She was visiting from Vegas

The plan was to meet for lunch at the usual place but the usual place was closed so we walked across the street where we were served bad food with bad beer and bad company.

And when the usual place opened at five thirty, and our bad company sat in my usual spot, I had no trouble sitting in my least favorite seat.


badseat

When my friend handed my camera to the bartender and said, "Take a picture," this was what happened.
gift03

But she wasn't happy with her first take so she tried to improve the composition.
gift02

So when a different bartender started her shift, I ended up with this shot.
gift04

This is in the coat room
CandK2

I think this photo is funny but the one on the right does not
CandK

There was a knock on the door

Or at least I assume it was a knock; I wasn't there to hear it and also I don't have a doorbell.

Well, I actually have two doorbells but they are both sitting with a spool of telephone wire in my rather large pantry. I don't remember how they came to be in the pantry but they seem to get along with the dry goods just fine so I don't see the point in moving them but my story today isn't about doorbells.

It's about the guy that knocked when I wasn't there to hear it.


branch03

I looked out my kitchen window and noticed a big branch on the lawn instead of on the tree so I said, "Hey, we just lost a branch off the tree in front." The reply I received was, "Yeah, some people came to the front door to let us know."

I wondered why I wasn't notified as I made my way to the shed.


branch02

In the shed was my newest gas powered chainsaw which the last time I wanted to use it, it wouldn't start which meant it went unused for probably nine years. I pulled a few times on the start rope and got the same results as the last time I tried to start it; so I went to get my other gas powered chainsaw, mostly because I hadn't a clue as to where the electric chainsaw was.

It's an older, cheaper machine. I had little hope that it would start but I went through the motions: flipped closed the choke, primed the carburetor with that little bulb thing, locked the throttle opened and pulled. Then I pulled again and again and again, which might seem like a lot of pulling but not really for an old rarely ever used inexpensive chainsaw. The engine turned over after a couple more pulls so I opened the choke and pulled again, which made the engine almost kick in. I closed the choke just a hair and when I pulled the rope yet again, I got that familiar chainsaw noise.


branch01

I cut the branch up and then threw it all into that pile of other branches that I run through the chipper every once in awhile.

When I went back in, I asked about the people that came to the door. I was told it was an older Caucasian guy with a young dark skinned boy. I said that I knew the two of them and said that the guy doesn't really look friendly as a confirmation. I was told that he looked like he had the potential to be a mean drunk.

I don't actually, know the guy. I just see him walking every once in awhile with this young boy, who I think is five or six years old. At first glance, they look like an odd couple; but they seem to get along just fine. I think he's the boy's grandfather. I think I've seen the boy with his mother. I've never seen what could be his father.

I was asked why I thought that they made an odd couple seeing how I'm often seen with dark skinned children. I said that I didn't find it odd that a white guy would have a dark skinned grandchild; it's just that I thought it odd that this particular white guy would be walking around the neighborhood just hanging out with his grandson because he looked like a guy that would be pissed off about that type of thing.

After the guy informed my sister of the branch that fell was actually blocking the sidewalk, he went and moved it so it wasn't blocking the sidewalk anymore which is a very neighborly thing to do and I thought that it was even cooler that he had his grandson with him.

And, I'm a bit of an a-hole for judging him like I did.

I'm surprised I got the cheap thing started

I found out that my 16" chainsaw needs to be sharpened

Oh. Is this thing still one?

I haven't been around like I used to have been but I still show up. You know, to put my time in; I have a lot of time invested.

The bar is the lynch pin to some of my friendships.

I could give up alcohol.

I was in my usual place for a change, by the taps, and the other regulars were in their places, not by the taps and friends from work showed up. It was similar to times gone by.

My friend ordered a beer and one of the bartenders asked if he had a tab opened and he just pointed at me and when she looked at me, I rolled my eyes and said, "Yeah, he's with me."

When we settled up downstairs, the bill I was handed was for $28.00. We left $60 which was closer to what we drank.

When we got upstairs, I was greeted with cheers from the two bartenders. I don't go upstairs too often; because it's more of a club scene.



The one on the left is a friend who is in Boston visiting for a few days and that's her friend on the right. The one on the right is a new mom. I remember seeing her when she was the huge with child and early in the night she proved the rumors true of her six pack abs. She had some funky dance moves.

I wanted to touch her abs.

I Would Rather Be a Sucker Than a Person That Never Trusts.

All I wanted was a Bacon Egg and Cheese Croissan'wich Value Meal but I was going to settle for something else. I chose a McDonalds at the bus station because the parking was the easiest.

I noticed she was walking a path that would intercept me. She was young and distressed and it looked like a crash victim after whatever high she had been on the night before; she started her plea with, "Please, I'm not a bum."

She said that she was twelve dollars short of a bus ticket home and that if I would give her the twelve that she would mail me a twenty. She looked genuinely dispirit. As she was telling her story, she was holding a sizable amount of bills, neatly folded in half in her right hand.

I pulled what I had from my pocket; it was three singles and a twenty which was what was left from $110 from the night before at the bar. I actually thought about giving her the twenty and asking for change and then laughed to myself that I would even think of such a thing.

I handed over my chance at an Egg McMuffin Value Meal and consoled myself that three bucks would at least get me a coffee. She asked if I had a business card, I did but it was in the car, across the street and a quarter way down the block.

I told her not to worry about it; she thanked me at least three times as she walked away.

As I thought about where the closest ATM was that wouldn't charge me a fee, I thought that I should have had her walk with me to the car so that I could get a business card. It would have been interesting to see if she followed through or not. I wouldn't have had her mail money but maybe a thank you note, or maybe an email, if she really wanted to do something.

I also thought that I should have walked her to the ticket window and paid the difference for the bus ticket; but then I thought that I would rather be a sucker than a person that never trusts.

I said; He's neither fat enough nor old enough to be called Big Daddy

I'll google names once in a while; mostly my own; mostly to see if I have 'made the papers'.

But I'll google the owner's name too. I was informed that I could tract her bankruptcy proceeding for $57, this past Sunday.

I declined.

I was walking down Newbury Street trying to figure out why two trolleys needed three hundred feet of parking space when someone turned around and called my name. She lied and said that I had looked the same as when she had last seen me and she calculated that she had last seen me over thirteen years ago because that's how old her son was.

There is a joke there somewhere.

I take a little bit of solace that the screw-ups are totally of my own doing. I haven't been getting the information that I need and when I ask, I'm told that it's on it's way.

It must be a long way.

He dropped off the paperwork the Friday before the week of July 4th. I started the process of faxing it somewhere and waited. He started dropping by the office, looking for his permit and leaving me notes when he hasn't found it.

When he got me on the phone today, I assured him that it was on my list of things to do and that I was aware that it is an urgent issue for him but currently there were other issues that were more urgent to me or more accurately, my boss.

"I'll get to it."

"Okay, my friend. The sooner the better because they need it to help get their visas."

He wears Panama hats and his shirts button at his navel and his name is Armando.

I'm pretty certain that I wouldn't read it.

I started making plans the night before and pushed everything into the next morning and when the next morning came, I basically changed all my plans into making a pot of coffee.

You may think that making a pot of coffee is no big deal but I grind my own beans and use a coffee press so it's a bigger effort then an automatic drip.

The coffee from a coffee press is a different breed of coffee; at first I really didn't like it much, but since, I have acquired a taste for it. I think I mostly stayed with it because I paid over fifty bucks for the press and I would feel like a moron every time I saw the press, if I wasn't using it.

I've still been writing a little but I usually cannot muster enough care to post.

What follows is the stuff that didn't make it to this blog previously. I usually will briefly read over a thing to make certain that it makes some sort of sense but I haven't done that with the words below so if you read it, it is at your own risk.

I would recommend that you stop wasting your life and not read what's below but you should know better than me on how to live your own life.

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June 29, 2009

I’ve never known what I wanted to do in life. I’ve never really had any long term goals.

I’ve had lots of hobbies, all of which I’ve gotten bored with.

My Dakota truck failed the state emissions test this past Saturday. I guess the check engine light came on and in Massachusetts, you will not pass the state’s emissions test if the check engine light is on. And I knew this before I drove it to the inspection station, the damn little light chose to shine when the inspector turned the ignition.

I’m pretty sure that I just need a tune-up.

I had just fixed the driver’s side window that had been broken since the last time I had it state inspected. I had tired to sneak the fact that the window didn’t roll down or up properly from the inspector but he found out. When he handed me the keys, he said, “You should really get that window fixed.”

I didn’t want to press my luck so I made certain that I fixed the window before I brought it in this year. The trickiest part is usually getting the interior door panel off without busting up any of those clips and finding a way to pop off that retaining ring on the window crank, if you have a window crank. I’m not a fan of power windows, unless I’m trying to roll down the passenger side window from the driver’s side seat, then I think power windows are great.

I’ve got two months to solve the ‘check engine’ light problem before enforcement personnel can ticket me.

…

I believe it has rained in Boston at some time of every day for the past three weeks and we have another week of rain ahead.

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June 26, 2009

I’m not getting important things done.

I’m missing deadlines.

Most of my problems stem from the fact that I don’t know what time of the month it is. I can tell you what day of the week it is most of the time and I can probably even tell you the date if you ask but for some reason my brain isn’t registering when it’s the beginning, middle or end of the month, which are mostly the time frames I have to hit.

There will be times at the beginning of the month when I’ll have to get something done before the end of the month and I’ll tell myself that I’ll get it done next week and then the next thing I realize is that it’s the 29th or later.

I can’t remember when I did things and I’m confusing jobs when I start to talk about them.

My super brain is letting me down. It’s like my brain has gotten tired of being superior to other brains located in other cubes and has reverted to being average and the average brain can’t effectively handle my everyday work load.

Is workload one word or two words when used like it’s used above?

Come on brain, stop just phoning it in. Pay attention. Get your act together. This stuff shouldn’t be hard. You shouldn’t be making these errors.

I try to be part of the team. I try to not to stand out too much. I try to be like one of the guys. But I don’t try too hard. I like to be on the fringe; one foot in, one foot out; known to everyone but not what you would call popular. But I prefer not to be set too far apart, mostly because some freedom is lost when there are a lot of eyes on you not to mention privacy.

It’s a delicate balance.

Lately, I feel like I’ve been incorporated into the crowd.

I don’t like being in the middle of the crowd but I also don’t make an effort to change my location.

I feel like my soul has given up which would be fine if my spirit was onboard with it but my spirit is wondering why my soul isn’t fighting harder, why it isn’t fighting at all.

I think part of the problem is that I think I will survive, somehow. And survive by just taking it day to day, making no big effort. I may come out permanently damaged or changed but I’ll still be around; I’ll still exist tomorrow to exist for a tomorrow after that.

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June 25, 2009

So, I’m trying.

But I’m still not doing my best. I’m still not making any great effort.

One thing, that may seem unrelated is that, I’m eating something in the morning and making that first cup of coffee at home. I was hoping for a little bit of an energy boast to get me through the day but I don’t feel more energetic. But I have found that I feel hotter while I’m on the subway; I’m hoping it’s because of a increase in my metabolism.

I’ve lost a pound or two.

It’s a struggle to get out of bed; I have these long debates on when and whether I’m going to toss my feet over the side of the bed.

Isn’t this exciting.

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June 24, 2009

He’s been complaining about one of our co-workers for years. I sure that he thinks that he has voiced his opinion to the folks in charge and I’m equally sure that the folks in charge don’t know what he’s talking about because when he’s bringing it up: he never mentions any names or jobs or specific issues. He comes off like a scattered-brained bitter crazy man.

Even if he did articulate his complaints properly, the bosses wouldn’t do anything about it. His main complaint is that he works harder than the other guy and he wants the other guy to work as hard as him. The trouble is: that he doesn’t work as hard ad he thinks he does, he refuses to see the benefits he is allowed that others are not, and that he stressed himself out by doing other people’s job and things he just isn’t supposed to do.

We’ve told him for years that making an extra effort goes unrewarded and making no effort at all goes unpunished, so if his work load is bothering him then he should just do those things that he is responsible for and just work his eight hours a day.

For years he has ignored this advice and his stress levels have increased and I no longer make time to casually talk to him because he has been so negative.

Well lately, he has changed his work habits, he comes in late, he disappears for hours and he leaves early.

I want to call him a hypocrite.

Or kick him in his nut sack.