Being an Englishman abroad, one becomes disconnected from the everyday of life 'back home'. What has been nice about Blogland has been the ability to take a peek into the lives of those who, had my life taken a different road, would have been me. I have been able to see and hear about the little things that normally have slipped through the cracks of my memories. In some ways, it's allowed me to identify more with a place I haven't called home in over a decade.
Yesterday's horrific events made me very angry, but also very proud of England. Her unshakable resolve and stoic attitude to adversity, and the compassion of Her people.
I lived about 40 miles outside of New York City on 9/11. Far enough away that I went there only when I had to, but close enough that we could see the smoke down the Long Island Sound. The sense of fear, though, was palpable for days after the attacks. It took a while to feel like you weren't walking around in a fog.
In this case, I'm very far away and can see and hear only what is on TV. My family lives far from London, in Suffolk. I feel it somehow more deeply - while it is equally as tragic and incomparably horrifc - because it was an attack on what I hold deep down in my heart to be 'home'.
God Bless all who perished yesterday, their families and loved ones. God Bless all the people who have the courage to stand up against the dark tide of Evil. God Bless Great Britain.
Friday, July 08, 2005
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Well done, London.
Jolly well done to Lord Coe, Becks and Blair for bringing home the bacon. Makes me proud that the Olympics will be coming to Old London Town. There's a big tent that didn't get much use during the millenium that might be of some use.
Of course, I'd like to think that Chirac being a smug bugger about French food and French contributions to Europe had something to do with France getting passed over. There's nothing better than getting one over on our cousins across the channel.
I'm going to suggest - put it out there, if you will - that someone consider bidding to host the Tour De France. I mean, the French have had it for a bloody long time and now it's someone else's turn. How about Poland ? Sweden ? Bulgaria ? Plenty of nations in Europe with lots of old buildings, good wine and bicycles. In the spirit of goodwill, maybe it's time for the Tour D'Iraq ?
Of course, I'd like to think that Chirac being a smug bugger about French food and French contributions to Europe had something to do with France getting passed over. There's nothing better than getting one over on our cousins across the channel.
I'm going to suggest - put it out there, if you will - that someone consider bidding to host the Tour De France. I mean, the French have had it for a bloody long time and now it's someone else's turn. How about Poland ? Sweden ? Bulgaria ? Plenty of nations in Europe with lots of old buildings, good wine and bicycles. In the spirit of goodwill, maybe it's time for the Tour D'Iraq ?
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Independence
For those non-US readers, yesterday was Independence Day here in the US. As I'm sure you all know, it's when they celebrate kicking us (the British) out all those years ago. Kind of like how we celebrate the burning of Catholics on Guy Fawkes' Day. Lots of barbecues, fireworks and red white and blue.
I must confess though, that it's a little bit better than Bonfire Night because it happens in JULY and not in NOVEMBER. Shorts and t-shirts are the suggested party wear, as opposed to several jumpers and a hat.
Another common tradition is the 4th of July race. Our town has a 7.2 miler, and I'm pleased to say that despite a chronic lack of training, I managed to complete it in a semi-decent time. Yeah me ! Starting the day out that way assuages some of the guilt felt later when downing several burgers and quantities of beer. My daughter (4) completed her first kid's fun run today. She got a medal, a flag AND a ribbon. Way to go !
I sometimes wonder what the world would be like now if the UK was still the pre-eminent super power and not the US. Sometimes it boggles my mind that our Empire ever grew so big. How on earth did we do it ? For those interested in the last remnants of this straggly collection of colonies, check out Simon Winchester's book 'Outposts'. It details some of the last Crown Colonies that can still be called that in this day and age. Who knew ? Rule Britannia !
I must confess though, that it's a little bit better than Bonfire Night because it happens in JULY and not in NOVEMBER. Shorts and t-shirts are the suggested party wear, as opposed to several jumpers and a hat.
Another common tradition is the 4th of July race. Our town has a 7.2 miler, and I'm pleased to say that despite a chronic lack of training, I managed to complete it in a semi-decent time. Yeah me ! Starting the day out that way assuages some of the guilt felt later when downing several burgers and quantities of beer. My daughter (4) completed her first kid's fun run today. She got a medal, a flag AND a ribbon. Way to go !
I sometimes wonder what the world would be like now if the UK was still the pre-eminent super power and not the US. Sometimes it boggles my mind that our Empire ever grew so big. How on earth did we do it ? For those interested in the last remnants of this straggly collection of colonies, check out Simon Winchester's book 'Outposts'. It details some of the last Crown Colonies that can still be called that in this day and age. Who knew ? Rule Britannia !
Monday, June 27, 2005
Living dangerously
Don't ever think too hard about who has been there before you. It does you no good.
I walked out of the shower, towelling off, and sat down to check my email in my birthday suit. As I sat in the hotel chair, the thought struck me - how many OTHER people have done the same thing ? For that matter, what manner of OTHER things have those people done in this room ?
Of course, in a world populated by playboy bunnies and swimsuit models, this thought could have some appeal. In the context of my hotel room, my mind flashed back to some of the less desirable patrons that I'd seen at check-in. I could envision the room fluorescing under Grissom's magic blue light,
I'm not generally someone who gives a lot of thought to things like this. I don't paper my toilet seat to avoid contracting some nasty disease. I go way longer than the 5 second rule permits, and *gasp* I don't wash my hand every time I touch a door knob. For some reason, the slight stickness of the fabric on the chair gave me pause for concern this time.
I stood up.
Quickly.
I walked out of the shower, towelling off, and sat down to check my email in my birthday suit. As I sat in the hotel chair, the thought struck me - how many OTHER people have done the same thing ? For that matter, what manner of OTHER things have those people done in this room ?
Of course, in a world populated by playboy bunnies and swimsuit models, this thought could have some appeal. In the context of my hotel room, my mind flashed back to some of the less desirable patrons that I'd seen at check-in. I could envision the room fluorescing under Grissom's magic blue light,
I'm not generally someone who gives a lot of thought to things like this. I don't paper my toilet seat to avoid contracting some nasty disease. I go way longer than the 5 second rule permits, and *gasp* I don't wash my hand every time I touch a door knob. For some reason, the slight stickness of the fabric on the chair gave me pause for concern this time.
I stood up.
Quickly.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Ah, kids.
I love my kids. I do.
Being a Dad can be so conflicting sometimes. On the one hand, you want to savour every last little nanosecond of your childs fascinating development from birth to adulthood. On the other hand, you just want them to GROW UP.
I get a trifle put out when people tell me that 'Oh, just you wait - it doesn't get any easier when they get older'. You've got to be f@$#ing kidding me. Don't get me wrong - I understand that preteens and teenagers can be a bit testy, but compared to a 2 and 4 year old ?
I'm clinging to the belief that there will come a time (soon, please Lord) that my kids can communicate without screaming, stay out of each others stuff, sleep later than we do, perform all of their own toilet duties, eat without throwing the food or screaming, listen to reasoned argument and so many more.
Don't you ever wish that kids came with a 'pause' button ?
Being a Dad can be so conflicting sometimes. On the one hand, you want to savour every last little nanosecond of your childs fascinating development from birth to adulthood. On the other hand, you just want them to GROW UP.
I get a trifle put out when people tell me that 'Oh, just you wait - it doesn't get any easier when they get older'. You've got to be f@$#ing kidding me. Don't get me wrong - I understand that preteens and teenagers can be a bit testy, but compared to a 2 and 4 year old ?
I'm clinging to the belief that there will come a time (soon, please Lord) that my kids can communicate without screaming, stay out of each others stuff, sleep later than we do, perform all of their own toilet duties, eat without throwing the food or screaming, listen to reasoned argument and so many more.
Don't you ever wish that kids came with a 'pause' button ?
Friday, June 17, 2005
Cork boat
Audio books are great. I occasionally have to drive for 3-4 hours to go down to my 'head office', and while it's a fairly nice drive it can get a bit tedious.
A good cup of coffee, a chocolatey snack and a good audio book on the iPod can make it feel like I'm putting my feet up and relaxing (don't worry, full concentration on the road at all times). What did I ever do before my beloved little iPod ? Greatest gadget ever invented in my opinion (except maybe for the TiVo).
Anyway, I just finished 'Cork Boat' by John Pollack. In brief, it's a true story of a guy who fulfills his childhood dream of constructing and sailing a boat entirely from wine corks. It takes him until he is 36, mind you.
It often boggles my mind when I read of stories like this - that someone has such an intensity of purpose in life that they'll go through all kinds of adversity to accomplish something that, to the rest of us workaday slobs, seems completely crazy.
Thusfar in my life, I can't think of anything that has possessed me with such passion and required an enormous personal struggle to achieve (with the minor exception of my ongoing home renovation, but that doesn't really count).
It begs the question - what will I look back on in the closing days of my life as my 'greatest achievement' ? Maybe that should be everyone's every day goal - to DO something that you'll be proud of as you shuffle off this mortal coil. I'm not suggesting a need to cure cancer, conquer a new planet or discover a new chemical element but something that you can look on with pride and say 'yep, I did that'.
Suggestions, anybody ?
A good cup of coffee, a chocolatey snack and a good audio book on the iPod can make it feel like I'm putting my feet up and relaxing (don't worry, full concentration on the road at all times). What did I ever do before my beloved little iPod ? Greatest gadget ever invented in my opinion (except maybe for the TiVo).
Anyway, I just finished 'Cork Boat' by John Pollack. In brief, it's a true story of a guy who fulfills his childhood dream of constructing and sailing a boat entirely from wine corks. It takes him until he is 36, mind you.
It often boggles my mind when I read of stories like this - that someone has such an intensity of purpose in life that they'll go through all kinds of adversity to accomplish something that, to the rest of us workaday slobs, seems completely crazy.
Thusfar in my life, I can't think of anything that has possessed me with such passion and required an enormous personal struggle to achieve (with the minor exception of my ongoing home renovation, but that doesn't really count).
It begs the question - what will I look back on in the closing days of my life as my 'greatest achievement' ? Maybe that should be everyone's every day goal - to DO something that you'll be proud of as you shuffle off this mortal coil. I'm not suggesting a need to cure cancer, conquer a new planet or discover a new chemical element but something that you can look on with pride and say 'yep, I did that'.
Suggestions, anybody ?
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Chim-chiminy
Yeah !
The Chimney Man is here. I've waited nigh on a year for his services. Announced by the clang of scaffold poles he arrived without warning at 7:30 this morning.
My chimney is a problem. It's probably the original, and it's in rough shape. In fact, if you stand in the garden *just so* and look up at the right angle, you can see daylight through it. Bits have routinely been falling off, and for the last two winters orange icicles have draped the side of my roof from water full of clay from the dissolving bricks.
So it is with great joy that I welcome Chimney Man.
Unlike England where everyone can lay a good course of bricks (except me), it's a skill here that isn't widely possessed. Probably has something to do with all of our houses being made out of wood. He's the one guy locally who knows one end of a hod from the other.
Still, now he's here. Now if it would just stop raining long enough for him to work.
The Chimney Man is here. I've waited nigh on a year for his services. Announced by the clang of scaffold poles he arrived without warning at 7:30 this morning.
My chimney is a problem. It's probably the original, and it's in rough shape. In fact, if you stand in the garden *just so* and look up at the right angle, you can see daylight through it. Bits have routinely been falling off, and for the last two winters orange icicles have draped the side of my roof from water full of clay from the dissolving bricks.
So it is with great joy that I welcome Chimney Man.
Unlike England where everyone can lay a good course of bricks (except me), it's a skill here that isn't widely possessed. Probably has something to do with all of our houses being made out of wood. He's the one guy locally who knows one end of a hod from the other.
Still, now he's here. Now if it would just stop raining long enough for him to work.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Help me, I'm drowning
Whoever doesn't think that our climate is changing, please stand up.
Actually, better that the millions of people who read this don't do that all at once or it might throw the earth of its axis and cause some REAL trouble.
Our weather is just not right. We moved here to the small country place because the big suburban place was getting too crowded and too oppressive. Summer there was often a marathon slog of mind numbingly hot days where you sweat standing still and the night was as hot as the day (how DO people in Atlanta survive).
The trade off was that we got a hard winter here and spent six months of the year digging foot upon foot of snow off of the sidewalk and wearing half of the clothes in your closet in one go just to stay warm.
Now it's JUST NOT FAIR that we also have to deal with the same heat and sticky weather that we used to have before we moved. Maybe it's the 'little black cloud' syndrome - it's following us.
Yesterday I completed my NWCG Wildland Firefighter course. Briefly, this is the basic qualification that allows me to go fight those big western wildfires (or any wildland fire for that matter). For anyone who isn't familiar with wildfires, it's where lots of trees, brush and grass catch fire. They can often get very big, and require thousands of people to put out. Not with water mind you. With DIGGING.
So, we're out there in the woods yesterday. Temperature - 85 degrees, Relative Humidity - 95-100%. Imagine now that you're wearing long pants (fireproof), t-shirt, long sleeve shirt (fireproof), helmet (plastic) and backpack (heavy) and are carrying some kind of amped up garden tool with which to whack at the soil.
Now go at it for a couple of hours digging what amounts to a long wide scratch in the dirt - up hill and down dale (or steep dropoff). I can't remember the last time I worked so hard. I can't even find an adjective to describe how hard this is. Maybe just think about the last time you dug over the garden with a fork and add in all the other elements mentioned above and multiply by 10.
You'd think that breathing air at 100% humidity would be like breathing underwater, and it ain't far off.
So much fun !
Of course, out West it's never much more than 25% humidity, but still. On Western crews you dig line for 12-16 hours a day and go day after day. I thought I was in good shape (I run). I now have a whole new appreciation for Wildland Firefighting, and realize that I have a long way to go.
So, if you live out West - the next time you see a firefighter in snazzy green pants and a yellow shirt, give them a hug. On second thoughts, they'll probably stink and be covered in soot, dirt and shit so maybe just a warm thankyou instead.
Actually, better that the millions of people who read this don't do that all at once or it might throw the earth of its axis and cause some REAL trouble.
Our weather is just not right. We moved here to the small country place because the big suburban place was getting too crowded and too oppressive. Summer there was often a marathon slog of mind numbingly hot days where you sweat standing still and the night was as hot as the day (how DO people in Atlanta survive).
The trade off was that we got a hard winter here and spent six months of the year digging foot upon foot of snow off of the sidewalk and wearing half of the clothes in your closet in one go just to stay warm.
Now it's JUST NOT FAIR that we also have to deal with the same heat and sticky weather that we used to have before we moved. Maybe it's the 'little black cloud' syndrome - it's following us.
Yesterday I completed my NWCG Wildland Firefighter course. Briefly, this is the basic qualification that allows me to go fight those big western wildfires (or any wildland fire for that matter). For anyone who isn't familiar with wildfires, it's where lots of trees, brush and grass catch fire. They can often get very big, and require thousands of people to put out. Not with water mind you. With DIGGING.
So, we're out there in the woods yesterday. Temperature - 85 degrees, Relative Humidity - 95-100%. Imagine now that you're wearing long pants (fireproof), t-shirt, long sleeve shirt (fireproof), helmet (plastic) and backpack (heavy) and are carrying some kind of amped up garden tool with which to whack at the soil.
Now go at it for a couple of hours digging what amounts to a long wide scratch in the dirt - up hill and down dale (or steep dropoff). I can't remember the last time I worked so hard. I can't even find an adjective to describe how hard this is. Maybe just think about the last time you dug over the garden with a fork and add in all the other elements mentioned above and multiply by 10.
You'd think that breathing air at 100% humidity would be like breathing underwater, and it ain't far off.
So much fun !
Of course, out West it's never much more than 25% humidity, but still. On Western crews you dig line for 12-16 hours a day and go day after day. I thought I was in good shape (I run). I now have a whole new appreciation for Wildland Firefighting, and realize that I have a long way to go.
So, if you live out West - the next time you see a firefighter in snazzy green pants and a yellow shirt, give them a hug. On second thoughts, they'll probably stink and be covered in soot, dirt and shit so maybe just a warm thankyou instead.
Friday, June 10, 2005
I'm gonna be rich
I read the other day about this wonderful new product called Spray On Mud, for those too lazy to go and find a puddle to drive through.
Vermont has an entire season named after the goopy stuff*, so we're in no short supply. I'm thinking of marketing it as 'slap on mud' and selling it mail order in buckets to those not fortunate enough to live somewhere with access to the real stuff.
I'd imagine if you live in, say, New York, then plastering your Range Rover with some authentic Green Mountain mud could add some real caché.
Maybe I should think about opening a franchise so that people can drive through and get their ride all messy. A car 'splosh' maybe ? With girls in bikinis it could be just like mud wrestling.
Remember where you heard it first.
*Mud Season: the messy bit after the snow melts but before the spring comes. Vermont's so called 'fifth season'.
Vermont has an entire season named after the goopy stuff*, so we're in no short supply. I'm thinking of marketing it as 'slap on mud' and selling it mail order in buckets to those not fortunate enough to live somewhere with access to the real stuff.
I'd imagine if you live in, say, New York, then plastering your Range Rover with some authentic Green Mountain mud could add some real caché.
Maybe I should think about opening a franchise so that people can drive through and get their ride all messy. A car 'splosh' maybe ? With girls in bikinis it could be just like mud wrestling.
Remember where you heard it first.
*Mud Season: the messy bit after the snow melts but before the spring comes. Vermont's so called 'fifth season'.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
I love our babysitter
We have a new sitter. For anyone who isn't a parent, it's hard to understand how important it is to have a good babysitter. I can't speak for everyone, but for my wife and I, getting out sans kids is not just nice, it's critical. I think investing in your relationship, maintaining it and each other is just as important as anything else you can do for your child.
Our new sitter kicks butt. The kids love her. They listen to her. She even cleans up the mess of toys at the end of the day and gets them to bed on time.
Life is good.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On a sad and odd note, I went to a town meeting last night. A man stood up to make an impassioned comment regarding a road construction project here in town, sat back down in his seat and promptly had a heart attack. A few of us rushed to his aid, giving CPR, calling for the ambulance etc. I don't know if he made it. Let's hope. You think that you'll never need CPR, never see someone have a heart attack. You just might. I cannot imagine for a second how I'd feel if it was someone I knew and loved.
Life can be hard.
Our new sitter kicks butt. The kids love her. They listen to her. She even cleans up the mess of toys at the end of the day and gets them to bed on time.
Life is good.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On a sad and odd note, I went to a town meeting last night. A man stood up to make an impassioned comment regarding a road construction project here in town, sat back down in his seat and promptly had a heart attack. A few of us rushed to his aid, giving CPR, calling for the ambulance etc. I don't know if he made it. Let's hope. You think that you'll never need CPR, never see someone have a heart attack. You just might. I cannot imagine for a second how I'd feel if it was someone I knew and loved.
Life can be hard.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Taking the plunge
After 13 years living as an Englishman abroad, I've finally decided to take the plunge and apply for citizenship.
Honestly, it's not based on a particular 'Pride in the USA' thing, but more on a pragmatic desire to be a fully involved citizen. Not being able to vote is a bit of a pisser, moreso for local matters than for national elections (though, for the record I would NOT have voted for Bush). I pay taxes, and I'd like to be able to participate in my community by voting for people to hold positions that have a real bearing on my life here in Smalltown. It boggles my mind that a law abiding, tax paying, legal permanent resident can't vote. It would seem to go against the whole 'Taxation without representation' thing that got this country started in the first place.
The real motivating factor behind all of this sudden desire for American Citizenship is the ability to apply for a Federal (government) Firefighting job. I'll be working for Uncle Sam.
I'm taking a course right now that will give me the qualification necessary to join Wildland Fire crews anywhere in the country, but only if I am ALSO a US Citizen. So after all this time not being able to find a good reason, here it is. Of course, it'll be a while before the missus gives me the required permission to abandon my family for weeks at a time to go play with big fire in the woods, but I can start off small and dream big.
If I had to give up my British passport to do this, It would be a VERY hard decision. Not that I think I'll ever move home (after 13 years, I still call England 'home'), but somehow not having that passport would make me feel less English - and that is very important to me.
I'm hoping that the process will not be too hard - better than getting a Green Card, that is. I'll let you know my progress. In the meantime, I'm off to study up on my English Language and 'Civics' for the test.
Honestly, it's not based on a particular 'Pride in the USA' thing, but more on a pragmatic desire to be a fully involved citizen. Not being able to vote is a bit of a pisser, moreso for local matters than for national elections (though, for the record I would NOT have voted for Bush). I pay taxes, and I'd like to be able to participate in my community by voting for people to hold positions that have a real bearing on my life here in Smalltown. It boggles my mind that a law abiding, tax paying, legal permanent resident can't vote. It would seem to go against the whole 'Taxation without representation' thing that got this country started in the first place.
The real motivating factor behind all of this sudden desire for American Citizenship is the ability to apply for a Federal (government) Firefighting job. I'll be working for Uncle Sam.
I'm taking a course right now that will give me the qualification necessary to join Wildland Fire crews anywhere in the country, but only if I am ALSO a US Citizen. So after all this time not being able to find a good reason, here it is. Of course, it'll be a while before the missus gives me the required permission to abandon my family for weeks at a time to go play with big fire in the woods, but I can start off small and dream big.
If I had to give up my British passport to do this, It would be a VERY hard decision. Not that I think I'll ever move home (after 13 years, I still call England 'home'), but somehow not having that passport would make me feel less English - and that is very important to me.
I'm hoping that the process will not be too hard - better than getting a Green Card, that is. I'll let you know my progress. In the meantime, I'm off to study up on my English Language and 'Civics' for the test.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Little man
My little boy turns 2 today. His accomplishments thus far in his short little life include:
-Being able to say the word 'Fuck' with impunity wherever he is (this includes church, shopping) since he can't pronounce the 'TR' sound. Even funnier when he shouts 'Daddy ! Big Fuck !'
-Removing all of his pajamas in bed and lying naked, playing with his bits (that's my boy !)
-Learning to say 'Hi Pretty Lady' to unknown women while out with Daddy (though, to be honest, they're not all that pretty sometimes)
-Learning to whack his sister back when she bonks him on the head with a toy.
-Removing a light bulb from a table lamp (look Daddy, light !), and putting one of the lights (when turned ON) from the Christmas Tree in his mouth.
-Having been twice to the Emergency Room.
-Playing the harmonica (or at least making noise with it and filling the thing full of spit - 'Daddy turn ?', er, no thanks).
Cupcakes and balloons for the lad today. No beer just yet - he'll have to be at least 3 before THAT happens (what do you think I am, an irresponsible parent ?).
-Being able to say the word 'Fuck' with impunity wherever he is (this includes church, shopping) since he can't pronounce the 'TR' sound. Even funnier when he shouts 'Daddy ! Big Fuck !'
-Removing all of his pajamas in bed and lying naked, playing with his bits (that's my boy !)
-Learning to say 'Hi Pretty Lady' to unknown women while out with Daddy (though, to be honest, they're not all that pretty sometimes)
-Learning to whack his sister back when she bonks him on the head with a toy.
-Removing a light bulb from a table lamp (look Daddy, light !), and putting one of the lights (when turned ON) from the Christmas Tree in his mouth.
-Having been twice to the Emergency Room.
-Playing the harmonica (or at least making noise with it and filling the thing full of spit - 'Daddy turn ?', er, no thanks).
Cupcakes and balloons for the lad today. No beer just yet - he'll have to be at least 3 before THAT happens (what do you think I am, an irresponsible parent ?).
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Wet thighs
Inspiration strikes you in the most uncommon ways sometimes. Sitting poised at my keyboard, ready to launch into a witty and compelling missive, I spill my Latte into my lap.
Now, it being summer (or what we call summer around here) I am wearing shorts. My legs are now covered in warm milky coffee. My ass is sticking to the chair, and I smell like Colombia's finest espresso roast.
What bothers me most about this episode is not having to clean up the floor, or my chair or even my shorts (the missus, God bless her, takes care of things in the laundry department). It's the remorseful feeling I have for losing my coffee.
My morning Latte is a ritual each day. I take a trip to the Smalltown Coffee Shop, gossip with the owner and patrons, a short trip home and then settle in for a day of hard, hard work. Losing my Latte throws me completely off balance. I don't know if I can carry on.
Now, it being summer (or what we call summer around here) I am wearing shorts. My legs are now covered in warm milky coffee. My ass is sticking to the chair, and I smell like Colombia's finest espresso roast.
What bothers me most about this episode is not having to clean up the floor, or my chair or even my shorts (the missus, God bless her, takes care of things in the laundry department). It's the remorseful feeling I have for losing my coffee.
My morning Latte is a ritual each day. I take a trip to the Smalltown Coffee Shop, gossip with the owner and patrons, a short trip home and then settle in for a day of hard, hard work. Losing my Latte throws me completely off balance. I don't know if I can carry on.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
The other man's is always greener.
What is it with Grass? Such a seemingly prolific organism that can be so simple, and yet such a pain in the bum.
Last year I was fortunate enough to start with something of a 'clean slate' in the garden department. Renovations to our house had left the back garden looking like the Somme, and after some work with heavy equipment and many truckloads of new topsoil we had an empty, brown space.
Eschewing seeding in favor of an 'insta-lawn', I press ganged my Mother (here on Holiday) in to helping me lay several hundred square feet of perfect green (sod is a funny word, isn’t it ?). For the first time in my life, I owned a lawn that was flat, uniformly green and had no dead spots, brown spots, lumpy spots or squirrel holes.
This year, now that 'Summer' is finally here (it comes late in the Frozen North) I'm back to mowing and caring for my green. Only now, it had bald spots.
Why is it that everywhere you DON'T want grass to grow - it will? Prolifically. Yet here I give it all my nurturing, time and attention and it fails me. Maybe I should just ignore it, though I'd worry about losing the kids in the tall grass and all those snakes and things.
Somehow, shoveling snow was easier.
Last year I was fortunate enough to start with something of a 'clean slate' in the garden department. Renovations to our house had left the back garden looking like the Somme, and after some work with heavy equipment and many truckloads of new topsoil we had an empty, brown space.
Eschewing seeding in favor of an 'insta-lawn', I press ganged my Mother (here on Holiday) in to helping me lay several hundred square feet of perfect green (sod is a funny word, isn’t it ?). For the first time in my life, I owned a lawn that was flat, uniformly green and had no dead spots, brown spots, lumpy spots or squirrel holes.
This year, now that 'Summer' is finally here (it comes late in the Frozen North) I'm back to mowing and caring for my green. Only now, it had bald spots.
Why is it that everywhere you DON'T want grass to grow - it will? Prolifically. Yet here I give it all my nurturing, time and attention and it fails me. Maybe I should just ignore it, though I'd worry about losing the kids in the tall grass and all those snakes and things.
Somehow, shoveling snow was easier.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Perverse Pleasure
I know I shouldn't have - everyone says you shouldn't do it. I couldn't resist. I even got perverse pleasure from thinking about doing it.
It's been bugging me for days now, nagging at me to do something, but I have resisted.
The thing is big, hard and busting out. Today it's finally ready and I can't hold back any more. I take a while to get a good grip, just so, with my fingers and massage it until FINALLY it just explodes. BOY - does that feel SO good !
In your mid thirties, you just shouldn't have to do this kind of thing anymore. It’s not right. Somehow, I thought I'd left it all behind in my teenage years - the embarrassment, the funny looks.
But, it doesn’t last forever.
As I write, it is beginning to go down. Rather red, but that too will subside. Then it’ll just be a memory.
Damn pimple.
It's been bugging me for days now, nagging at me to do something, but I have resisted.
The thing is big, hard and busting out. Today it's finally ready and I can't hold back any more. I take a while to get a good grip, just so, with my fingers and massage it until FINALLY it just explodes. BOY - does that feel SO good !
In your mid thirties, you just shouldn't have to do this kind of thing anymore. It’s not right. Somehow, I thought I'd left it all behind in my teenage years - the embarrassment, the funny looks.
But, it doesn’t last forever.
As I write, it is beginning to go down. Rather red, but that too will subside. Then it’ll just be a memory.
Damn pimple.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
What is the world coming to ?
Many people may have missed the revelation earlier in the week that some states were giving free Viagra to sex offenders. This defies all logic. You lock someone away (at taxpayers expense) for some awful sex crime and then provide them with drugs to chemically assist them in getting an erection. I'd have thought that if they couldn't get it up, you'd kind of acheived your desired punishment. Then again, I'm not a psychologist or anything.
All of this comes a little closer to home this week, when the rumor mill begins to churn that a registered sex offender is moving to our little town (pop. 3000). Not just any old sex offender, but a CHILD sex offender. There has been a palpable change around here. We now lock our doors more during the day, schools and daycare facilities are on alert and every coffee shop conversation revolves around this guy. Somehow it doesn't seem fair - he's able to create victims without even stepping out of his door. Living in a climate of fear seems like an assault on our freedom.
I don't know what the solution is, but much like Nuclear waste, nobody wants the problem on THEIR doorstep.
All of this comes a little closer to home this week, when the rumor mill begins to churn that a registered sex offender is moving to our little town (pop. 3000). Not just any old sex offender, but a CHILD sex offender. There has been a palpable change around here. We now lock our doors more during the day, schools and daycare facilities are on alert and every coffee shop conversation revolves around this guy. Somehow it doesn't seem fair - he's able to create victims without even stepping out of his door. Living in a climate of fear seems like an assault on our freedom.
I don't know what the solution is, but much like Nuclear waste, nobody wants the problem on THEIR doorstep.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Hurry, Scurry
It's hard to explain to those who haven't experienced the same sensation, but it takes some getting used to, I'll tell you. One minute you're sleepily enjoying the first sips of coffee and tucking into a bowl of granola, than BAM.
So it is that my beeper goes off at breakfast.
Here's something most people don't know, because the thought never crosses their mind - When you burn your toast and your fancy fire alarm goes off, summoning help from the fire department, THEY OFTEN HAVE TO WAKE US UP.
I'm not complaining about this, mind you, (well, Ok a tiny bit) just trying to educate the general public that your local FD probably is NOT a bunch of guys sitting around a room on bad used furniture watching reruns of 'Rescue 911'. A good portion of this country is staffed by Call or Volunteer departments, not by (badly paid) career personnel. We have to jump out of bed, drop what we're doing, find the car keys, navigate traffic (boy those red lights sure help), get to the station, get on our gear, get in the truck and drive to your house.
So, imagine you're in some giant spy plane with x-ray specs high up over my town when someone sets off their alarm, or (more rarely) actually lights their house on fire. It'd be kind of funny to see lots of little people suddenly jumping about, running around and dashing through town to get to the station - all for YOU.
I can still feel the adrenaline in my veins 30 minutes later. Or maybe its the caffeine.
So, next time you pick up the phone or burn the toast give a thought to the poor schlepps that are scurrying to your aid.
So it is that my beeper goes off at breakfast.
Here's something most people don't know, because the thought never crosses their mind - When you burn your toast and your fancy fire alarm goes off, summoning help from the fire department, THEY OFTEN HAVE TO WAKE US UP.
I'm not complaining about this, mind you, (well, Ok a tiny bit) just trying to educate the general public that your local FD probably is NOT a bunch of guys sitting around a room on bad used furniture watching reruns of 'Rescue 911'. A good portion of this country is staffed by Call or Volunteer departments, not by (badly paid) career personnel. We have to jump out of bed, drop what we're doing, find the car keys, navigate traffic (boy those red lights sure help), get to the station, get on our gear, get in the truck and drive to your house.
So, imagine you're in some giant spy plane with x-ray specs high up over my town when someone sets off their alarm, or (more rarely) actually lights their house on fire. It'd be kind of funny to see lots of little people suddenly jumping about, running around and dashing through town to get to the station - all for YOU.
I can still feel the adrenaline in my veins 30 minutes later. Or maybe its the caffeine.
So, next time you pick up the phone or burn the toast give a thought to the poor schlepps that are scurrying to your aid.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Discipline
Working from home takes focus and discipline.
So it is that I find myself watching cable TV at 3 O'Clock in the afternoon. I will take a work break shortly, promise.
So it is that I find myself watching cable TV at 3 O'Clock in the afternoon. I will take a work break shortly, promise.
Hot Stuff, baby !
This was a controlled drill to practice advancing on a burning propane installation, using water as a shield. Kind of hot, but also very cool.
Finally, the end of the beginning
For the last 9 months I have been sitting through the Firefighter 1 course. This is a 160 hour qualification designed to give Firefighters an entry level qualification that is accepted nationally (mostly). It's a real bugger. It may not seem like it, but that's a lot of time, especially when you've been out of the studying mode for a while (Depressingly it has now been 18 years since I last attended a place of higher learning). We have homework assignments, tests, reading and all of that jazz. Once in a while we even get to play with hoses, ladders and stuff. Not much fire, though.
I'm sure that most people would assume that Firefighters get trained to put out fire by, well, putting out fire. Not so ! In today's environmentally friendly world, it's increasingly hard to get State and Local Government to allow you to burn anything (that is, of course, unless your a homeowner in which case you can burn pretty any old hazardous crap you want). In 9 months, we have one day of 'live fire' training at the State Academy. Luckily, we also have a few real fires back in our own department to cut our teeth on.
I'm just glad it's over and I can get my Thursdays back. Thank God for TiVo, or else I'd have missed an entire season of CSI.
I'm sure that most people would assume that Firefighters get trained to put out fire by, well, putting out fire. Not so ! In today's environmentally friendly world, it's increasingly hard to get State and Local Government to allow you to burn anything (that is, of course, unless your a homeowner in which case you can burn pretty any old hazardous crap you want). In 9 months, we have one day of 'live fire' training at the State Academy. Luckily, we also have a few real fires back in our own department to cut our teeth on.
I'm just glad it's over and I can get my Thursdays back. Thank God for TiVo, or else I'd have missed an entire season of CSI.
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