Mothers and Daughters

The One Two Punch I'm Confronted With

Really late posting today as I’ve been caught up in my wife’s maelstrom of baby shower invitation creation and a little bit (understatement) of work. My wife and daughter finally agreed on the details of the invitation while my daughter snarkily provided an updated version which she said was “aligned” correctly – still feeling the need to coddle her less than blessed father on the computer front.

She’s taking a page right out of her mother’s playbook as I was deemed too careless to do the actual cutting and gluing of the invitations. This required her to come to my office and commandeer the office paper cutter and I was carefully instructed to stay out of her way. My excellent boss wandered by a couple times to commiserate and share his equally demeaning stories about spousal lack of confidence in creative endeavors.

At least I’ve got an early First Friday on tab and it will be a sendoff celebration for one of the political bosses – so win, win. To top that off we’ve got a thunder run scheduled for Keene tomorrow – things are definitely looking up as absolutely no creativity will be required to storm the awaiting pubs.

My Wife at Work Today in my Office

Reconnaissance in Force

I thought last night would be a leisurely period of rest following a sweltering day at work. I (once again) underestimated my wife’s capacity for finding tasks for me to accomplish. I was barely settled my typical post-work decent into sloth when I was informed of the need for a reconnaissance to locate possible baby shower locations. The old “taking the bit in the mouth” saying would be a grotesque understatement to describe my wife when she is in the party planning mode; especially given this is for her daughter (AND first grandchild!).

I bowed to the inevitably of the demands and soon found myself winging back into Worcester. Since my wife often fails to eat meals when she is in her “ultra-planning” mode I suggested we actually eat dinner at one of the reconnaissance objectives. She grudgingly agreed to this minor delay which turned out to be a lot of fun since it was at one of my favorite eating establishments in Worcester – the Flying Rhino. It’s definitely for a younger crowd and we were the oldest patrons, by far, but a lot of fun.

I told my wife we had to swing by my office but this was soon forgotten as the reconnaissance zone expanding to outlying towns. I spent some time sitting in restaurant parking lots while the whirling dervish I’m married to inspected rooms. I was required to contact the daughter of our neighboring Mafioso to obtain directions to a restaurant they passed by earlier in the week but that was the sum total of my contributions. She’s heading out today with the Mafioso to finalize the selection, apparently my input is unnecessary for the final decision (for which I am more than pleased – agonizing is not my strong suit).

After our semi-safe return from the reconnaissance mission I finally did get to catch up with the final episodes of Hannibal I had saved up which were every bit as spellbinding as promised by the Cali-Daughter. It’s almost fitting that the series is ending now than the cannibal chef is incarcerated. It’s less fun not seeing him thwart pursuit. I am going to miss the texture of the show though.

Lefty in Space

I received a lot more reaction to my story yesterday about my continued adventures with Buddy the Semi-Wonder Pooch. He apparently has quite a following down in Panama where his gastro-intestinal distress issues of yesterday were a hot topic with my wife having to explain to several relatives the story behind the story. Buddy does that to people, they come and visit us where he inevitably captures a piece of their hearts. It did not pass without notice that none of the calling Panamanians inquired about my emotional distress at heaving to deal with yesterday morning’s adventure. I think they figured if I can handle my favorite Panamanian, a gaseous (amongst other emissions) dog is well within my capabilities.

Date night called for a boxing drama with Southpaw. This tried to be more than it is but it’s interesting to see how irrelevant the sport of boxing has become because one of the hardest aspects was the believability factor. That being said, the movie has Gyllenhaal at his best which can be scary in its own right because he’s so damned good. He transforms himself into a monosyllabic boxing champ on the cusp of punch drunkenness who loses his wife, along with everything else, very early in the picture.

Gyllenhaal has undergone amazing transformations in his last two flicks, including this one, and truly convinces as the abused pug. I thought they spent a little too much time bringing him down and not enough on his trail to redemption, because you have to know that’s where it was headed. I might feel this way because the scenes with Gyllenhaal and Forrest Whitaker, as his new coach, are the meat of the redemption story and these two are so good together that it left me wanting more of this. 50 cent should really stick to rapping as he was totally outclassed in every scene he appeared but he was fighting well above his weight in this cast. A great date movie as my wife was in serious tears by the end (wait, does that make it a good date movie?).

I finished off my latest foray into science fiction yesterday with a book by an author I’d never read before, Chris Kennedy, with the book Janissaries. It was recommended by Chris Nuttall in the afterword of his last book and I thought the premise of earth facing invasion with some friendly aliens arming and equipping us for the fight was promising. It got off to a bad start with Kennedy proclaiming Janissaries were a Persian institution while every right minded student of history knows it was the Ottoman Turks taking Christian boys and turning them into fanatic soldiers; not the Persians. One I got past that faux pas I was entertained by the book as long as he stayed at the tactical level which he had a good feel for. His attempts at the strategic and national level characters were ludicrous and bordering on the unintentionally comical.

It was a fast read and the first in a trilogy about the promised invasion. This read like the first part of a story therefore and I’m sure the publisher turned a very good one-story book into a trilogy because that’s more profitable. I’ll eventually come back and read the next two but not right away because Kennedy didn’t capture my imagination as much as hoped for.

Olfactory Chaos

I wrote yesterday about my wife’s unfortunate decision to feed Buddy the Winder Pooch a fat laden helping of barbecue from Sunday’s party. She did this despite my caution that this was a very bad idea. I (and my sister/brother in law) have some extensive experience at just what rich food does to the Wonder Pooch’s gastrointestinal processes. While my wife talks a very tough line about Buddy she’s a softie at heart which Buddy is more than capable of exploiting. I paid the price for this kindness.

I came downstairs yesterday morning, already saddled with having to face yet another Monday in that endless progression. I was following my routine until I opened the basement door and ran face first into a smell that can only be described as diabolical. It got worse as I continued my descent into this olfactory miasma. Due to possible thunderstorms Buddy had spent the night in his kennel which was bad news for him but did make the cleanup easier, if not any more pleasant.

I found the one or two unsoiled spots on the kennel and dragged it outside with Buddy still inside. Once outside I opened the cage and a very chagrined dog stepped out. I immediately felt bad for him because it was obvious he had spent the entire night (well at least after his “event”) on his feet, refusing to lie down in the filth. I hosed him off and then turned my attention to the cage which I renamed “Gag City”. I truly think as white hair continues to encroach on Buddy that he is transforming into a skunk, his various smells are certainly keeping pace with the advancing hair.

Buddy's Next Incarnation?

After several rinses and a thorough going over with Clorox wipes both dog and cage were fit to return into the house. By opening the basement door I had allowed the smell to waft throughout the house which allowed my, the author of the disaster, to share in the experience. Justice was achieved when my wife inquired why the house smelled bad enough to, in the immortal words of the late great George Carlin, “knock a buzzard off a shitwagon”.

Buddy the Semi-Winder Pooch

Candles were soon lit as various sprays and deodorizers were employed to combat the pall. The plumber showed up to install the new dishwasher and didn’t remark at all. Of course plumbers have to have a pretty strong constitution when it comes to odors. Buddy seemed none the worse for wear and complained loudly about his exclusion while still drying out.

Buddy and I achieved our final revenge on my wife last night as we settled down to watch a movie. Buddy spent a lot of the day catching up on his missed sleep and took up station right below my wife with the business end pointed directly at her. The next stage in his gastrointestinal reaction to the rich food she’d given him was almost continual flatulence. She didn’t appreciate, at all, my pointing this out to her from behind the t-shirt covering my nose. Buddy ended up at my end of the couch.

Mondays, really do suck, yesterday’s a tad more than is reasonable.

Neighborly Afternoon and Hula Explosion

Great Neighbors

I can definitely get used to this new neighborhood we’ve moved into. I always bemoan the amount of television I watch and we may have found the cure – moving into a neighborhood surrounded by friends. We were back on the next door Mafioso’s deck for most of yesterday for a conclave of the Worcester Chapter of the Panamanian Mafia and a tasty barbecue. I didn’t watch any television until well into the evening, which is a huge departure given the presence of a Red Sox game, Ray Donovan, True Detective, and the Strain but I didn’t miss them, even a little bit.

My Wife Sampling Some of the Fare

That is what the opportunity to hang out with friends will do for you. Since it was a school night I wasn’t sampling adult beverages which are usually an integral part of these type gatherings. I thought I had the best barbecue ever on Saturday with Wingman in Hartford but yesterday’s fare definitely gave that opinion a run for its money. Barbecued ribs on top of chicken lightly sprinkled with steak has to be the menu of the gods and then of course there was a couple helpings of my wife’s signature chocolate pie. I believe true consciousness was achieved. My wife made the mistake, despite my objections, of giving the Wonder Pooch a healthy snack of meat which I paid for this morning – more on that tomorrow.

Food Just Kept Coming

The area was threatened with thunderstorms but they obligingly moved around our hilltop perch to allow the afternoon to pass in conversation and truly bad jokes. What do you call a blind deer? No-eye-deah (you need to throw in the New England accent to make it work – if you’re a true masochist). The afternoon also allowed my wife to escape her latest all-consuming obsession – the upcoming baby shower for Cali-Daughter.

From the Other Side

That obsession returned in full and contributed to my lack of couch potato time last night. She had me designing invitations to her exacting specifications. She is not a gentle task master when it comes for anything she’s doing for one of our children – it has to be perfect (which admittedly is not my strong suit). I dazzled her with my command of MS Word and the different fonts available (classify her as “easily dazzled”).

Meanwhile up north my two sons converged to celebrate Favorite Son’s 30^th birthday. Wingman’s band landed in Portland and we received a toothy update on the unfolding events. My wife always says they never show teeth when smiling for photos – they made sure to correct this for her. Apparently the prohibition of school night adult beverages didn’t survive the Maine border. I was so happy they got to spend the day together; birthdays should be special.

Dentally Appropriate Bro's in Portland Yesterday

Speaking of special the ABFA contributed to the celebration by posting photos from a less than well publicized event from their honeymoon – my son’s hula hula dancing experiment. They were attending a luau when he was selected to join the professionals up on stage in front of hundreds. I have to bow to the ABFA’s wisdom that the world needs to know (and see) more about this episode so I’ve included the photos as well.

I Believe He Gets His Hip Swaying Capabilities From his Panamanian Side

Winging It

I don’t miss the regular drives into Connecticut which is to traffic what the seventh level of hell must look like. I do, however, significantly miss the reasons which led to those regular drives – picking up my daughter and Wingman when they traveled home from NYC. The trips are non-existent now with their move to California and I miss the necessity of travel. This was mollified to a great extent yesterday when my wife and I travelled down to Hartford to link up with Wingman whose band was passing through the insurance capitol of the world.

Outside the Theater Yesterday with Wingman

He’s been all over the country over the last few weeks, including presenting an award at some sort of rock awards show in Cleveland earlier in the week. The band has a full size bus converted to a mobile home with berths which they use to travel between tour dates overnight. After a Friday night show in New York they continued north and were parked outside the theater in Hartford. We arrived a little after noon with no answer to our repeated texts. I approached the bus and asked if this was the correct band’s bus. The driver said yes but they had left Wingman in NYC Friday night. I was reaching for my phone to confirm this major problem when he relented and said he was screwing with me.

Wingman Kidnapped by These Two

He escorted us into the bus where we sat down with the group’s lead singer and drummer who were the only two up and moving at that point. It’s a true commentary on the passage of time since we first met this fascinating group of musicians that the conversations were now about recently arrived children and homesteads instead of the rock and roll life. Wingman blearily stumbled out of the berthing area after a bit and was properly chagrined.

Great Chow!

It was so good seeing him again, it felt like it had been entirely too long since we’d last had him around. We kidnapped him and set out in search of a place to have lunch. Hartford like many large New England cities pretty much shuts down during non-business days but we did luck into place called Bear’s Smokehouse. Wingman was excited about the location while I harbored trepidations about my wife’s reactions to smoke barbecue. Wingman in his customary role lived up to his appelation – some of the best dead animal flesh I’ve had in a long time. If you’re ever in Hartford check out the brisket – from another world. 

Wingman was so impressed with the fare that he secured a serious amount of takeout for the rest of the band.  It’s tough when you live in a bus and don’t have personal transport, especially given the neighborhood the theater was located in. When we got back to the theater and their well received meals we made a video call to the Cali-Daughter so she could participate in the all too short reunion. Wingman then showed us around the theater and my wife almost suffered a heart attack when the drummer started his sound check at full volume when her back was turned. She honestly thought the building was falling down on us. I think our rock and roll credentials took a serious hit.

Wife and Wingman Shortly Before the Building Fell on her

We reluctantly took our leave so Wingman could do his own sound check and continue his interrupted sleep pattern prior to the late night show and subsequent trip for a show in Portland, Maine today. The trip back to the People’s Republic of Massachusetts was a little forlorn. My wife and I discussed how much Wingman has become an integral part of the family. It was every bit as tough saying goodbye to him as it is to for either our son or daughter, so cool to have another son after all these years.

Happy Birthday Big Guy!!!!!!

Speaking of sons, today is his official birthday, even though we celebrated it a couple weeks ago. That’s been his MO since his earliest days – multiple birthday celebrations. I’m so proud of the man he’s become and while we can’t spend today with him, he will be heading up to Portland to spend the day with Wingman, so my two sons will spend the day together. The only thing missing is being with them but as stated above, my rock and roll qualifications are not what they used to be.

Wife Sampling Some of Ronnie's Fare

We drove by the old house in Charlton on our way home so we could drop off a ceiling fan control that had been inadvertently packed up in our move. We ran into one of our neighbors with my wife studiously avoiding looking at the old homestead. I was not similarly affected. My wife’s old gardens were overgrown but there was ample evidence of young kids at play including several trees lashed together with some sort of multi-colored plastic bindings. It made me feel good that the old house was fulfilling its well-deserved destiny with a big family. In tribute to the ABFA we stopped by Ronnie’s on our way out to score some ice cream (thank you ABFA).

Wife and Fellow Mafioso Last Evening

We planned a routine night at home but the next door Mafioso had other plans. We were drawn into a barbecue and ensuing consumption of adult beverages. We set up shop on their back deck as my neighbor launched a gallant fight against the descending mosquitos. It was so good to have friends to hang around with after having had to say goodbye to one of our kids earlier in the day. Since Panamanians were involved dancing eventually arose, the mosquitos never stood a chance.

Bring on the Dancing Girls!

We ended the night watching the Opening Ceremonies for the Special Olympics in Los Angeles. My wife’s cousin, she of the legendary laugh, is a coach for the Panamanian contingent and we were hoping to catch a glimpse of her during the athlete’s march into the stadium. We may or may not have but it was cool to see all the pomp and circumstance with the obvious cascades of love extended to the extraordinary athletes who’ve overcome so much in their lives.

The Panamanian Marching In - Laughing Cousin Somewhere in There

Weekend Arrival Festivities

Just when I thought First Friday celebrations had established a routine, granted, a very enjoyable routine, but routine just the same, they are taken to another level. I can lay the blame for this enjoyable development at the feet of my favorite Panamanian. Since we live in Worcester now, I’ve taken to swinging by the house to pick her up before heading to Brew City. She was in high fettle when I picked her up because she had serious issues with the new dishwasher the landlord had delivered to the house. The old one broke down last week and he immediately took steps to replace it, which I thought was admirable. Apparently this new one doesn’t meet her high expectations, even after I pointed out it was the exact same model as the one it replaced while costing us nothing. Fortunately Brew City offered its services in the way of mollifying her sense of outrage.

The "Inadequate" Washer 

The normal crew assembled for First Friday as well as some additions. We were saying goodbye to the funniest employee we have who is retiring. He was up to his usual form and told a joke that I cannot repeat even with my heartfelt lack of political correctness. I’ll only say it involved an elderly Jewish lady building a statue to honor Hitler and had us all rolling on the floor. While we were ushering in the weekend in thoroughly appropriate manner the skies opened up and an impressive deluge descended outside.

The First Friday Crew - My Wife on the Right

Shrewsbury Street became a veritable river and we canvassed the bar to see if the owner of the Mercedes parked right outside with its windows open was there. He wasn’t and the consensus was that we would have felt worse if it had been a Corolla. Twenty minutes into the storm a ponytailed metrosexual came charging up the sidewalk to his car. He almost caused two separate accidents pulling into traffic. He was probably having trouble steering and treading water at the same time.

Shrewsbury Street Under Water

The crowd departed but the wife and I decided to stay and sample Brew City pizza for the first time. I was singularly impressed, my wife less so, but I am more easily swayed on the subject of pizza if it is surrounded by beer taps and multiple screens showing sports programming. I’m easy that way. Full of pizza, beer, 1 frozen mudslide, and attitude we made the five minute ride home (YES!!) and found that just a mile from Brew City the streets were completely dry as no rain had fallen. Unfortunately the rain did bless our hilltop and a very shaken Wonder Pooch had addressed it with his usual voracious drooling.

A long telephone call with the Cali-Daughter ensued where plans for her baby shower were discussed/negotiated in full. For some unknown reason I was left completely out of the negotiations (pleased at this development would be an understatement). The ensuing plan was to watch a movie but my wife insisted we needed to discuss drapes (don’t ask – I’m still not sure I understand why).

Updated Photo of Cali-Daughter and the First Blog Reader

The next door Mafioso’s arrival from work rescued me from trying to keep my head in the drape discussion game. We were shortly on station around their kitchen island with a bottle of wine for the ladies and my signature Coors Lites. This was, as pointed out on numerous occasions, just about the perfect way to end a day, sitting around a table with good friends. This makes two Fridays in a row I’ve accomplished that precious task – a streak worth keeping active. By the end of the night the two Panamanian ladies had polished off the entire bottle of wine which is something my wife is not accustomed to. The thirty second commute back to our house was fraught with peril and a serious amount of entertainment. A good day; now to go out in search of my Wingman!

Excitement Supremacies

Yesterday’s rather mundane day at work was transmuted early on by the news the Cali-Daughter would be returning to the right coast one last time before the first blog reader appears. She wasn’t sure up until yesterday that she would be able to fit in the trip while still in any condition to fly. She dutifully reported yesterday that she would be flying in on August 21^st!!!!

While this was good news for me because I get to hug her a lot it was transformative at home. My wife immediately and decisively launched into preparation for a baby shower on the following day - August 22. She had despaired of the opportunity to host a baby shower for her very first grandchild due to the geographic challenges of the Golden State location. I got very little out of her for the rest of the evening as she was deeply immersed in party planning. She did emerge from her semi-trancelike state to complain about not having our much larger Charlton house or to illicit my opinion on something which was summarily dismissed (my opinion that is).

Cali-daughter Will Return!!!!

By the end of the evening she had a plan in mind which will evolve continuously up to and including the actual date. It was good to see that old fire in her eyes. She always complains about the work involved in hosting a party but she’s so good at it and she admitted last night she loves doing it. Of course this always has serious repercussions in my own life’s path of finding the least amount of chores possible at home. Buddy and I will be seeking serious cover over the next month.

We do get to spend some time with the blog reader’s dad tomorrow as his band blows into nearby Hartford. We’re going to skip the concert itself but kidnap Wingman upon his arrival in town until he’s needed later in the afternoon. We may bring him back or just keep him.

A Friend recently Posted This - Too Funny (and Sadly All Too True)

Pint Sized Fun

Since we are at the height (well, probably the downslope) of the summer blockbuster season we inserted a second date night in the week to accommodate the latest entry into the Marvel universe with Antman. I really didn’t know what to make of this going in as I’m not inured in the intricacies of the above mentioned universe but I’ll watch anything Paul Rudd does.

This movie is a bit of a departure from the usual huge body blows of entertainment Marvel is justifiably famous for. It succeeds by raining a relentless series of entertaining rabbit punches though. Rudd plays a convict who selected to become the next Antman by Michael Douglas. This allows the movie to reach back into the earlier Avenger timeline and some really startling CGI to make Douglas appear young. It took me a while to recognize Evangeline Lily as the female lead but she more than hold her own in the impressive ensemble. Corey Stoll abandoned his hairpiece and lends some great texture to the villain but this is Rudd’s movie and he delivers a new kind of hero who’s a lot more grounded than the usual godlike Avengers. Although he does let Michael Pena steal every single scene he appears in. Pena remains one of the most interesting actors currently working. This movie works precisely because it doesn’t aim for the usual overblown Avenger scenarios. It’s funny, smart, and a lot of fun while I do mourn the thousands of CGI ants who sacrificed their lives in the final battle.  

I’m going to continue my diatribe against the descent of national news organizations into complete mediocrity. While there is a major war going on in the Middle East, Russia trying to reestablish its empire, Europe teetering on insolvency, and a US presidential election ramping up (with the caveat of not missing any more Trump coverage) the following is an unedited list of the actual lead headlines from one of the major network’s news website yesterday (I’m not kidding):

Teen's Nosebleed Leads to 3 in Family Diagnosed With Dangerous Illness

Inside Taylor Swift's Twitter Spat With Nicki Minaj

Prince George Turns 2! Check Out 17 of His Cutest Photos

This Photo of Hugging Dogs Inspires Rescue Before Euthanasia

Anthony Geary Reflects on Playing Luke Spencer on 'General Hospital'

Is a Lion Roaming the Streets of Milwaukee?

How Curious Cows Helped Save a Stranded Baby Seal

Bindi Irwin Opens Up About Dating

New Horizons Reveals More of Pluto’s Secrets

How New Dr. Seuss Book Was Discovered in a Box by His Widow

Who's This Future Game Show Host Extraordinaire?

Julia Roberts Lists Greenwich Village Apartment for $4.5 Million

I had to delve down two or three sub menus before I came across any real “news”. I try to be an optimist and believe in the future of our society but this gives me pause. The true guardians of democracy are the unfettered press. As freedom’s watchdog private news media promotes public scrutiny of governmental decision-makers. I am astounded by the sad condition of Fourth Estate if this is an example of what they consider important. Maybe we are headed for an idiocracy.

Tying in a Granite State Farewell

My wife’s fashion sense once again exploded on the scene yesterday. It is well chronicled that I have zero fashion sense which made serving in the military, where they tell you what to wear each day, a Godsend to anyone I worked with. I cannot remember the last article of clothing I purchased for myself (outside of the odd pub t-shirt during pone of my habitual crawls). My wife has really risen to the occasion during our marriage to insure I don’t look like a poster child for the fashion challenged. Moving into the civilian world where I actually have to decide what to wear each day has allowed full rein dressing her life size “Ken” doll. I was a little worried yesterday when I saw the uniform of the day involving a blue shirt and an orange tie. Since I’ve come to terms with my complete lack of style I threw caution to the winds and headed into work. We had an early morning meeting and every single female at the meeting came up to me and complimented me on my “ensemble”. I dutifully reported this to my favorite Panamanian who only nodded sagely.

I’ve noted before that the move into Worcester has opened up more possibilities since travel times have been reduced compared to our more remote Charlton habitation. Yesterday we took advantage of this new mobility by journeying up to Keene after work to participate in a birthday/farewell party at Keene Friend 2’s home for his girlfriend’s daughter. I reported last year on a similar party as she prepared to leave for a job in Argentina. She and my wife ended up salsa dancing in the yard so she was culturally prepared for the move.

Wife and I With Guest of Honor

She’s had a great year down south although her mother misses her desperately. She was only able to come back for two weeks and is returning today to Argentina. Although there was a lot of competition to talk with her she managed to relate her year of adventure which included witnessing the huge volcanic explosion in neighboring Chile and becoming a member of a local salsa team (yep).

Great Time

It was a great, understated time and I got to hang with Keene Friend 2 as he performed duties at the grill. His girlfriend’s huge family descended on the yard to wish the young lady a bon voyage and it was fun to sit on the side of all that reflected love. As the sun was setting and the voracious New Hampshire mosquitos started their nightly infiltration we bid adieu. We stopped in to wake up Keene Friend 1 who had just returned from extended hours in his un-air conditioned work.

Wife and Keene Friend 2

We were back home in time to see the latest Sox debacle but also felt recharged that being close enough to be able to attend the party. This move just keeps paying benefits although my wife did spend the afternoon out shopping with the neighboring Mafioso. I kelp forgetting to seize her credit cards when I leave for work.

Great People

Wreckage

Insert here my customary complaint about the arrival of Monday with the attendant requirement to actually do some work, enough said. As chronicled earlier in the blog I’ve been in a running battle with our technology company who quoted a wildly inflated price for some work that needed to be done. They insisted the work, which included driving around Worcester to map out bus route modifications, would take six days. I told them they must be sniffing some of their favorite chemicals and that we could get the work done in one day.

In an attempt to make their point they had their guy and his techno van show up at 8am on Monday expecting it would take us some time to get organized and at least push us into an additional, billable day. Since I’d made such an ass over myself insisting the work could be done in one day – I was ready for them. It was a true United Nations effort as the tech company guy was Haitian, my driver was El Salvadoran and I’m whatever I am. The guy I’ve been doing battle with called several times to check in on us and seemed genuinely rattled when I told him we were taking a full hour for lunch since we were so far ahead of schedule. We finished with two hours to spare, well short of one day, much less the six they quoted. Life is all about the small victories.

The Baby Robins Were Learning how to Fly Yesterday
Buddy was a Little Freaked Out but Supplied the Necessary Motivation
Nest is Now Empty

Being so busy helped decompress from the fantastic weekend just passed. It prevented me from dwelling too much on how much fun was dispensed changing with some of my favorite people in the world. Since we’re heading back up to Keene tonight for a birthday party the decompression needed to go only so far. Date night was rolled back into Monday and we saw the movie – Trainwreck, one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a very long time.

It’s hard to imagine finding fertile ground in the well-trod subject of girl meets boy but this film takes the traditional rom-com and turns it inside out and sixteen ways from Sunday.

Amy Schumer is so funny in the title role as a New York gal with serious “issues” when it comes to men. The movie is stock full of fantastic cameos and supporting roles including another magnificent turn by Tilda Swinton (does she ever do anything bad?). Bill Hader also finally gets to emerge from his usual background roles to play the guy who may finally be right for Amy. There are too many laugh out loud moments to chronicle and while the film does limp a little to the finish line, that’s almost a relief after laughing continuously for nearly two hours straight.

I also finished off my latest foray into Christopher Nuttall’s Empire sci fi empire series (book eleven) First to Fight. He abandons his ongoing war of the collapsed galaxy wide human empire to look back at the origins of one of the lead protagonists, Colonel Stalker. Nuttall’s brave to take on the basic training of futuristic military since Heinlein set the bar so high in Starship Troopers. Nuttall is up to the task though and delivers a fascinating look at Slaughterhouse, the planet devoted to training the Empire Marines. It was hinted at throughout the other books in the series but he now takes the reader through Stalker’s own experience training there as a young man.

We then follow Stalker through some of his earliest assignments and this is where Nuttall is at his best, with close combat scenes. He has an innate ability to capture the emotions and actions of the warriors as they handle escalating violence against the backdrop of the failing empire that sent them out. This is a fabulous addition to the empire series which was starting to grind down a little as it was forced to focus on higher and higher levels of the military-political spectrum. We’re back in the dirt and blood with the fighting marines which is what drew me to the series to being with.