Tag: North Carolina

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All I Want For Christmas

This one kinda hit me this morning so I thought I’d better jump on it and see what I can build. I think I’ve done something similar in the past, but tbh I’m not interested in checking, and besides, even if I did, I’m fairly confident this’ll be different enough that there won’t be a bunch of overlap. Even if there is some, everybody likes reruns now and again, right?

Yes, I totally glossed over the fact that I haven’t put anything up here in a good long while. I’ve also conveniently tuned out any voices that may or may not have been harping at me to do something here (I’m looking in your general direction now Ray) but I have, in fact been typing, occasionally furiously, on something else and managed to add several thousand words to it over the last few months. So there’s that.

But now, onward!

With the holiday approaching, whichever one you may celebrate, I felt like this would be a good time to share my thoughts on giving. B2 and I were talking about Christmas the other day, specifically about gift giving. And as I laid out my thoughts, a sometimes opaque process, I’ll grant you that, she saw where I was headed and agreed with me completely. I’d like to share those thoughts with you all (all 7 of you faithful readers) here in case anyone feels moved to appropriate the idea.

I have a pretty good life, by any measure. I have a nice home (due in no small part to the presence of B2 but that’s a story for another time), I have a nice car, I have more clothes than I need and a surprising number of shoes, especially if you’ll recall my comments from a much earlier post about how living with Diane and Caitlin was like living with Imelda Marcos. And if you’re too young to remember Imelda Marcos, I suggest you take a second and GTS “Imelda Marcos and shoes” and this will become crystal clear to you. I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I have gotten to the point in my life where I don’t really need anything and if I decide I want something, I go and buy it for myself. This is not to say I’m a Rockefeller (again, too young? GTS the name) by any means, merely that, by and large, life has been pretty darn kind to me. I mean, when my time to shuffle off this mortal coil comes, my kids are not going to become independently wealthy. This should not be breaking news to any of them btw, and if it is, well I guess they’re not quite as bright as I’d given them credit for being. I mean I’m not going to leave them nothing, they’ll surely be able to enjoy a lovely plate of nachos or some similar, tasty, small plate on my largesse.

Bon appétit you guys!

As I was saying…

Typically, my tendency to buy for myself is not a problem for anyone concerned. However I recognize the stress this can put on my loved ones, particularly around this time of year, well, you feel me, right? So I told B2 instead of spending money on each other, with the exception of surcee type things, stocking stuffers if you will, we should instead look for someone or something in the community that can use a hand up around this time of year. I also reached out to my kids and suggested instead of getting me something their money would be better spent making a contribution to the non-profit of their choice. I made the same request to half of B2‘s kids too. Haven’t had the chance to tell her other one yet, but that’ll be taken care of soon. When her son asked me last week what was on my list, I explained my thoughts. His first comment was confirming Ryan did a run for one and when I told him yes, he said that was where they’d make their donation.

That, my friends, is the essence of what I’d like my Christmas to be. Taking care of those less fortunate. I’m a little embarrassed it’s taken me this long in my life to realize the things that are truly important, but there’s no time like the present to go about doing the right thing, you know? I read an aphorism a while back, that, while I’m certain isn’t new, was the first time I read it and it kind of struck a chord with me. It said –

“The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second best time is today.”

Man, that was a throat punch to my sense of self satisfaction. It really helped to form this whole thought process too. I should’ve planted this tree some time ago. But I didn’t. So I’m planting it today. And I’m grateful B2 jumped right on it too. Just another of the many reasons I’m fortunate to have found her.

I guess that’s about all I’m trying to get across here today. I hope it helps inspire someone else with a little extra this year to give to those in need. If you’ve been doing this already, good on you, I’m proud to know you. If you’re not at the point in your life where you can do this, I totally get it. File this little gem away for when that time comes for you.

Remember the tree.

And, of course…

Peace

PS- Geez I really haven’t done one of these in a long damn time. I thought I’d try and add something to these posts, infrequent though they may be. I’m almost always at a coffeehouse when I fire off one of these potential Pulitzer nominees and probably equally as often I’ve got something bouncing between my ears at a reasonable decibel level *ahem* and I thought, for the sake of idk what, I’d include the particular artist in the post. So for the inaugural edition, today’s musical guest has been Turnpike Troubadours. It’s been a pretty enjoyable ride too, I must say. Their selection was triggered by a post I saw a couple days ago that their frontman got himself sober and the band is going back out on the road. This is great news for them, of course and on many levels, but for anyone that has ever seen them live it’s a pretty damn good day. They are a rollicking good time live, I assure you and I’m looking forward to them hitting this part of the country.

Ok, that’s all I’ve got for ya. Be well, happy holidays and all that stuff!

Peace

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Southernisms – The Sequel

Today feels like a good day for a little light-hearted fare. So if you’ll allow me to play Mr. Language Person (with apologies to Dave Barry) then let’s dive right in to a few more southernisms, shall we?

Astute and/or long time readers of this page may recall (and it should be easy since production numbers have been pretty low this year) a semi-recent post in which I referenced my immersion into the dialect of the American southeast. Of course I’ve been compiling additions to the list since the seed for the original post was planted with the intention of doing exactly this, so, without further ado, here you are.

One afternoon, a handful of weeks back we had one of those days where it was simultaneously sunny and raining. Not exactly a rarity on par with finding a four leaf clover, or hitting the lotto, but pretty uncommon nonetheless. When B2 asked me if I knew what this phenomenon was called, I must admit, my first thought was not “Oh good, more fodder for the blog!” But it might’ve flashed in almost instantly after, as she told me…

“It means the devil is beating his wife.”

I’ll pause here briefly, to kinda let that one bounce around your brain as it did mine…

I’ve gotta say right here, I had no clue what she was going to say; but that particular group of words, in that particular order, was not something I would have ever guessed prior to hearing them. And, even though I didn’t doubt what she was saying was, in fact, a thing, I felt the need to go ahead and GTS that phrase. Lo and behold, it’s an actual thing here in the south.

Now, for your further education (because, hey, I’m nothing if not helpful) and in no particular order, here are more of my favorite Southernisms-

Let’s say you’re sitting outside, enjoying a lovely evening. Save for one thing. Getting dive-bombed by those blood-sucking, little, flying bastards aka mosquitos. And they’re feasting on you. You’ve been “bug bit”. As in-

“I was sitting in the carport but I had to come back in, I was getting bug bit.

Or suppose you’re spending your Saturday morning by strolling around downtown. You’ve decided you’d like to stop by the farmer’s market for some fresh, home-grown produce. As you’re making your way leisurely around the center of town you encounter an acquaintance and, in passing, you casually mention you’d like to stop by said farmer’s market for some peaches. (This btw is getting near to the end of the season for them and if you happen to be traveling south, I encourage you to grab some, they are amazing.) Your friend has a warning for you that includes the Southernism “get gone”. This is how the conversation might go-

“Honey you’d best get there right now before they get gone”

I feel like I should point out here, that both of the examples above are not in a southern dialect. I’m still y’all-less. Mostly. I did throw one out recently (to other drivers. I know, right? Who could’ve guessed?) but I’m not sure it counts since I was in Illinois when it happened. And it still feels disingenuous on my part to start trying to speak like someone that has spent the better part, or all of, their life living in the south. For better or worse, I’m a midwesterner and my speech patterns, ingrained for lo these many (many. Many. MANY.) years are with me to the end. And I’m ok with that fwiw.

Moving on, here’s another southernism, kinda. It’s something near and dear to my heart and tbh it took me by surprise just how wonderful I found it to be. Hand Pies (trust me, the capitalization is deserved). These things are the real deal, yet based on my childhood I never expected them to be. Most, if not all of you are likely aware of Hostess fruit pies. They were, in my case, a random, pleasant addition to my parents trips to the grocery store. And they were fine when I was 12. But at some point you realize that they are, in essence, cardboard quality pastry dough with jelly smeared on the inside, and watered down glazing on the outside. Again, it was fine for the childhood me, but I outgrew them and, as an adult, never really had the conscious thought of “I need to buy some next time I go to the store.” Living down here I’ve seen Hand Pies (I’ve made the editorial decision that, henceforth, just as RVCB’s! will always have an exclamation point, Hand Pies shall always be capitalized.) on menus in a few different southern comfort food type restaurants, and tried them at one of my favorite places in my town. And that one was significantly better than the commercially made product of my youth. But recently we stopped in at a coffeehouse/bakery in Winston-Salem on a visit to the parents of B2 , at a place called Lavender and Honey. On the display counter I noticed a collection of Hand Pies, peach in this case, and they looked amazing. Better than the ones I’d seen here previously. So I ordered one. Can I just take a minute here while I flash back on that in my mind?

OH MY FRICKIN’ GOD IT WAS INCREDIBLE!!!

Like, incredible as in I heard a gospel choir in full throat busting out in my head when I stopped to think about them just now.

Fluffy, light, flavorful, lovely. I mean they were so damn good I’m compiling a list of felonies I’d be willing to commit just to get another one. It’s about a 45 minute drive up there, so it’s not like I can just hop over and get one. I mean, of course, I could do that, but I’ve got to have some semblance of restraint, you know? Especially when I consider how hard it was to get into my suit last weekend. Oof. Go ahead and insert a “fat guy in a little coat” mental image here if you like, cause god knows I tried to insert one into the post and couldn’t. But yeah, that’s pretty much spot on.

I guess that’s about all I’m going to attempt here today. Except for one more thing. I think I’m going to start a new ‘feature within the feature’ kinda thing starting with today’s post and continuing until I forget to do it. Whenever I work on a post, for basically as long as I can recall, I’ve got music playing. Whether blaring (oops, I mean rolling along at an audibly safe level) through my headphones, or on the rare occasions I write at home blasting through the, well if I’m home alone it’s rockin’ through the whole house. But since I’m currently at a coffeehouse I’ve got Foo Fighters racing around my brain. This is in tribute to a video I saw this morning. It was from last night’s FF concert at the Forum in Los Angeles and it featured a performance by Nandi Bushell. If you’re not familiar you need to GTS this young lady, she is the absolute shit. Last year, at the ripe old age of 11 she challenged Dave Grohl to a drum off and she killed it. They kept up the video correspondence culminating in her walking on stage and playing “Everlong” with the band last night. I’ll try and save you a little legwork, click here to watch this, now 12 year old, genius rock the eff out. I sat there the whole time with a big, stupid, grin on my face watching, I hope you enjoy it just as much.

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Write, Write, Write…

Ok, I’ll start by addressing the elephant in the room. I haven’t been writing much lately. Like, seven posts (not including this one, since, as I’m writing this now, it hasn’t actually been posted yet) this year. And, four of those seven came in January so, yes, it’s safe to say I haven’t been writing much lately.

I don’t know that there’s an easy answer why either. I’ve had the time. I don’t suddenly hate writing. I’ve kept the upkeep on this site current. I still have functioning computers on which to write. There’s certainly been no shortage of things about which I could write. I mean, have you looked at the news lately? I just haven’t felt like writing. Despite the occasional prod from various friends.

And then, the other day, I heard from a very dear (No, not you Ray) friend, castigating (not as painful as it sounds btw) me for my lack of literary production. And I took a step back and did a little self-examination. Figuratively. And I said to myself “Self” I said, “I need to do a better job of writing things about stuff.”

So here we are.

Let’s see now… what to write about… Hmmm… Ok, how bout the weather? No, too small-talky. Maybe some of the amazing concerts I’ve been to lately? No, too non-existenty. How bout them Cubs? Nope, too flashbacky. I know! Let’s talk about politics! LOL, just kidding. Mostly. I’ll fight that temptation. Probably. Maybe if I try this…

#LillyNO has a new bestie, #LollyStopEffingBarking. A Goldendoodle (there’s a name I never thought I’d write. Also, I feel like Ned Flanders whenever I say/write it) whose real name is Lolly (Yup, Lilly and Lolly) has taken up (purely coincidental naming too) residence with us. A very sweet dog, kind of a lovable lug, has without question, a totally under-developed sense of threat assessment. Somebody comes to the front door? She barks like she means business. Squirrel scampers down from a tree? She barks like she means business. The neighbor’s cat walks across the yard? She barks like she means business. A bird flies overhead? She barks like she means business. A leaf falls from a tree two streets over? She barks like she means business. The sun shines? She barks like she means business. Which, truth be told, is really only a minor annoyance. Although I do find it pretty aggravating at night; as I’m just drifting off to sleep and she loses her shit barking because the wind picks up from 1 mph to 2 mph. You get the picture. But the two dogs get on famously and they’re pretty hysterical together. They’ll play tug-of-war with each other, or play fight (generally with great care to not hurt the other, although every once in a while one of them will get a little overzealous and the other will “yip” causing me to send them to their neutral corners), or try to steal toys from each other, or just lounge with (or on) each other. Neither has really shown much in the way of dominance over the other, but each will try from time to time. All in all, it’s been a really good experience with the two of them and it wasn’t something I’d ever really planned on happening.

If you think the last couple of paragraphs have been a little bit “beat around the bush”y, well there’s a good reason for that. They are. I’m trying to think of a way to get to the point I actually intended to make a while ago. #LollyStopEffingBarking didn’t move in here by herself. Her person, the previously mentioned Beautiful Blonde has moved in along with her.

This started as a supportive gesture. B² decided that after almost 30 years in the same house, it was time to downsize. So she put her house on the market and started looking for a smaller house to buy and, trying to be helpful, I suggested she move in here. My thinking was by doing that, it would eliminate, or at least reduce, the stress of having to find a new house. You know, like “OMG, I sold my house and now I need to find one by tomorrow!” and ending up with a house that you’re going to spend a lot of money on and live in for a really long time and yet from day one you never really liked it all that much. Makes reasonable sense, right? Plus we both really enjoy spending our time together, so why not do something that allows us to spend as much time together as possible? She agreed and, well, here we are several months later doing quite well together.

Not without adjustments though. I’ve had to learn not to try and do/pay for/handle everything that comes along. And that hasn’t been easy for me, in fact I’d say it’s a work-in-progress, but it’s been totally worth it. It’s making me a better person too. Which is never a bad thing.

Plus, I’m learning to speak Southern. And, really, why Rosetta Stone or Babbel (or Berlitz for you older readers) haven’t come up with a class for this is beyond me. The immersion training I’m getting here is pretty thorough. I almost never have to say “Wait, what did you just say?” or “What does that mean?” or “I know all those words, but I’ve never heard them in that order before.” anymore. Well, hardly ever. But, between B² and the next door neighbor, I’ve learned, for starters, that if someone is going to “Jerk a knot in you” or “Give you the back of my mouth” well, those are bad things. Whereas, a “Surcee” or “Wet nuts” are good things. The first two should be self-explanatory, but the second two may cause some looks of bewilderment so, allow me to explain. A “Surcee” is a small, thoughtful, no occasion gift. While “Wet nuts” can be found as an addition on many sundaes down here. They are walnuts or pecans in syrup and don’t think for a second that they are anything like dry nuts. Because they’re far better. Then there’s “might could” as in “I guess we might could go on down to the Tractor Supply and get us some food for the dogs.” This, of course, is followed by the negative “mightn’t” as in “I mightn’t oughta go out today, it’s fixin’ to rain.”

I’d like to get into more of these Southernisms, but my stomach is eatin’ at my backbone, so I think I’m gonna go get me something on a biscuit before I get to dog lippin’ myself.

Peace

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Now Where Was I?

Welp, I pooped in a box today. How’s that for a way to start this post? 

That’s not technically true btw. I actually pooped into a plastic bucket and then placed the bucket inside the box. This is all due to my annual checkup, which took place last week. My Doc gave me the option of sending a sample in vs getting a colonoscopy and I chose the poop in a box route. It was ridiculously convenient too. I came home from running errands one afternoon and saw a package waiting for me on my front porch and thought “Ooooooh I got something!”  You can imagine my disappointment when I realized that, instead of some tasty treat a thoughtful, Beautiful Blonde has sent me, I would soon poop in a box.  Once you start saying that, it’s not easy to stop, it kind of rolls off the tongue, which is probably the wrong metaphor to use given the subject matter.  Still, you have to admit I’m right. Also, it got me thinking about jobs. There are many, many great jobs out there. I think I can safely say opening boxes of poop; eight hours a day, five days a week, is not one of them. I’m not sure what would be worse; knowing box after box after box contains someone’s poop, or opening a box and being surprised that the contents were poop. Probably the surprise box, but the surprise would wear off pretty quickly after the 40th or 50th box, I’m sure. And, yet, someone does this job. I hope it at least pays well. 

I’ve been thinking about jobs for the last week or two, a lot more than usual. This is due to a handful of conversations I’ve had lately with the Heir to the Throne. Wonderful grandchild that he is, he came out to central North Carolina to pay me a visit and get away from some of the stressors life can throw at a 19 year old. And there are many. We’ve talked about jobs, careers, futures, relationships, several things of a serious nature. We’ve also talked a little bit about pooping in a box, because who better to appreciate hearing about poop in a box than a teenage male?  

It hasn’t all been serious talks though. We’ve also managed to sneak in a little fishing along with a quick trip out to the mountains where we did a little sightseeing.  While an attempted stop at Grandfather Mountain turned into an epic fail; due to the pandemic you can only get access if you make an appointment, which we did not do, our Plan B became a stop at Linville Falls, which was beautiful.  We’ve also visited what has become my go-to group of restaurants in the area for guests from back home. Lexington BBQ for, well, bbq; Magnolia 23 for old-school, home-style, Southern cooking; and Johnson’s for a lovely local favorite, cheeseburgers “all the way” which is to say a cheeseburger with chili, slaw, and mustard on it. It’s pretty tasty too, despite how you may think it sounds. I’m really glad he was able to come out for a visit, I think it did both of us some good.

He’s heading home tomorrow morning. I am too actually although I’ll be a couple hours behind him. I’m coming home for a couple weeks to give Ryan and Danielle a hand.  Ryan starts a new, still experimental, treatment using the drug ketamine. The long-term results are encouraging, so here’s hoping. He’ll need a chauffeur for the treatments, since there will be some short-term level of impairment involved, and that’s where I come in. Six treatments over ten days.

Ok, so quick disclaimer; I wrote the bulk of what you’ve read so far Friday morning while the car was getting a pre-road trip service.  I’m currently sitting at the kitchen table watching the two littlest ones playing in their inflatable pool in the backyard while #LillyNO is crashed on the couch.  We drove in yesterday, pretty uneventfully.  Well, let me take that back.  Yesterday was, in fact, a momentous trip in that, in all of the shuttles back and forth from NC to IL, #LillyNO had NEVER produced a drop of pee in the fine state of West Virginia even though every, single trip, either northbound or southbound included a stop there.  You may recall, or not, that I’m particularly fond of stopping in Beckley, WV where there is a place, Tamarack, that features work by local artisans.  It’s a great place to walk around a bit, get a bite to eat, and check out the work of some really talented people.  We have spent, literally, as long as an hour there, walking around the pet-walking area, while #LillyNO sniffs everything and anything and yet, never, ever did what I intended her to do while we were stopped there.  And yesterday, as we neared exit 45 (the Tamarack exit) or at least we were within 25 miles of it, #LillyNO started whining, like, a LOT, so I pulled off at the next exit.  We walked around for maybe five minutes when, lo and behold, she burst her WV seal so to speak.  I can’t imagine beaming more brightly if I had won a Pulitzer and a Nobel on the same day. Shoot throw in a Grammy, Tony, Oscar, Heisman, or any other award for that matter.

Ok, disclaimer number two… I had to walk away from this production several hours ago when, according to my laptop, the server at Word Press stopped functioning. I’m guessing maybe the fact that it was receiving content from me for the first time in a really long time short-circuited something.

I’m gonna wrap this one up here before something else happens and I can’t get it posted. I’m hoping this will get those of you that have been questioning why I haven’t written anything to get off my proverbial back. You know who you are. I’m looking at you Ray.

With a little luck, I’m going to try and squeeze in a visit or two with some friends while I’m here, but I make no promises. Love to all.

Peace

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Social Distancing

Full disclosure up in here, I started this one several days ago. I added a bit here or there and, it occurred to me I may as well change this around a little bit so it reads more like a daily (ish) journal. So here goes…

Coronavirus update March 20th – I didn’t even put pants on yesterday.

Before you get too much of a visual fright fest, I should clarify. I wasn’t half naked or anything, I just didn’t put on actual pants. I wore I guess what you would call loungewear all day. I didn’t leave the house for anything, so I didn’t see the point in putting real clothes on, you know?  I also spent a good portion of my day binge watching “Schitt’s Creek” and if you’ve never watched it, oh my god you need to. Maybe a little bit not for kids-ish but good Christ it’s hysterical. 

One would think having an increase in idle time might steer me back to this place more regularly and yet, today is literally the first time I’ve even looked at the site, and that was mainly due to a semi-regular perusal of my junk mail inbox where I found two website related spam emails.  I’ve had a couple ideas bounce around in my head but, since I try to steer clear of overtly partisan political posts, I’ve let them wither on the vine.

Coronavirus update March 43rd – As we all steer through our new ‘Rona normal, we can still find joy in some moments. I get it, sometimes that’s really hard to do. For example (and I totally get that this is a first world problem) due to the pandemic, we’ve had two concerts and two music festivals canceled and/or postponed. That’s a drag, no doubt, but it’s obviously the right call. But there have also been some wonderful musical moments these last couple weeks. Several artists have taken to posting videos of themselves doing solo, acoustic songs from their homes. BJ Barham, the frontman of American Aquarium has streamed himself playing his albums, one at a time, on a platform called StageIt and for $15.00 you can sign in and watch. So we did, a couple of albums. Drew and Ellie Holcomb have done a nightly bit called “Kitchen Covers” where they perform acoustic covers of a variety of songs, literally from their kitchen. I saw Jason Isbell cover the DBT song “Heathens” the other day as a birthday tribute to his friend Patterson Hood. These things have brought joy.

Music is rarely, if ever, about rational thought. Music should move your soul.  Michael McDonald may be a wonderful human being, perhaps he saved baby seals, or something. But imho he’s a hack musician that fits in comfortably alongside Journey on my personal skin crawl scale.  Huh. That came out of nowhere. I guess there was a little lingering animosity from my semi-recent post about musical talent. Or lack thereof. Just sayin’.

Coronavirus update March 65th – Here’s a plus. I tend to get bored with some of the mundane daily grind type tasks around the house. But now, it’s quite a bit harder to gloss these over. I think we’re going to clean the windows today. Probably. Possibly. Maybe. Tomorrow. Ish. I don’t think I’m THAT bored yet. I have to say though, my lawn looks better than it has, probably, ever. In a similar vein; I feel like I’m one step closer to being a Southerner. I spread my first batch of pine straw today. For the uninitiated, pine straw is pretty much what you think it is; the needles from southern pine. It’s used like mulch down here and it’s pretty much everywhere.

Coronavirus update March 98th – There have been a couple FaceTimes with the littles or the middles (I just thought of that, I kind of like the term) and a phone call or two from the HTTT, and these are always a pleasant diversion. I’m hopeful I’ll be able to make my annual pilgrimage back to northern Illinois in time to celebrate the Reigning Princess’ birthday with the fam instead of long distance, but I guess that’s up to the ‘Rona. I’m fairly confident this feeling that March of 2020 has been the. longest. month. ever. is a feeling that is shared by a multitude of people, if not most of the population at large.

Coronavirus update March 103rd – We actually got out a little today. In some of my travels since I moved down here, I noticed a sign for the Pisgah Covered Bridge, so I knew it was a thing, I just never took the time to check it out. Today, we did. It was pretty cool. Built in 1911, it was taken over by the state (or county or something) back at the end of the 90’s and is now a tourist-y kinda thing. And it was great way to spend an hour out in the sunshine and fresh air while still maintaining appropriate social distance from people. There’s a little creek that runs under it (duh, it’s a bridge) and it was just a very tranquil spot with a short (quarter mile or so) walking path around it. We may go back in the not too distant future for a picnic, corona permitting.

Coronavirus update April 1st – It’s actually, finally, for real for real not March anymore! Yaay us! I’m sure things are similar wherever you’re reading this, but down here it is certainly so; toilet paper has become like Bigfoot in that there are rumors it exists, but no one has seen it. I have a reasonable amount on hand (no pun intended)(also, sorry if that triggers a visual) so I’m not terribly worried about that. Yet.

Coronavirus update April 3rd – I feel like I need to mention that it was a year ago today life got turned on its ear. Last April 3rd I got a text from Danielle asking me if I had a few minutes to talk. That was when she told me about Ryan’s PTSD. I’ve written about it several times over the last few months and I’m not digging deeply into it now, other than to say he’s (we all have really) come a long way in the last 12 months. That’s not to say he’s in the clear by any means. Only that he’s in a much better space than he was a year ago, and I’m grateful for that. And I’m grateful for the incredible amount of support they’ve received from so many places and so many people. It’s truly humbling. At one point several months ago, when a bunch of support came rolling their way, he told me that he felt like George Bailey. That was great to hear and I thought it was an accurate analogy for him to make.

Coronavirus update April 4th – If you’re thinking I’ve been repeatedly burying the lede, well then, you’ve been paying attention. And if you haven’t, I’ll help you out. I’ve used the plural “we” multiple times as opposed to the singular “I” or “me” throughout this post. There’s a reason for that. I’m about to introduce a new character into the ensemble cast of this fine piece of literary achievement.

If you recall my post about traveling to Denver, you may also recall how I went back to shaving my head to avoid the Doc Brown comparisons. What was left unsaid was this- when I left for the airport, I stopped in to my local coffeehouse/restaurant for a road latte. When I walked in, one of the employees of said place, a woman I had noticed in there before, many times, saw me walking in and reacted in a way no one has ever reacted to me. That is to say, she was happy to see me. Like, really happy. Like, REALLY, REALLY happy to see me. And, as it turns out, she is a big fan of the shaved-headed me. Long story short, the Beautiful Blonde and I have spent quite a lot of time together these last several months. Despite all the hurdles life has placed before me, I’m as happy as I’ve been in a very long time and I have her to thank for it. Obviously none of us know what the future holds. But we’re enjoying this part of the ride as long as it lasts and we’ll see where we go from here.

Stay safe peeps. Keep socially distant, wash your hands, cover your cough, play nice with each other, and all the other things we learned as children. It’s amazing how far those simple lessons will take you, not just during a pandemic, but always. And, as always…

Peace

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They Came (and are coming) From Afar

First things first…

This past Sunday marked two years since my last day in the firehouse. Where does the time go? I mean, it does, what it does, marches on, but still. Two years have flown by. And, I must say, I’ve enjoyed almost every single minute of it. We’ve had bumps in the road, of course, everyone does, but all in all, I still highly recommend retirement.

So as you’re all well aware, I’m nothing if not a smooth segueist (I think I just invented that word btw) and as I find myself in the midst of a visitor-y part of the year, I must point out here that the first of the visitors came from the aforementioned firehouse. Last week TJ and Bob (or Bob and TJ if you prefer) came out for a visit. We had a great time, I got caught up on most if not all of the shenanigans that tend to take place around a firehouse, introduced the fellas to some excellent examples of southern dining, showed off the highly regarded NC Zoo (more on that in a bit) and in what was maybe the high point of my year so far, was treated to some of Bob’s home-made deep-dish Chicago-style pizza. In fact, I’m not sure what was better; actually eating the pizza or the warm fuzzy feeling I got when, as we were unloading their bags from the car they mentioned that Bob brought along the stuff he needed to make me a pizza. And I’m not even joking about that. It truly was the coolest feeling to know they thought enough of this old retired guy to bring a taste of homemade home out to me. The pizza was, not surprisingly, wonderful. Pizza notwithstanding, Wednesday may well have been our best food day. I took them to Lexington, NC for some authentic western North Carolina BBQ served up with local slaw and hush puppies. We ate way too much. Then that evening I took them to a place here in Asheboro, Magnolia 23, for some down home, southern style soul food. TJ had Chicken Pie and I wish I knew how to describe it to you but it tasted wonderful. Bob and I each had Fried Chicken and it was really top notch. All of the food is prepared from recipes passed down from the owners mothers. We gorged ourselves almost to the point of regret, but it was too good to push back from the table. Speaking of which, we followed that up with a short walk to (lol) The Table, the local bakery/coffeehouse/restaurant for dessert and coffee. My choice of restaurants was very well received, so yay me.

A few days or so before the boys arrived, I got a text from TJ asking if there was a zoo close by me. I said there was and that we could certainly go check it out. Neither of them struck me as “zoo guys” necessarily, but hey, who am I to judge? Besides, I didn’t really have a solid plan in place for entertaining them and the zoo is a good way to spend a day here. A couple days later I got another text telling me they had gotten an AirBnB in town, to which I responded with something along the lines of “You fine gentlemen will do nothing of the sort.” *hint* the real version had a lot more profanity. Long story short I told them they were staying with me and not to waste their money. Based on my interpretation of our conversation (you would think red flags would have started waving in my brain, but, well, me) on Tuesday we walked around the zoo for several hours in 90º heat, sweating profusely. The next evening, as we were chatting in my carport, letting our too large meal digest, the conversation turned to my surprise that there was actually an AirBnB in Asheboro. TJ informed me it was near the zoo. And that was why he had asked about its proximity to me. Insert stupid face >here< but at least it confirmed my hunch that neither of them are particularly “zoo guys”

The final part of my visitor-palooza starts this afternoon when the Quiet Child arrives with the Boy Genius and the Reigning Princess. To say I’m looking forward to seeing them is a gross understatement of epic proportions. I just checked their status (technology is occasionally my friend) and they’re about four hours out, so woohoo! We’re going to check out the Civil Rights Museum in Greensboro and maybe a couple other civil rights sites in the area. There’s a rich history in this part of the state for the many battles waged back in the 60’s to end segregation and Jim Crow laws and I’m happy to share those things. We’ll wrap their visit up with a couple days out at Carolina Beach. With no hurricanes in the forecast, it should be really nice.

So, with that, I’m going to hit the “Publish” button and go run a couple last-minute errands before they get here.

Peace

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Where It Began. Or Maybe, When.

So, I alluded to this several times over the last little bit, but ten years ago today I hit the “Post” button for the first time. This was the result, such as it is. It was viewed by a whopping 26 hearty souls. But I didn’t really care about quantity (some would argue I wasn’t concerned with quality either) so much as I wanted to get something out there. In the years between then and now, I’ve written on a few different topics, some intensely personal, some random observations, and some, well, some place in the middle of those two poles. It’s really been a lot of fun, I must say.

And, at times, a little painful.

For today, I’d rather avoid the painful part.

I know, let’s get a little old business out of the way. My unpaid research assistant (a.k.a. the Oldest One) did a little GTSing for me and found out there are no less than fifteen towns named Acme in these here United States and that one is, in fact, in North Carolina. Named (according to Wikipedia fwiw) after a local manufacturing company where I believe they made earthquake pills, rockets, anvils, time machines, portable holes, and other anti-roadrunner devices. So there’s that.

Also, there may or may not be a hurricane bearing down on my part of the country again. At this point it’s too soon to know with any real certainty where this one will go, but as of this morning the track seems to keep it off shore and we’ll only get an inch or two of rain. If a hurricane is going to hit, I think we can all agree one that comes at you like a Girl Scout desperate to sell one last box of Thin Mints is far better than one that comes at you like you owe it money after a string of unsuccessful wagers, if you get my drift.

I know, let’s do a travelogue! I haven’t done one of those in a really long time.

Yesterday, I took a short (two hours or so) road trip to Boone, NC. Located in the Blue Ridge Mountains in the western part of the state, it’s nothing like the region I chose. While I am quite fond of where I landed here, let me just say, that part of NC is just stunningly beautiful. This picture was taken at one of the scenic overlooks along the Blue Ridge Parkway, and this really doesn’t do it justice. Standing there, looking out towards the horizon was one of the most peaceful moments I’ve had in a really long time, and I didn’t want to get back in the car. The town of Boone itself was pretty cool, a nice little college town. I enjoyed a wonderful shrimp po boy (Labor Day weekend shout out), walked around the downtown area for a bit and then found… a coffeehouse, where I enjoyed a lovely vanilla latte. Due to it’s elevation (a little over 3,000 ft above sea level) the temperature was in the mid 70’s which was about 10º cooler than here by me. Walked around a small lake at Moses Cone Park, checked out Blowing Rock, NC (that’s got to be high on the last of all-time great municipal names btw) and spent part of the drive home on the aforementioned Blue Ridge Parkway. It seems like that would be a pretty cool way to spend a weekend, it’s about 400 miles long running from Asheville to Rockfish Gap, VA and the maximum speed limit is 45 mph, something that would be particularly helpful to anyone that has, say, a tendency towards a heavy right foot *raises hand* and often needs reminding it’s about the journey and not the destination *keeps hand in the air*

Well, as often happens around here, I got side-tracked and ran completely off from where I intended this thing to go when I started. But the weekend really was amazing, so…

I know many of you have stuck around here from very early on and for that I am grateful. I also know many of you have just recently discovered this literary hot mess so, welcome! But to each and every one of you that’s ever read what I have to say here, I truly appreciate it. I’m thankful for every single like, heart, share, comment, basically any and all interactions you have with my humble, little, blog. I’ll do my best to keep us all entertained for another ten years.

Peace.

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And Here We Are

So, I was cruising through the Jewels the other day, picking up a few things, one of which being body wash. I had many varieties? Blends? Styles? Types? Kinds? Yeah, maybe kinds, from which to choose. I mean of the brand I like. And Jesus, when did shopping for body wash become like shopping for wine? Have you ever really stopped and looked at the aisle full of cleaning products for your body? It’s staggering. So, when the maker of my brand apparently decided to drop my preferred kind (kind still doesn’t sound quite right) I was left with a quandary. I mean, of course, getting clean is the primary target. But I’d kinda like to smell nice too, right? I don’t think that’s a crazy request, either for myself, or for others that may end up in close proximity to me. Now, a complicating factor, for me anyway, is the inability to smell much of anything. The result of having polyps removed, twice, about twenty years ago, so I can’t tell how pleasant or unpleasant a blend might be. So, when I looked at the label of one and saw “Dark Pomegranate and Sandalwood scent” I thought two things…

A.) Do I want to smell like a candle? and…

B.) Oooooooh pomegranate!

Don’t judge me.

In case you missed it, I kinda buried the lede up there, I’m back in Illinois. It’s baseball/softball/dance recital/graduation season and I thought it might be fun to surprise the fam by getting in early. Mission accomplished, btw! Now if Mother Nature would only cooperate. Not likely, right? Although I suppose it’s only fair that Illinois weather should return to crap within days of my arrival.

#LillyNO was again a trooper on the road trip home, she slept on the back seat (in her new car harness) the whole trip with not one peep out of her. So that’s also a win. Speaking of troopers (see what I did there?) I thought for sure I’d gotten nailed by radar in Ohio, just west of Dayton. Traffic had been pretty great until I got to the Greater Dayton Area and then it started significantly sucking. Or maybe sucking significantly. Either way. So when I got up on I-70 westbound I tried to get around a particularly aggravating cluster of knuckleheads. And as I got up to cruising speed, I noticed an Ohio Highway Patrol squad sitting on the shoulder with the trooper shooting radar. As soon as I saw him, he dropped the speed gun and got into his car, lighting it up. I muttered something (fun fact: I don’t know how many words #LillyNO understands, but she has figured out eff bombs aren’t happy words…) and moved into the right lane, anticipating I’d need to pull over. Much to my relief, he pulled in behind a Jeep Cherokee a couple cars behind me, so, Yay Me! I waited a couple miles out of courtesy and then got back on it. The miserability factor of the traffic flow however, continued past Indianapolis. Pretty much until I got off the Interstate at Remington and hit two lane roads the remainder of the drive home. That adds time to the trip, no doubt, but traveling through northwestern Indiana and through the south/southwest/west suburbs is so hit-or-miss I try and avoid it. In perfect conditions it’s probably 60-90 minutes faster than the two lane route, but conditions there are rarely perfect, at least not at the time of day I typically go through there. So I choose to preserve what little sanity I have left.

It’s almost like Mother Nature is reading over my shoulder (which, I’m told, is rude af btw) because looking out the window I can see that Winter Storm WTF (not it’s real name. I don’t think.) has descended upon northern Illinois. And apparently #LillyNO is as done with winter as I am. She’s whining to go outside yet, both times I’ve tried to let her out, she refuses to set foot out into the snow/sleet/whatever the heck it’s doing at the moment. I hope she’s not holding out for sunshine, her bladder isn’t that strong. But then, who’s is? She’s now going back and forth, from front door to back door, only to find it’s doing the same thing at each stop.

This may get interesting…

Peace

PS- Because, well, you know, we’re now 0 for 3.

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Musicalitious

For starters, I’m pretty sure that’s not a word. It is however an apt description for my upcoming weekend. I’m off to Athens, Georgia to see two shows as part of the Drive By Truckers annual HeAthens Homecoming. I’m stoked. I’ve also got an extra ticket for the shows on Friday night and Saturday night, if you can make it, let me know.

If you know me IRL you may already know I tend to over purchase because the eternal optimist in me tends to buy more than one ticket to concerts. I may have even written about it here before. I’ve gotten better about that since I moved down here, not having ready access to multiple concert-loving friends has helped. #LillyNO will be in the capable hands of my next door neighbor for the weekend, so other than a relatively short commute (I mean, in the last year I’ve driven to Memphis, Nashville, and Chattanooga for concerts, so Athens, GA is like going across town) I have an excellent weekend on my horizon.

And, before that my favorite sister is coming to visit for a couple days. I’m kidding about the “favorite” part. Mostly. I mean, she does read this stuff, so that counts for something, amirite? My other sister (and/or my brother) might read it though, so I’d better add the disclaimer that I, of course, have no favorite siblings. I won’t even mention the fact that only one of them has come to central North Carolina for a visit. Twice.

Moving right along…

I’ve truly been fortunate since I left the old DGFD as far as sampling tasty live music, and I plan on riding this wave as long as I can, you know?

I’m jumping back to the if you know me IRL part here. I was chatting with one of my neighbors yesterday and she dropped the phrase “functional procrastinator” during our conversation. I immediately told her I was stealing that line, since it applies almost perfectly to me. And I’m mentioning that because the first four paragraphs of this were written last week before I left for the concerts in Athens. I started it at the coffeehouse Tuesday, the day the Cheesehead members of my family were due to arrive. And promptly sat on it until today. Functional procrastination.

This is not a new phenomenon for me. I first became aware of my tendencies to put things off until the last minute in high school. Specifically the last part of my junior year. I started that year taking an Electronics course at the local vocational school. I soon learned Electronics were not my forte. Not by a long shot. I figuratively crashed and burned, but I’m pretty confident had I stayed in the class for the second semester that would have turned literal. At least the burn part. So I dropped the half-day class at the vocational center and instead filled my day with English classes, since they were plentiful then. One of the classes was, oddly enough, Creative Writing. Now my details may be a tad off since I went to high school a million years ago, but, as I recall, it was a half-semester class. The other half may have been Speech, but that’s not particularly germane to where I’m going here. What is relevant is that back then, progress reports were sent home at the six week mark, to let your parents know what a slacker you were. My teacher informed me on a Friday that if I didn’t turn in roughly 20 pages (hand written) worth of assignments on the following Monday, I’d be receiving one of those gems in the mail. So that weekend I cranked out the required page count. And got about four hours of sleep. I did really well though, my grades were all in the 90’s. Except for Haiku and Iambic Pentameter; two things I couldn’t wrap my 16 year old brain around. I took zeros on both.

Now, one would think that a lesson was learned here, right? Do the work as it’s required instead of working like a dope all weekend long and things will go much smoother. Not me. As the end of the grading period rapidly approached, my exasperated teacher once again advised me if I didn’t get my assignments (15 pages or so) in “on Monday” I would likely fail the class. Can I just add here that Mr. Perry was the absolute shit? I loved that guy. Anyway, I again wrote my ass off all weekend, and again scored in the 90’s on everything I turned in.

There are likely several other examples I could relate here, but I think I’ll hold off on them for now…

Peace

PS- because, well, you know… The concerts KICKED ASS! Jesus it was a good weekend! Met some cool people; a firefighter from north Alabama, a couple from outside Nashville and a guy that works at the public library in the Deeg, of all places. Small world, no? I went to an annual charity event the band helps out with on Saturday, to benefit Nuci’s Space and in a total fanboy move, took a selfie with Patterson Hood of the Truckers. That’s out of character for me, btw. But I told a friend I’d relay her greeting to Patterson and figured I’d get photographic proof of said encounter. He was very gracious, I must say, for having an elderly boob approach him as he was chatting with someone and ask for a picture.

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Tempus Fugits

Wow, the last two months really have fugited the heck away, haven’t they?

After fielding countless questions from faithful readers of this site (wait, 1… 2… 3… yup, 3. So I guess countless is no good) I figured I’d better get back to it. In all honesty, I have been writing the last couple months, just not on this thing. I’ve been trying to see if I can make something else work. I’m not quite ready to go public with it yet. And maybe never, it’s still too early to say. I will say though, that if anything ever comes from this side project, you all (still not saying y’all) will be among the first to know.

So, what to say, what to say?

Here’s something. One of the things I’ve noticed down here is the apparent reluctance to pull abandoned vehicles from along the interstate. It’s really kinda crazy. In the 30ish minutes it takes me to get to the coffeehouse from home, almost all of it on highways, it’s not at all uncommon to see as many as a half dozen vehicles sitting on the shoulder of the road. I’ve mentioned this phenomena before, I know, but, really, it kind of blows my mind. I’m not sure wherein the blame lies either. I noticed in the buildup to the snow we got last month. the electronic message boards along the highways were posted with an emergency towing message. As in, your vehicle will be gone if you leave it on the side of the road. I don’t get why they aren’t removed sooner on the regular. I mean, it doesn’t impact me one way or the other, but inquiring minds, right? I mean, back home my interstate travel was a lot less frequent, but I don’t ever remember seeing a vehicle sitting unattended for days, let alone weeks like down here.

Here’s another thing. And, quite likely, my favorite thing of the week. You know how you know when you’ve found the right coffeehouse? When you get a standing ovation upon entering the premises. Which is what happened to me today. For real. I walked in to applause. And, one of the baristas refused to take my money, comping my latte. During one of my early visits here, this particular barista asked me if I had a punch card. I told her I didn’t. She asked if I wanted one as she started to reach for it. I told her no thanks, that I’d never remember it and would, as a consequence, end up with ten different punch cards at home, each with one or two punches. She looked at me like I had threatened a puppy. I apologized and told her it was a “me” problem and not a “you” problem, but that I had embraced this weakness on my part. She shrugged and said she wouldn’t bother me with it again. And she didn’t, until yesterday. She asked if I had a punch card and I laughed and reminded her of our earlier conversation. She laughed said she thought she’d try it again. I told her, and her manager, standing nearby, that for as often as the staff slips me a discount, I’m probably coming out ahead anyway. I meant it too. These folks are straight up wonderful, all very personable and good at what they do too. Another reason I know I’ve found the right place, btw. So, when I walked in this morning and attempted to pay for my latte, my money was refused. I tossed it all in the tip jar, I figured that was the least I could do for them. But yeah, you could say I got the good end of the warm, fuzzy, feels today.

And that was before I became an objet d’art one day last week. I had no clue this had happened until the next day, she I walked in and one of the baristas very excitedly told me she had to show me something. She pulled out her phone and pulled up her IG account and showed me this. Apparently a local artist frequents places all over Greensboro, including “my” coffeehouse and she had drawn me the day before while I was writing. I choose to see the cool part of this rather than the creepy aspect of someone watching me unbeknownst to me.

Lastly, I think, after an incredible year of live music (which, as we all know, is better live) I have yet to see my first show of the new year. I do have some irons in the fire though. I just ordered tickets today to see Greensky Bluegrass next week in Raleigh and also to see Yonder Mountain String Band the first week in February in Saxapahaw. Then I’ve got HeAthens Homecoming by DBT in Athens, GA the second weekend in February. There’s potential for a Van Morrison show in April, since he and I will both be in Illinois at that time. I don’t think there’s any connection between the two btw. I mean none of his advance people reached out to me to see if those dates worked for me or not. Or if they did call, they didn’t leave a message. I have been getting a lot of random calls from all over the country with no voice message though. Maybe his people did call. I hope not, cause I blocked every one of these calls, since when I do answer one, it’s someone looking for a campaign contribution…

Ok, I think I’m good. For now anyway. I guess to sum up, if you haven’t seen me on social media, it’s because I haven’t been there, and not because you’ve missed something. I’ll try and kick these out again with a little more regularity in spite of whatever else I may have in the works. But in the meantime…

Peace

PS, because, well, you know, WP has done it to me again. Apparently while I’ve been away from here, they “improved” their site. So now, I can’t insert images the way I had form the day I started using them. Which is why the post looks kind of half-assed around where I inserted the image. I’ve already pissed away 20 minutes trying to fix it. You see how that turned out. Sigh