moonshadoe's Blog

(3:35PM) I should be ecstatic, but I'm not, and why is that? I heard the phone ring this morning. My wife from three feet away on the other side of the demaritilized zone answered, and it was my son, my youngest, announcing that he was now a father, and I was indifferent. Why? Was it because my son had been such a jerk for so long that I didn't care? But even as I consider such a thing I remind myself that that is not the fault of a seven pound nineteen inch baby boy who hasn't even been in this world for more than ten or fifteen minutes, and I feel so pathetic. As old as I am I still feel as if there is a lot of growing up I have to do.

As my wife ooed and aahhed over the phone to our son I lay there feeling so alone, but it wasn't the first tiime I had felt so. Many have been the times when I have felt isolated even thought she has only been a few feet away, and I've told myself that it's just one of those things I have to get used to. Once she'd gotten off the phone we had to go about getting ready to make our exit, and her flight was to leave at ten o'clock. At four o'clock in the morning one would thing that there was plenty of time, but it's never safe to assume anything for one never knows what is around the corner when it comes to time.

I guess we were ready within an hour after our son called with the glorious news, but I still wasn't feeling all that great, but I guess I should have been. After all, it was my second grandson. Again, I should have been ecstatic, but I just didn't have the feeling, and I wondered why then as I wonder why now. While she was taking her shower I made a pot of coffee, but she had told me not to concern myself with making something for breakfast. We would stop someplace and grab something quick for breakfast, and that was fine with me. By the time I got around to taking a shower she was almost ready to go. I made it a point not to stay in the shower too long, but I didn't have to worry about makeup and blowdrying, and sometimes I find myself very grateful that I was born to be who I am, a guy who only concerns himself with brushing his teeth and combing his hair, and what can I say when it comes to simplicity?

I'm not sure when we left, but I knew that we had to be at the airport by eight o'clock. My wife's flight was to leave at ten o'clock, and with all of the inconveniences we would encounter thanks to 9/11, the earlier we got there the better off we would be. I think we arrived at the airport with two hours to spare, and I was glad about that. It would afford us some time to chill out after the long drive we had made.

Not long after we got to the airport we found a Starbucks, and it was there that we grabbed a couple of mugs and something to put in them that would open my eyes just a little bit more. While she would have plenty of chances to catch a few winks between one place and another, I wouldn't be so lucky, but did I really need to be? As long as I stayed awake between the airport and home I would be just fine, and sometimes that can be a real challenge, but not so today. She grabbed a latte and I grabbed whatever they had in the pot at the time, and it all worked out just fine. She drank half of hers and I took a few swigs, then I kept the rest for later on down the road.

I guess it was nine o'clock when she decided to head for the security gate, someplace that was off limits to me. I was able to get one smooch from her before she had to head for the point of no return, but I was not impressed, and how long has it been since I was? I watched for as long as I could as she made her way through security, but once she had gotten beyond the point where they searched her purse I could no longer see her, so it was then that I decided I'd be better off to head for the exit, and from that point that's where I went. I was hoping then that I could remember where I'd parked, but as my luck would have it, I did, and all wasn't so bad in my world.

As my luck would have it, I was able to negotiate my way not only out of the airplane terminal, but also all the way back home. My wife had said something to me about stopping at her mom and dad's place, but due to more than just a lack of interest, I passed on that idea. I just wanted to get home where I could chill out, and I was successful in being able to do that. I did make one stop to make a purchase on a bottle of Jim Beam that I didn't need, but I had the itch, so what was I to do? Sometimes a guy has to do what a guy has to do, and when I sober up I'll come back and see what I wrote regardless of the spelling. Yes, I've had a few and then some, but contrary to someone's belief, I don't care.

Now I await a call from the little woman to tell me that all went okay, but it's been six hours since her flight left, and we shall see, and I think that just about does me until the next time around comes around, and I'm gone now.

(5:29AM) A guy can't write much in less than a minute, so I won't even try. But I'll be back.

(6:09AM) So, where was I before I so rudely interrupted myself? For starters, even though I've been on the scarce side for a day or two, okay maybe a few weeks, what was still is, and like a beer commercial I once knew, it doesn't get any better than that, which doesn't leave me with much to look forward to. I've worked the last two Sundays, and as Buckwheat would say, "OT is otay." In a few weeks my wife is going to be heading out of town to spend some time with my son and his wife in Texas, so the overtime comes in handy to make that happen. At least it helps. And what do I get out of the deal? Well, there's this thing of having a few days to myself. Then there's this thing of buying a bottle of Kilbeggan Irish whisky just to see how it goes down. As I stop to think, I realize I need to get more of a life, but for starters that'll have to do, and for the moment I'm gone. I'm doing the eleven hour day thing now, so I'm on their dime.

(9:06AM) Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but not everyone is entitled to mine, but I'll give it anyway on something so bizarre as a 112 year old man getting married to a seventeen year old girl. I'm hesitant to refer to her as a woman, but in time she'll get there, especially after she wakes up one day and realizes what she's done.

I guess it just boggles the mind, mine anyway, but the fact that it took place somewhere in Somalia might have something to do with it, being Third World and that sort of thing. Then again, there are some parts of the Unites States that are Third World too, but I won't mention Arkansas. I wonder about how it all came about. Was she a three-bagger with an IQ of ten who had no chance of ever matching up with someone close to her age? I know, I've heard it from different ones that age is only a number, and in some cases I suppose that might be true. But in this case I'm not so sure. After all, we're only talking about a mere 95 years, if he is, in fact, 112. In one article I read it was stated that he'd been married five times before, but he hadn't been married for the last seventy-five years. I guess after seventy-five years a guy could get a little bit antsy to get hitched again, that is if he can remember what it was like seventy-five years ago. 

Here's an interesting tidbit if the numbers are true. The man hasn't been married, it was purportedly said, for the last seventy-five years, which means he hasn't been married since he was thirty-seven, but by the time he had reached that age he had been married five times, and what does that tell a person? Methinks at that time that he was having some significant woman problems if five of them had better things to do than spend the rest of their lives with him. And where were all the other seventeen year olds hanging out during the seventy-five years between then and now? My inquiring mind wants to know. Obviously, they had better things to do than get paired up with someone old enough to be their grandpa. 

"Married life is about love and passion rather than age and beauty," he said. Perhaps there is something written between the lines in that statement to suggest more than meets the eye. While on the surface I can say that I agree, is one to assume that she's uglier than a mud fence and desperate for anything remotely approaching actual love even if it means rubbing corns and emptying bed pans day in and day out till death do them part, which could be any day now? I suppose the possibility is that she's blind in one eye and can't see out of the other with a hump in the middle of her back, and he happens to have a special fetish for humps. But it's all a mystery to me. How much love and passion can a guy who's 112 years old deliver? On the wedding night does he plan to have a stunt double who's half his age step in to consummate the marriage for him so he doesn't keel over from a massive coronary when she exposes her teenage bosom for the first time?  

But he says that they love each other so much, and maybe she's suffering from some kind of great-great-great grandfather fixation. I know there are some women who prefer older men, but barely living fossils? Isn't that abusing the preference just a little? Then again, there may be a different strategy playing out here. We are talking about Somalia, and in some places food is considered a luxury, so just maybe this is a matter of life and death going on here. Maybe he's got a secret stash and she's just trying to keep from starving to death. I'm thnking there has to be an ulterior motive in this somewhere, or maybe she has her own fetish for guys who have more wrinkles than a California raisin.  

In another article I read, he said, "Today God helped me realize my dream." Fantasy is more like it, and that suggests to me that the guy probably sleeps way too much. It was written that despite his already large family, the guy is still hoping for more children, which tells me that he's still dreaming. Somebody wake the guy up so he'll know when to say "I do", and somebody else give her a psychiatric exam to see how many bricks she's short of in having a full load. Then again, there's that possibility that he's the only guy around who doesn't have AIDS, because AIDS wasn't around when he was thirty-seven. And that's all I have to say about that.

(5:32AM) I've never been much for titles, and if I've said that before in this series of entries I'm probably just having a deja vu moment, but like gas, it'll pass. I'm still trying to adjust my mindset to summer's exit, and I was just starting to get to where I was liking it, well, as best as I could. Now the days are getting shorter, and because of that when the deer make their way into my backyard in the evening they are nothing more than dark silhouettes, which takes the fun out of it. I don't know if I'd call it fun as much as I'd call it wonder. I've always had a thing for nature, even when I was a kid. Some people look at a deer and see a steak. I look at a deer and see something innocent and beautiful, and last year around this time I saw one in my headlights, which is why my pickup is still parked in the driveway with a mangled front end. It's probably time for me to call the guys at the local junkyard to come and take it away.

As I left this place yesterday I decided I'd stop by the farm and home store to pick up on another bag of shelled corn for the bambies giving little thought to what the wife would say, because I already knew she'd say something. It's just her way. While there I grabbed a couple of Hershey bars, but not for me. My daughter has been going through some changes over the last couple of weeks that has had her pretty distraught, so I thought that maybe a candy bar from dad might help lighten things up a little. I also bought one for the wife, but I knew that wasn't going to lighten up anything. Let's just say it was a nice gesture on my part.

Getting home I saw that the house was dark. I knew that the wife had the day off, so even though I had worked a couple of hours over, I was thinking that she would probably be home by the time I got there if she had gone out to do some shopping, but such was not the case. I went ahead and put some corn out for the deer knowing that they would probably be showing up within the hour, and then I went in the house to chill out a little bit before the wife and daughter showed up from their excursion. Since I was alone it was a good opportunity to bring out the Jim Beam bottle from its seclusion and grab a shot or two just to mellow out with. My wife knows about the bottle of Rebel Yell I have on the kitchen counter, but she doesn't know about Jim. It's my way of giving the appearance that I'm not hitting the bottle all that hard, or at least in a way that she would frown upon, but she'd frown on it even if I never opened the bottle. I'll experiment with that one day, and get back with you, the reader, with the results of my findings, not that they really matter all that much.

It was starting to get on the dark side as I looked out in the back yard, and I noticed by that time that the usual doe and her twins had arrived to snack on what I had left out for them. The mother alerted to something and started to run down to the back acreage, which was a sign to me that the wife had come home. She had done some shopping, as I had suspected, so I went outside to help carry in the consumables. My daughter had gotten a new pair of glasses, and she was having fun getting adjusted to those after having worn contacts for the last year or so. I've never worn contact lenses, so I don't know how it feels to stick your fingers in your eyes several times a day. I guess my daughter's contacts were bothering her, and that's why she switched to regular framed glasses.

Once we'd put everything away we exchanged notes on the happenings of the day. I told the wife about my purchase, and I heard what I expected to hear. My daughter was happy about me getting her a Hershey's bar, but the wife wasn't too keen on me paying a buck and a half for each one. At the time I wasn't really thinking about the money element so much. In my mind I was hoping that it was the thought that would count, but of course, I knew better. I had thought that my wife had taken my daughter to the walk-in clinic to get checked for why she was feeling the way she had been, but she didn't. I guess she had a talk with her earlier in the day and found out that a lot of the reason she was feeling the way she was was due to self-induced stress over her upcoming wedding that she hadn't even set a date on. Along with that she was having some issues at work that we were not aware of, but after she told my wife about them they weren't really all that much to get stressed about. It was more a matter of adjustment than anything else. But I can understand such things and how they can weigh on a person. I've been in similar circumstances myself.

After that brief exchange we went about supper the cheap and dirty way. I had left over Chinese food, and I think my wife and daughter had some kind of tv dinner things, but I'm not sure. I have to work on taking note of those things in the future if I'm going to try to recount them in my verbal drivel. My wife and daughter had to watch Dancing With The Stars, and I had to endure it until I decided to hit the sack. I poured myself a shot of Rebel, and the wife had to make a subtle comment about that. I wonder what she would have said if I'd poured two or three more, but such is the way it is. Shortly after that I called it a night for lack of a better word, and now I get to do it all over again on a different day, and isn't that special? In all fairness to this bourbon thing, I'll probably dispense with it after this week is over with, not because I think I'll develop a drinking problem or anything like that, but because there's probably something better I could be doing with my time and resources that won't have the wife giving me grief and static every time I do it. Still, I wonder if I shouldn't keep a secret stash for medicinal purposes, and I think I'm gone now.

(3:45PM) It's too nice of a day to be inside, but that's where I find myself. The little woman left earlier in the day to go spend the day at her mom's house, and in a way I was a little bit surprised when she didn't ask me to go along. I guess she realizes by now that I'd rather be doing something else, even if it's nothing at all, than spend a day enduring her mom and dad. She made sure to leave me with some marching orders, and I've taken care of a few. She wanted me to dry a load of clothes, and that's in process. There was a potted plant on the front steps that she wanted me to plant somewhere, so I did. She probably won't like where I put it, but that's okay. With any luck it won't make it through the winter, so it's a nonissue. She also wanted me to give the dog a bath. I have yet to reach that point, but after I get through dropping these lines and downing a few more shots of Rebel I'll see what I can do about cleaning the nasty little beast, and he is. He can't seem to figure out when and where to drain his pain, and he has a habit of leaving tootsie rolls in the wrong places. It's starting to rub me the wrong way, but there isn't a senior citizen home for dogs.

My daughter is going through some changes, and we're not sure what that's all about. I came home yesterday from work, and shortly after I came through the door she told me that she had issues. She then proceeded to tell me that when her fiance touches her she gets red splotches and welts where he touches her. He seems to think that it's a sign, but who knows? She went to a doctor to get checked out a few days ago, and the doctor prescribed something that was more for anxiety. I guess the doctor thinks she might be stressing out with the recent engagement thing, and all that good stuff. The wife and I thought it might have something to do with the soap that he uses, or his shampoo. I suggested to him that it might not be a bad idea if he hit one of our showers while he was at our house, but he declined on my offer. I guess it did sound a little on the strange side, but at the time I didn't think it was that bad of an idea. When she first mentioned to me about the strange happenstance I was reminded of Rogue on the first X-Men movie, how when she touched someone she drained their energy. Granted, it's precarious, but it can still work. I didn't say anything about wearing body condoms.

My brother called me a little bit ago, and that was it's usual ordeal. Sometimes I wonder why he calls, but I figure it's because he just wants to talk, even if it's about nothing. He asked how everyone was, and I told him that all was still as it was the last time he called. He proceeded to tell me about his dog, or dogs. He's got about three of them living in the house with him, and that wouldn't be a big deal if they knew anything about proper sanitation, but they're dogs. Being funky is their nature, and being tolerant of their funk is my brother's nature. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway, I don't get very motivated to visit him on a day like today. I had thought about it earlier, but I'm glad it didn't get beyond a thought. Once the issue of the dogs was out of the way, we talked, or better yet, he talked, about the high school we used to go to many moons ago. There was a game last night where they won big, but it was no big deal to me since I didn't know anyone who played. It's been thirty-five years since I graduated from high school, so the disconnect is considerable. At a convenient point for me he decided that he was going to go to a local restaurant and put someone else through what he had just put me through, and I was alright with that. Remember, I've still got a dog that needs a bath, and a dirt nap wouldn't be a bad idea either.

But here I sit, listening to Steely Dan while the sun heads off into the west. Realizing that it's been a week since I dropped a line, in my defense I can only say that life has been a trial, and when was it anything but? I guess I was having one of those moments that turned into a week where I had this feeling that what I do is only a waste of my time, that it's just one of those vain things, and had it not been for the third or fourth shot of bourbon I probably wouldn't even be dropping these lines, but that's the way, uh huh, uh huh, it is. I don't know if I'll drop any more lines before this day is done, nor do I know if any will follow tomorrow, but I was here for this time around, and now I'm gone until the next time around comes around, and your guess is as good as mine will that will be.

(5:49AM) She made it home sometime after I called it a night, and I'm not sure when that was. I only know that I heard the bedroom door open, but not a word was said. And because I heard the bedroom door open I knew that I wasn't snoring, and since I wasn't snoring I was thinking she probably had an idea that I wasn't asleep. And that would have afforded her the opportunity to share her two cents on what she undoubtedly saw on the kitchen counter after she walked through the front door. But no words were said, and I guess I was relieved. She probably also saw the receipt for the stuff I bought for the woodland critters, and in the back of her mind, or the forefront, she was probably thinking that I didn't need to do that, but again, I didn't do it because I needed to. I did it because I wanted to. The way I see it is this. If I don't spend a little bit now and then, she'll do it for me, and all work and no pay makes me a dull boy. Working ten hour days is supposed to have its advantages somewhere, and I'm looking to see if I can find them.

I know she doesn't like it when I bring home a new bottle, and even though I don't really drink that much she still likes to ping me on it. If I were going overboard with it I could understand. If I were getting wasted every night, and I was obnoxious and abusive, I could understand it. If I were unable to get up in the morning to make it into work because of getting hammered the previous night, I could understand that too. But to all of the above, such is not the case. The way I see it, I'm a big boy now, not as big as some, but still a big boy, and I'm not getting any younger. So, in my way of thinking, just give a guy a break, because she isn't going to give me anything else. Thinking about the way it is sometimes, I'm reminded of how my dad used to be when I was a kid, and he probably didn't change much after I wasn't. He liked to control, and if he couldn't he liked to criticize what a person did. My other half is a little like that too, and how strange it is to leave home when you're a kid to gain some freedom only to get married and give it all up, and the world is a twisted place. I need some wake up juice now before this drivel gets out of hand, and I'm gone.

(6:06AM) It was the first time I had ever exchanged a line with him, and I was surprised to see a Facebook invite from a cousin that I had never seen or spoken with. At first I was more than glad, but things quickly went south in sorrow from there as I found out that his mother had passed away two days earlier. I was stunned. I didn't really know her all that well because not long after she married a first cousin of mine I went into the military, and they moved to Texas where they've spent the better part of the last thirty years. 

   I remember the way she looked in the early days. She was a very attractive woman back then, on the thin side, but not too thin. She had black hair that came within a few inches of her shoulders, and beautiful eyes. My cousin was a very lucky guy, and how he landed her I'll never really know. She was a serious babe who could easily turn heads without even trying. 

   The last time I saw her was two or three years ago at a funeral for my uncle, her father-in-law, and at the time I didn't even recognize her. She was nothing like I had seen her those not so many years ago. She was seriously thin, and looked like she spent way too much time in the sun, and she had lots of wrinkles to prove that. Her hair was much lighter, but it was longer than before. When I had first seen her I knew that she smoked, but I think she was smoking more when I saw her last. I don't know if she drank or not, but I suppose it was possible. Life can do that to a person, and I'm beginning to understand why, but I still say that all things should be done in moderation. That is to say, you control it without letting it control you. 

   At first when I was reading my cousin's profile page I didn't catch the news. I was too sidetracked by crossing paths with someone I had only heard about in the past for the very first time. It was only when I gazed down the page that I realized what had happened, and all I could do was think of what he must have been going through. I've been in that same place myself. I was also thinking about my cousin, and how he must have been taking the loss. I'm still wondering if there was anything that might have suggested that it was going to happen soon, but my newfound cousin didn't give any indication in anything he had written. One entry he had made had suggested that all was well on a Sunday evening, but everything went upside down when Monday morning came along, and there's no way a person can prepare for a loss like that. 

   I should have gotten my cousin's phone number last night so I could call him and let him know how sorry I am. My hope is that other family members have gone down to be with him, because as far as family goes, he's the only one in Texas, along with his two kids from this, his second, marriage. Everyone else lives in the midwest a lot of hours away. Something like that is very tough to deal with when you're all by yourself. But my heart does go out to him and his chidren. You don't get over something like that in a day, a month, or sometimes, even a lifetime. I can only wish them strength going forward, but I know about losing a loved one too, but not a spouse.

(5:02PM) I have survived another fine day at the orifice. I guess it was fine. It didn't feel much different from yesterday, only one day closer to the weekend, for whatever that's worth. I guess it was a busy day, but amongst the usual activity I had my cousin on my mind. I found myself thinking back on when I was a kid, back before gray hair and I became constant companions. Once more I found myself thinking about time, and it's something that none of us can get away from, and if we do, it stops. I was thinking of what he must be going through, and when you've had your ripped out it's pretty hard to put it back in place. In his case I don't know if there was anything that could have been done to change anything. I don't know any of the circumstances, so I don't know if she had heart trouble, cancer, or what it might have been. I can only think that one day a person is here, and the next day that person is gone. Many times I have found myself wondering if people wake up in the morning thinking that it could very well be their last day on earth, and even if we know the time is short, is anyone ever actually ready for it? I think if we're given a heads up we still find ourselves in a state of denial, hoping that we can squeeze out just one more day, and then it's all gone leaving only the memories in the wake of what was once a living, breathing person.

Having just dropped these lines I now realize that I probably shouldn't have written them out of respect for someone who frequents this place quite a bit, and she knows who she is. She's been in the same boat as my cousin, knows that same pain, that same emptiness, but she finds the strength to carry on. It's something we all have to do, because that's the way life is, and now I'm going to chill on this. I need to make an exit lest my butt and the chair I'm sitting on become siamese twins, and I'm gone now.

(7:53PM) For some the night is still young. For me, it's just the night. My daughter is either still working, or she's at her future husband's place. My wife is working at Home Depot, where you can do it, and they can charge you big bucks for whatever it is you do. That leaves me here at the homestead with the dog, and he isn't much in the way of company. Oh sure, once in a while he'll bark, but if I wanted his opinion I'd ask for it, and I don't remember asking.   

The day was there, but now it's gone. When the five o'clock hour came around I was more than ready to hit the bricks, but I had to hang around just a few more minutes to check out a few places in cyberspace. Through the course of the day I was thinking of what I wanted to do once I made my exit, and the first thing I was going to do was hit the local farm and home store to get some shelled corn for the deer that come up in my backyard late in the evening. Along with the corn I was going to get another range block for them, and a special holder to put it in, something that wouldn't hold any water from the rain. I also had this plan to check out a store in the south end of town that had a bourbon I've grown rather fond of over the past few months. I can't say my wife has grown fond of it, but I'm thinking that she'll get over it as long as I'm still working overtime. I have a feeling when the overtime stops something else might stop too, but we shall see about that.   

As I had planned, so I did. Upon leaving work I hit the local farm and home store and acquired what I had in mind, and even though the wife will probably have a few words to say to me about what I did, the deer won't mind at all. They didn't the last time I went out of my way to do them a special favor.   

Once I'd whipped out the plastic on that purchase I jumped in the hand-me-down car I drive to go in search of the bourbon of choice that will probably get me in trouble one day. It only took a little over five minutes to get there, but upon entering the store I had to take my time. For me it's like walking into a museum, so I took my sweet time gazing at the different versions of bourbons, scotches, and blended whiskies. Of course, I already knew what I was going to walk out with, but who knows, the next time around I may get a wild hair for something else. After about ten or fifteen minutes of browsing I grabbed a bottle of Rebel, and to the checkout counter I went. Once making my purchase I was ready to hit the door, and then, the road.   

But here it is a few hours later, and I'm kicking back listening to the tunes from back in a better day. I need to put some dishes away, and make a bed, and maybe I'll grab one more shot before I hit the sack, and right now I like the way I'm feeling. It never hurts to grab onto a little bit of nostalgia once in a while, even if it means that it's influenced by something in a shot glass, and now I think I'm done for the night, but the next time around won't be far away.

(5:58AM) Will it be another Monday on a Wednesday? This enquiring mind wants to know. I was surprised yesterday when no one came to invade my space, although the day before I was told that they would, not by just one person, but several. Maybe they'll forget to show up again today and my stress level will stay in check. As a result of what I thought would happen there were a couple of things I did that probably should have been done months ago. I had two pieces of test equipment that were overdue for calibration for a month or more, and I took care of that. Then there was the matter of updating the test procedures I use. I've been using procedures that haven't been updated since their inception three years ago. I only use them as a guideline moreso than anything else, but if an inspector comes by and sees me using them he might ding me for it, and somebody wouldn't be a happy camper about that. I'd probably hear about it from next upper level bean counter.

I guess I'm starting to rebound a little bit from my past funk, and I suppose time will translate that into something on the order of what once might have been. Maybe it's this thing of summer turning into fall, but right now it feels like it wants to skip fall and go right into winter. Last Friday was the first frost of the fall season, and we were barely into October. In a couple of weeks October will become a thing of the past, well, this one anyway, and November will jump out out of nowhere. The time is zipping by way too fast, and I remember as a kid how time just seemed to drag on and on. Summer vacations from school seemed to last an eternity, but now that summer vacations are a thing of the past, so is the summer. Of course I didn't do any of the stuff I would have liked to have done, and one day I will have to make a concerted effort to change that even if it means having to go it alone. I didn't go camping like I would have liked to, and I didn't take anything even close to a vacation. I think I wrote something some time ago about that, and I probably deleted it, but it was somebody else's vacation, and that was what counted.

With little else to share at the moment, methinks I'll grab my coffee mug, and make that trip that I so often do at oh-dark-thirty in the morning. Until the next time around comes around, I'm gone.

(2:04PM) Currently, I find myself in a Geritol moment, and I still wonder if they make that stuff. I've been running on empty since lunch, and I'm thinking it might have to do with that last cup of java I drank. I think I made that pot, so maybe that has something to do with the way I'm feeling. Aside from that I'm doing half bad, but it's the other half that has me wondering. There was a little bit of good news on the day, and that was hearing that the president of the division was going to retire at the end of the month. I think the last time I heard that kind of news is when George Bush finally stepped down from the presidency, and I think I felt the same way then. The guy who's been running this show for the last four years I compare to a cue ball with an attitude. He has been your typical high level bean counter with a level of arrogance suited for the position, and I wonder if his replacement will be the same way. The guy that he replaced way back when wasn't all that bad of a chief executive, but he was clueless on a number of things, and this guy has not been much different in that department. I think in the four years he was running things he came to this location twice. He might have been here a time or two more than that, but he was never here long enough to get a gist for how things operated, and I don't think he ever really cared to find out. But again, his days are numbered, and I'm not saddened to see him go. I'd even be willing to help him pack his stuff, and I think I'm gone now.

(8:54AM) On days like today it's hard to find the space to drop a line. I was told yesterday by the head cheese that I was going to be the object of an audit today. I always get a warm fuzzy when I get told that, NOT!!! It's supposed to be a dry run of sorts as the one that really counts happens next week, and I'm thinking that getting sick next week might not be a bad idea. I've spent my morning running around like a rooster with his pecker cut off, okay beak, whatever, but you get the general idea. I've had to get test procedures reprinted, test equipment sent to calibration, and I should probably straighten up a few things as well, but I don't want to overdo it. It just wouldn't be me, and now I have to get back to doing their thing since I can't do mine anymore, and I'm gone now.

(11:52AM) Surprisingly to me, my day isn't going all that bad compared to how I thought it would be, but the day is still young. It was another one of those mornings where the wife had to get up early, so I had to wait my turn. While waiting I did the usual thing, made coffee, cooked up something for her, that sort of thing. An hour went by, and she came out of the bedroom ready to start her day, and while tossing down the bacon and eggs I'd prepared for her she took notice of my hair, telling me that I needed a haircut. When she tells me that I usually ask, "Which one?" I'll admit it, my hair is a little bit over my ears, maybe an inch or so, but who am I trying to please? It was then that I realized I could use this hair thing to my advantage. Since she cuts my hair, I could rebel and say that I'm not getting my hair cut again until she and I get naked. I'm sure that would go over real well, then I reflect back on the last time we did that, almost two and a half years ago. I then wonder to myself if I want to have that same experience all over again. Decisions, decisions. Maybe I should scratch on that idea, and I think I'm gone now.

(4:48PM) I had to walk away from it for just a little bit. I could feel the frustration mounting, and when expletives start finding their way out of my cakehole I figure it's time to just step away. As I have shared in times past, I work on rf transmitters for a living. I know, it's not the greatest vocation in the world, but it pays the bills and a few other things. As I have been doing this line of work for the past twenty or so years, I'm thinking that the people I work with have been doing it for quite a while as well. That has me wondering why it's so hard for experienced people to do their jobs right the first time, most of the time. I had a transmitter earlier that had a solder short on a splitter assembly, and the transmitter I have now has the same problem. It is a major ordeal to remove the splitter from the transmitter to fix the problem, so I have to battle a rat's nest of cables just to get my head in a position to be able to see to clear the solder shorts, and the lighting isn't the best either, and if you're blind in one eye and can't see out of the other it makes it even tougher. Of course, if the outfit I worked for wasn't so tight fisted with their resources I wouldn't have to go through the pain and agony at all. The assembly would get pretested, and the defects would be discovered and corrected, and life would be hunky dory. But no, that would make sense. It would be logical, and doing things sensible and logical is against their philosophy. It's got to be done the hard way, or no way at all, and in many respects it reminds me of my days as a tv repairman, and the sucked a lot too. Having said that, I think I'm done with my rant now. Gee, I almost feel better, and I'm gone now.

(5:56AM) So, here it is, another Friday, and the days just keep on moving. It was raining again when I walked out of the house this morning, and it was deja vu all over again. I happen to like rainy days, but five Mondays in a row leaves much to be desired. Today will be another long one, but I'll make the best of it. With a serious work load to contend with the time should fly by, but ten hours is still ten hours, and she won't mind because OT is otay. I haven't decided on whether I'll work Sunday or not. It could happen, but if I keep a low profile throughout the day it might not. The director of operations had a brain spasm earlier in the week, deciding that he wanted to pull in the order I'm working on such that it would ship sometime in December, the entire order. Leave it to a bean counter to make life fun when it was already fun enough to begin with. My ten hour days may turn into eleven hour days or maybe even twelve. I've been there and done that, and while the spare change allows for a few extra perks here and there, it tends to wear on an old guy. Realizing that the verbage is short and semi-sweet, I'm still going to make an exit so I can grab some wake-up juice. Perhaps I'll be back before the day slams shut, and then again, it's anybody's guess. It's been that kind of week. And I think I'm gone now.

(8:00PM) The little woman called me a little while ago to let me know she was going to be bringing a couple of critters home with her, our grandkids. She's going to make a stop at a fast food place to grab something, and I always like it when she brings me home a mystery meat sandwich. Sure, they call it roast beef or something on that order, but after you take off the hair it could be anything. The last time she made that stop she brought home not only a mystery meat sandwich, but also some kind of mozarella sticks that had been fried in 10W-30. I guess that was supposed to make everything go down easier, and stuff like that just can't stick to your ribs. I call that intestinal lubrication, and what about the exit? I'll try not to think about it.

I have been battling again today with the verbage, but one day I'll get back to where I don't really care, then all will be as it once was. Methinks my other half will be home shortly with the munchkins, so with what looks like a specimen in a cup, but it's really bourbon, I think I'll chill with some tunes on Pandora. I guess that's as good as it's going to get for me on a Friday night, and I'm gone now until the next time around comes around, and eventually it will.

(11:56AM) How the time flies when you wish you were having fun. I've had a little here and there, but for the most part I'm still in that wishing state. The sky juice is still falling outside, and I still cringe at the thought of what the weekend is going to be like. The weather boys have been spreading this vicious rumor that it's going to get right down friggin' cold, and I'm not even ready for that. There was also a hint that we might get some snow flurries, and what is up with that? How I long for the days when I was where the days were always somewhat sunny and bright, where it never got below seventy degrees, and Panama is really nice this time of year, and I've just ran out of time as I'm back on their dime, and I'm gone now.

(6:11PM) I just made it home a little bit ago to find that it was going to be another evening with just me, myself, and I, and those other two guys don't say much. The day didn't go too bad, and it was another one of those feast or famine type days where I was feasting while a bunch of the other guys were famished. Too many times I find myself sucked into the breeze shooting sessions that pop up because there isn't enough to keep everybody busy. Yesterday was like that quite a bit, so today I tried to keep my mind on what I was supposed to be doing. For the most part I did, but there were those times where I found myself popping in here to see what was the latest and greatest. I tried to be discreet about my activities, always looking over my shoulder to see if there were any eyes looking from behind. There's nothing more frustrating for me, well almost nothing, than to be smacking away at the keys, then happening to turn around and see someone behind me waiting for me to finish before saying anything. It's like Ernest walking up to your window while you're trying to eat saying, "Whatcha eatin' Vern?" That used to happen a lot to me, but one day people starting leaving permanently and the majority of my paranoia magically went away. But the word is the head honchos are going to hire in thirty temps in the not too distant future, and that may change the complexion of things.

My wife's birthday came and went, and it's been about two weeks now since she turned forty-nine for the first time and twenty-nine for the twentieth time. In spite of her not getting me so much as a dirty look for the past two years for my own birthday, or for Father's Day for that matter, I felt I needed to be the bigger person in more ways than just physiologically. Contrary to how I've been feeling for what seems like forever, I decided I was going to get her something for her birthday, and not something cheap and chincy. I had gotten the idea to buy her a digital picture frame since she's into taking pictures of everyone but me. She takes pictures when she goes to her mom and dad's, or she takes pictures when she's with the grandkids, and when my own kids come around with their significant others. Occasionally, I might find my way into a picture, but it's usually by accident. Considering the fact that she liked taking pictures so much, but not really having any place to put them where she can see them readily, I decided yesterday to take a trip to Wally World to see what I could see, and in the end I picked out a middle of the road version. It was an eight inch diagonal model that had a 1000 picture capacity and a music function. I don't know what music it plays, but I doubt if it's any of the good stuff. I prefer AC/DC myself.

The digital picture frame was a little bit on the pricey side for me, eighty-five bucks, a small drop in a lot of people's buckets, a bigger drop in mine. I was having thoughts that the wife might end up taking it back to Wally World citing that I paid too much, that we couldn't afford it, or any other excuse that might sound good. As I thought about that, I concluded that even if she took it back for whatever reason, I could say that I at least made an effort. I actually bought her something, and if she decided she didn't want it, I could wash my hands of feeling bad for not getting her anything at all. I felt bad enough about not getting her a card, but I just can't bring myself to buy a card that doesn't really tell the story, and just finding a card that says 'Happy Birthday' and nothing more is sort of lame.

When I got home with my newly acquired acquisition I was at a loss as to how I was going to present after she got home. I didn't have any wrapping paper, and I didn't want to just walk up to her with it and tell her I'd bought it for her birthday. I decided I'd do something on the more unconventional side. I went in the bathroom, got a large towel, came back in the kitchen, and with the box on the table, I draped the towel over it. I know, that sounds lame too, but it still allowed for the element of surprise, and it was environmentally friendly, no wrapping paper and ribbons to get tossed in a local landfill. Yeah, that's the excuse I'll use. After I did that I went out to the car to get the bottle of Ezra Brooks I had bought the day before. I had an idea of what she might say once she saw that, but after buying her a gift that cost almost one hundred bucks, a twelve dollar bottle of bourbon surely wouldn't raise too much of a stink. As it turned out, I think I was right, for after she got home to see what I'd gotten her, she only told me in a nice way that I needed to be careful of how much I was spending. I thought I was being careful. Surprisingly, she didn't give me a lot of grief about the bourbon. The only thing she had to say came when she saw that I had bought a couple of small tumblers for what I was planning to mix up as a drink. Seeing what I had bought, something very cheap actually, she said to me, "Oh, give me a break." My reply was, "Okay, where do you want it?" I think she was just peeved because we already had enough glasses in her eyes, but two more surely couldn't hurt that much.

From that point on the night pretty much went where it usually does, and tonight won't be any different, but since there's no one here but yours truly, I think I'll grab one of those tumblers and see what I can conjure, and that pretty much does me for this time around, and I'm gone. 

(5:54AM) This entry probably won't be very long, and where have I said that before? I woke up in a hu-hum frame of mind, probably a carryover from yesterday's version of ho-hum. I tend to get myself down in an emotional rut for no real good reason, then I have to try and climb back out of it. The last week or so has been a lot like that, and maybe it's just a an adjusting thing. Yesterday was the wife's day off from work, and I wasn't aware of that until after I made it home. I was all in the mode to pay a visit to the Rebel Yell, but upon seeing the car in the driveway I knew I'd have to put a hold on that until a more convenient time. She was all bubbly, sort of, having spent her day making cinnamon rolls, and I wish I could get my jollies as easily as that. Maybe I should learn how to make cinnamon rolls, too. On second thought, maybe not. And I think that does me for this time around. I told you it probably wouldn't be much, and for once I guess I was right until the next time comes around, and I'm gone.

(7:27PM) I guess this must be the next time, because I find myself back here again. For me it's late on a Tuesday night, but for many the night is still young. I say late because I'll probably hitting the rack in about another hour. I can't say much about the day except that it was there. Work was work, and I called it a day at three. Then while I sat in the car in the parking lot munching on some corn nuts the thought hit me to go check out a liquor store, and knowing that the wife was working late, I figured, why not? Knowing that the Rebel was running low, and I was curious about what I might find, I shifted the hand me down wheels into gear and headed south.

I had been told that this particular store had a lot more to choose from versus my regular place of preference, but upon arriving I didn't see a lot of difference. The one difference that jumped out at me was the discovery that the prices hadn't jumped by two bucks and more as at the other place. I didn't know what that was all about, but I didn't care much as I began to check out what I could get for less than fifteen bucks. I finally settled on a bottle of Ezra Brooks, for the low price of only eleven dollars and change. But it was ninety proof. I know, I had told someone earlier in the day that I was going to break out the plastic on a bottle of Fighting Cock, but they didn't have that on the shelf. Besides, the wife might give me a dirty look if a brought home a bottle of that stuff. The name alone would get me a dirty look, but nothing more.

I had to check out the rest of what they had to offer, but knowing that I needed to make my exit, I went ahead and made my purchase. While whipping out the plastic I wondered what the guy behind the counter must think when somebody buys a bottle of the cheap stuff, and thoughts of my younger days briefly came and went, thoughts of Mad Dog 20-20 and Boone's Farm came to mind, and I remembered how some of the guys I was stationed with in Panama tried to sober up a very tanked Willie Sepulveda after they had gotten him trashed on some Mad Dog. I remember seeing them take him in the shower and turning on the cold water, but he had a flight to make back to wherever he was going to call home, and he wasn't going to make it in that condition. I didn't know whether that was Puerto Rico or New York, but it wasn't anywhere in Panama.

I made a stop by Wally World for a couple of bottles of Pepsi. I'm thinking of putting on the brakes with the shots, and going with something a little more politically correct where the wife is concerned. Once she finds out about the Ezra Brooks, the addtion of the Pepsi might not rub her the wrong way quite as bad, and I'm still wondering what it takes to rub her the right way. Methinks I shall never fully know. And now I am sitting here listening to tunes on Pandora, and getting mellow with it. I know that in writing what I have thusfar there is no real indication of the kind of day it was, but dropping lines hasn't been the easiest thing as of late, and it's amazing I suppose, how a few tunes and a few shots can loosen up the mind, and now I think I'm gone for the day, and probably for the night.

(8:14PM) Okay, so maybe I was wrong. It's happened before. Earlier today I was thinking about the last time the little woman approached me about my newfound attraction to drinking shots. Several times now she's asked me, "What does that do for you?" I've said different things such as, "I like it", or "It relaxes me", and it does. But today another thought crossed my mind, and that was, what does feeling lonely, unloved, and undesired do for me? Perhaps that's the next question I need to ask in response when I get confronted by a repeat of a repeat the next time around, and I know that it will come again soon enough. I've thought to myself that I could talk about it in those terms, but I already know what will get sent back in my direction, and it will be as if I hadn't said anything at all. It will all be about her also having her own set of feelings, and the way I've felt for the past six and a half years won't even come into the picture.

I know that in any relationship there are two sides of the equation. No one can continue as if all is hunky dory without noticing at some point that it really isn't, and two and a half years of sexlessness should be enough to tell someone that things aren't exactly on the side of normal. I've thought that when she confronts me again I may have to say that it's better than getting sneaky behind her back, for I've come to realize that if you drink enough of this stuff you don't really care after awhile, and perhaps it becomes a matter of the lesser of two evils, and I've just begun to realize that this has gotten on the order of interminable. Oh well, such is life, but there's an ending to everything at some point, and for this entry I think this is defintely it, and I'm gone now for sure.

(5:49AM) Monday here I come, ready or not. The weekend was where I thought it would be, so I don't know if it is appropriate for me to say that I was disappointed. There were no fireworks of any kind, and by now that should be a given. I might have tried to start a fire a couple of times, but my efforts were quickly doused, and sometimes I wonder why I bother. Sometimes I even wonder why I dwell any further on the subject.

I was thinking to myself yesterday, since there was no one else around to think to, that many couples probably look forward to those years when the kids finally decide to take flight and leave the next. It becomes just "you and me" time and any disconnects that came along due to school functions, sibling rivalry, or doctor appointments are hopefully remedied by reconnects. Now is the time for taking those weekend drives to wine country, looking for that quiet getaway where one can be reimmersed in another, and the intimate moments that were too far between before can be realized once more at your leisure. I don't think my other half has had those thoughts, and I don't think she cares to, and I still say that they need to have a course in high school along the lines of Life 101 where they bring in screaming kids and assign groups of students to care for them for several weeks at a stretch. They could have married couples come in that fight and bicker nonstop and tell the students that they will each get to spend two weeks with them so they can get a hint of what married life can be like. The possibilities for such a class would be unfathomable, but maybe, just maybe, something positive would come out it. On second thought, probably not. When it comes to life, the grass always looks greener where you're not, and then when you get to where you thought the grass was greener you discover something else.

I've still been doing a lot of thinking about this young woman Felicia Tang Lee who was beaten to death by her boyfriend, a wolf in sheep's clothing, back on September 11th. On a Facebook profile that seems to have disappeared, it was written in memoriam to her something about helping to stop domestic violence, but what does one do? The answer to that I wish I knew. I raised my own sons with the understanding not to hit on girls, and they got married anyway. Wrong hit. But really it's no laughing matter. Personally, I'd be all for beating the hell out of the culprit in similar fashion to what he does to the woman, then telling him to never ever touch a woman again. Clearly there is something wrong with a judicial system that waits for a violent domestic incident to occur before anything is done. How many times have I read, or heard someone talk, about the authorities saying there is nothing they can do until something happens, and usually when something happens it's too late to do anything. I'm guessing that's the way it was with the Felicia Lee incident.

As I've thought about this, I've wondered if there was a past history of domestic violence between her and her boyfriend, but they had only been living together for four months. Four months is hardly enough time to reach such a point, but then again, maybe I'm just naive when it comes to human behavior. I was always with the understanding that if two people like each other, maybe even love each other, they're not going to get into a knockdown dragout where one is going to do bodily harm to the other. But in the case of Felicia Lee I don't think it got to that point as she didn't stand much of a chance against her boyfriend anyway. I've seen pictures of the guy, and I can't see any woman getting the upper hand with someone like that. But it should have never happened, and as far as he is concerned someone should hand him a rope so he can do like Ryan Jenkins did, basically take justice into his own hands, but I'm going into a rant mode now, and I need to mellow out.

As far as what to do about domestic violence, it's going to take a change of heart with people, and until that change comes about it's going to take a firmer approach on the part of the judicial system in dealing with it. People need to be made aware, by whatever means, that there are serious consequences for domestic abuse. Personally, it wouldn't bother me to see them bring caning to this country as a form of punishment. A few days in jail probably doesn't do a whole lot for someone who abuses his wife or his girlfriend, but give him something that leaves a lasting impression, and he might think twice before he decides to raise his hand to a woman again. When it gets to the place where people are smacking up on one another, it's time for someone to make arrangements to live elsewhere, because that just isn't love anymore. And now I think I've gotten what I wanted to get out of my system out, and when I see something else written about another woman brutalized, or murdered, by her boyfriend or ex-husband, I'll probably have something else to say, but for now I think this does me.

Now with less than ten minutes left before I have to shift my head into a different gear, I'm going to go about my usual morning ritual. Got's to have the wake-up juice, even if I don't wake up, and I'm gone now. 

(6:01AM) I did it again. I was three quarters through an entry, and I hit a wrong key, sending everything I had tossed into oblivion. Woe is me, and then some. How do I recapture a thought once gone? I guess I'm going to have to come up with some new ones.

Unbeknownst to the masses, yesterday was October Fool's Day. I know what you're thinking, there's no such thing as October Fool's Day. Just give it time, and it'll catch on. In my way of thinking, April shouldn't get all the fun. Somewhere in the world everyday is a fool's day, and the fools in the world are an evidence of that.

My foolery was revealed yesterday when I arrived home to find that my wife had gotten overly motivated to clean out the closet. After I walked into the bedroom I saw this trashbag filled with jeans that I could no longer squeeze myself into, and I had tried, so I knew. By that I knew that she must have found out about my secret stash, but I wasn't going to be the first one to say anything. I was going to just play it cool and see what transpired. Ten minutes into our coexistence she told me that she had found my bottle. She then asked me why I had hidden it. My first response was that I didn't want to catch any carpola, which is my euphemistic counterpart to crap, or something else on an excremental level. Knowing my wife as I think I do, I just didn't want to deal with the confrontation, but now the confrontation had arrived, and how would it go? Surprisingly, she didn't get loud with me, and I was relieved to have been able to avoid another night at the opera.

She did tell me that I didn't need to drink it, and I guess I could have agreed with her. I could have gone with something around eighty proof instead of one hundred, but it wasn't about need. It was interesting to me that she knew what I didn't need, but she was oblivious to what I did need, and when I bring up that need I usually get blown off, and not in a good way. I tried to remind her a few times last night, and sometimes I ask myself why I still bother. The treatment is always the same. I can think of plenty of times, well, not plenty but enough, when she was in more of a mood where I was expected to comply whether I was in the mood or not, but like a Honda it didn't take much to get me started. She's far from being a Honda. On a scale of one to ten I'd say she's more like a glacier, and the last person to try to have sex with one of those probably came back with a, well, use your imagination. I did, but decided I'd better not write it.

Thus, after the close encounter I have dreaded in the back of my mind was over with no harm done, the rest of my evening was spent taking up residence on the loveless love seat while she spent her evening in the kitchen making an apple pie, and I don't care what anybody says, a good apple pie is still not better than bad sex, or is it?

With my time waning down to the wire I guess I'll grab my coffee mug and make my way to the wake-up juice. Another ten hour day cometh, and I'm gone.

(8:59AM) I've ran out of time, and just when I had the itch to drop a line about a very troubling subject. I'll just have to wait until noon rolls around so I can toss a few thoughts about a recent happening that has really gotten under my skin. Got's to go now. Doody calls, and I'm gone.

(11:53AM) With less than ten minutes, here goes nothin'. Does the name Brian Lee Rondone ring a bell in anyone's ears? It didn't in mine until yesterday when I happened upon an article where he was arraigned for the torture and murder of his girlfriend, a former porn actress. The recent happening at Yale really ticked me off too, when a young woman was found dead on the day she was supposed to get married, killed by another employee where she worked, but I don't want to get too far off the subject of Brian Rondone.

Here's a guy who is a former paster holding a Master's Degree in Divinity from a seminary in Texas, and I'm thinking to myself, what part of "Thou shalt not kill" escaped this guy's comprehension? Here he goes to school for six years to be a shepherd of the flock only to murder one of the sheep for whatever reason. I guess I'm really ticked with what I see happening to women in relationships where they are abused, or worse, killed. With thoughts of George Sodini still fresh in my mind, I'm wondering how these guys can be so indifferent. I am at a loss as to what could possibly be going through their minds when they do what they do, but each time I hear of such things I become more and more of a proponent for capital punishment. Oh, I failed to mention that I had a cousin who was murdered a number of years ago by some guy who wanted to go out with her daughter, but my cousin said no. Her children came home from school only to find her naked in her bedroom bound with duct tape, having been beaten to death with a ball bat.

I have no remorse for the Brian Rondones of the world, or the George Sodinis, or anyone else who senselessly brutalizes women. I have to go back to work now as I am now on the company's dime, but I'll come back to vent more on the subject when I get the chance, and I'm gone now.