think) came up with this fat that the body could not absorb. All the better to fry crap in, or so they thought. The good folks who brought us the law of unintended consequences had their say. Not only does this stuff pass through you but it takes nutrients that you may have ingested, along with that bag of Doritios, out with it. Oh yeah, and the best part was this...that cramping sensation your feeling is going to lead to shit just sliding out of you. Sorry about that, but better bring a couple clean pairs of underwear and pants with you.

I mean nothing impresses the ladies more than having a pleasant conversation and then crapping your pants. Potato chip? As I think about it, if it was P&G who came up with Oelestra it may actually have been a brilliant, though backhanded, plan to sell more adult diapers (I think Depends is their brand, along with Pampers). If that was the case, more power to them. Get more fat folk in adult diapers, that way they do not have to expend energy getting up to crap. They can just sit there and go. Then again, the toilets are too small for these people (see a previous post from 2005 or 2006) and the toilet seats pinch their rather large asses.

As I am seeing it, this may have lead to a North American Sumo Culture. Anal leaking fat folks wearing adult diapers. They would look like fucking Sumo wrestlers. Well, without the funny hairdo, but both would be so fat as to have to wash themselves with a rag on a stick.

You know I did not want to do a post like this but this is what happens when two simple words just pop into my head while driving in the heat. Where the "anal leakage" came from I do not know, but I can see where it is going and I am getting off right here. It is my stop.

Enjoy the heat, enjoy the show. Ciao!