Appreciating Heat Day

I’ve written before about the peaks and valleys the vagaries of life routinely inflict on everybody.  If you read yesterday’s post you knew I was definitely in a vale state of mind on Saturday.  I didn’t expect to gain a great deal of altitude yesterday because I was spending the whole day at work in charge of the company picnic.  Another thing about life – it will constantly surprise you; I had a great time.

We Put All the Different Buses Out for Employee Families to See

I took on the task of the picnic as part of the project to help union-management relations, which have improved against all odds.  I held a survey to find out what people wanted to do and picnic came out on top.  In my never ending search to make my life as difficult as possible I piggy backed as many of the other events requested on top of the picnic, so we had a chili competition, a pie baking competition, a bounce house, a snow cone machine and a bus roadeo as well.  I spent most of the day charging around to the different events but I took some sort of perverse pride in keeping everything going.

I lamentably ( J )  had to miss church for the final set up but I did engage in some heavy prayer time concerning the caterer showing up (so I got that going for me). The whole team showed up early and everything was ready as scheduled and well over 100 employees participated.  One of the highlights of the day was a dunk tank where employees could see if their “favorite” manager could float.  I was the first one up and after rushing around on the heated pavement it was a relief to spend a half hour dangling my feet in the water. 

I'm Perched on the Dunk Tank

This Little Gal Was Deadly

The employees loved the opportunity this event presented and led to a lot of good back and forth.  My wife did attend church but apparently did not take to heart any of the lessons taught because she immediately ran over and pushed the dunking target while laughing uproariously at submersing me.  I wore a silly outfit which surprised a lot of the employees who think I am in a perpetually serious mode (if they only knew!). 

Standing Between my Excellent Boss and His Wife in my Dunk Tank Outfit
I Can Still Fit into the Uniform Pants!

The big event of the day was the bus roadeo.  That is not a misspelling.  A roadeo is an obstacle course of bus driving skills that test the drivers to maneuver huge buses though some very tight spots.  I’d never seen one before but when they said they wanted to do it I found a course layout and score cards on-line and with the help of a senior driver set the course up to standard.  It involved tennis balls on washers that the drivers had to maneuver the double wheeled rear tires through without touching; there was whole 3” to spare.  The rest of the course was a series of twists and turns using traffic cones.

The Roadeo

I spent two hours running back and forth on the course keeping everything moving while making ongoing comments via loudspeaker to the crowd.  At the end I could see why the drivers wanted to do it.  It gave them a chance to show their families the very difficult job they have and the skills they’ve developed.  I was just hot as hell and ready to go back to the dunk tank. 

The Loudspeaker and I were Constant Company

The dunk tank had eradicated most of my sun block (30-40 dunkings will do that) so I earned a sun burn on most of the exposed extremities but i felt a huge sense of success when the congratulations poured in from employees and bosses alike.    This was the kind of activity I cherished as company commander when you got your hands dirty with the troops getting things done.  By the end of the day I realized why company commanders are so young as my middle aged body was a little tortured.  My wife pointed out that I probably didn’t want to drive home with my underwear (drying from dunk tank endeavors) still hanging from the car door.  I concurred, after due consideration.

She Was Probably Right

The only thing on my Sunday evening schedule was checking in on the Red Sox Yankee game.  My daughter and Wing Man were at the game and I spent the entire game trying to spot them.  It turns out that is fairly impossible amongst a crowd of 50,000.  But it did provide the excuse to remain in couch potato position #1 for the entire night and the Red Sox even won which only completed the ascension the entire day involved.

Wing Man and Daughter in the Heart of the Evil Empire

Valley time today though and not just because it’s one of those horrible Monday things.  My wife is heading south to Virginia for ten days leaving Buddy and I to fend for ourselves as virtual bachelors.  Her Maine friend showed up late last night and as I write this they’re driving south.  I hope this time they stop talking long enough to follow the directions I wrote out for them.

Saturday Slide

My Little Sister's Birthday Today
Not This Little Any More But Still Has a Sparkle in Her Eyes

I just want to turn the page on yesterday.  Not only was I denied the opportunity for my one annual golf game but about everything that could go wrong did.  I knew the day would call for some major running around but I felt I had the time to get the car inspected, go to work for the set up for company picnic, mow the lawn and then attend a neighbor’s high school graduation party.  The only thing that went as planned was the party (so at least I got that).

Per S.O.P. I waited until the last possible moment to get my car inspected since the sticker expires on Tuesday.  I went to the crusty local guy but he had a long line of fellow procrastinators and couldn’t get me in until after 3pm.  I went to option B which is another local garage and he took me right in; for all of five minutes.  He came out to tell me that my two front tires were down to “canvas” and he would have to fail the car. 

As my Wife Put it - My Car Getting New Shoes

He gave me a break and said since I had two whole days left he wouldn’t put a rejection sticker on (love the small town guys).  I left there for work and was now extremely cognizant of the “dangerous” tires (his words not mine) I was traveling on.  So on my way I pulled into the local tire warehouse and $600 later had all new tires.  Proceeding to work I found the caterers had arrived early and begun setting up (in the wrong place).  I don’t think I’ll make any of their Christmas lists this year as they had to move everything to where it was supposed to be.  Damned civilians just can’t be bothered to learn how to read a simple map.

Set Up Complete

Once that was done there was a mad dash back to the inspection station (which closed at noon).  I proudly proclaimed I was the owner of some new tread and he bemusedly passed me.  I started to feel a little better (if poorer) at this point and looked forward to contemplating life while riding around mowing the lawn.

Alas my luck held true as to the negative cash flow as the mower greeted my attempts to start it with absolute contempt and that never happens.  It would barely turn over so it looks like there’ll be another round of jousting with the Sears repair dude, scheduled for Wednesday afternoon.  Stayed tuned for more hijinks and shenanigans as the next chapter in that epic relationship goes down.

Neighbor's Party

Finally something went right later in the afternoon with the neighbor’s party.  The graduating gal is a real sweetheart and makes the best cupcakes on the face of the earth.  We only knew the other neighbors attending but it was a fun crowd of older people along with the obligatory cluster of way too young graduating seniors.  One of the people I didn’t know told me I look exactly like James Taylor.  He’s going to be pissed when he hears what I’ve done with his singing voice. 

My Party Date

We sat around a table with another couple who said they were trying to figure out where they knew us from.  Finally the lady said, “You’re the dancing couple from Maxwell Silverman’s!”  I averred that the wife does the dancing while I plod along behind her.  This other lady goes to Maxwell’s regularly and remembered us from there.  They were a lot of fun as a couple.  They were both widowed, retiring, started dating a couple months ago, and were really in love.  It was kind of cool to see the blushes of first love in such an unexpected milieu.

My Wife With the Maxwell Couple

After a few hours of really needed fun we started to make our way across the lawn to our place when my wife shanghaied the DJ.  He was married to a Latina so they were soon into a deep discussion on the best dancing music.  Armed with prior experience at these type encounters, I sat down to wait out the inevitable conversation.  While there I noted the graduating seniors sneaking into the coolers labeled “adults only” and procuring inappropriate beverages for their age.  Remembering my own graduation party I was not going to be an immense hypocrite and say anything – kind of nostalgic to see things haven’t changed in almost a half century.

My Wife at the DJ Table

Cranky Old Guy Reflections

Empty Chair at Brew City
I Sent this To a Guy Who Failed to Show Up and Honor
The First Friday of the Week

Yesterday was accomplished with appropriate First Friday of the Week Celebrations commencing at Brew City and concluding at Zorba’s.  I was presented with an intriguing opportunity at Brew City.  If you read this blog at all you know that I have become an ardent practitioner of the well-known art of pub crawling.  I’ve always assumed Worcester was too big and random for one.  One of the ladies last night opined that Shrewsbury Street (where Brew City is located) would be a perfect location for a pub crawl.  I was instantly intrigued and started plotting the route.  Invitations to follow!

My Zorba's Date - Too Cute 

I’m going to spend a healthy portion of the day at work today getting ready for tomorrow’s Company Picnic which I’m in charge of.  Part of the challenge will be to make a 100+ year old trolley house look warm and welcoming – the old lipstick on a pig conundrum.  This will also prevent a repeat of last year’s golf outing with my favorite cousin which is going down today – no more team jello shots (damn!). 

A former military buddy sent me the following essay on why it makes a lot more sense to send cranky old guys like me into the military versus all these young bucks.  It is too funny not to pass on:

“I am over 60 and the Armed Forces thinks I'm too old to track down terrorists. You can't be older than 42 to join the military. They've got the whole thing ass-backwards.  Instead of sending 18-year olds off to fight, they ought to take us old guys. You shouldn't be able to join a military unit until you're at least 35. For starters, researchers say 18-year-olds think about sex every ten seconds. Old guys only think about sex a couple of times a month, leaving us more than 280,000 additional seconds per day to concentrate on the enemy.

Young guys haven't lived long enough to be cranky, and a cranky soldier is a dangerous soldier. 'My back hurts! I can't sleep, I'm tired and hungry.' Were bad-tempered and impatient, and maybe letting us kill some ***hole that desperately deserves it will make us feel better and shut us up for a while.....

An 18-year-old doesn't even like to get up before 10am. Old guys always get up early to pee, so what the hell. Besides, like I said, I'm tired and can't sleep and since I'm already up, I may as well be up killing some fanatical son-of-a-bitch. If captured we couldn't spill the beans because we'd forget where we put them. In fact, name, rank, and serial number would be a real brainteaser.

Boot camp would be easier for old guys.... We're used to getting screamed and yelled at and we're used to soft food. We've also developed an appreciation for guns. We've been using them for years as an excuse to get out of the house, away from the screaming and yelling. They could lighten up on the obstacle course however..... I've been in combat and never saw a single 20-foot wall with rope hanging over the side, nor did I ever do any push-ups after completing basic training. Actually, the running part is kind of a waste of energy, too..... I've never seen anyone outrun a bullet.

An 18-year-old has the whole world ahead of him. He's still learning to shave or to start a conversation with a pretty girl. He still hasn't figured out that a baseball cap has a brim to shade his eyes, not the back of his head. These are all great reasons to keep our kids at home to learn a little more about life before sending them off into harm's way. Let us old guys track down those terrorists..... The last thing an enemy would want to see is a couple million hacked off old farts with bad attitudes and automatic weapons, who know that their best years are already behind them.

HEY!! How about recruiting Women over 50.... in menopause! You think MEN have attitudes? Ohhhhhhhh my goodness!!! If nothing else, put them on border patrol. They'll have it secured the first night! Send this to all of your senior friends..... it is in big type so they can read it.”

Defacatapocalypse and Rods

For those of you worried about Buddy the Wonder Pooch and his gastro-intestinal distress he seems on the mend this morning.  That was a welcome sign since we’re calling last evening the “defacatapocalypse” (say that three times fast).  My wife chose possibly the worst day possible (in Buddy’s eyes) to spend the entire day out shopping for a sister’s dress for the upcoming wedding (all things at this point are wedding related).  We returned home in the afternoon to find poor Buddy mired in his own effluent.  It was obvious he put up a gallant battle as he looked apologetically at what he had wrought.

My wife gagged her way upstairs and then remembered another shopping chore and immediately departed, leaving Buddy and I with mess.  I brought the Wonder Pooch outside and hosed him down just as the skies opened up with some serious rain for the first time in two weeks.  I gingerly transported his rather pungent kennel outside and hosed that off as well before Buddy experienced the indignity of not one but three different baths.  All of this took place in that driving rain storm so it was unclear who ended up wetter. 

Buddy and His Disassembled Home Last Night

I had to take the kennel completely apart to render it habitable again.  Buddy was a good sport about everything except the baths.  It was impossible to blame him but our commiserating hugs were delayed until he dried off.  He spent the night in the garage with the kennel open and came through without any issue.  I got the impression he kind of liked the arrangement.

I issued an “All Clear” and the wife’s shopping errand mysteriously ended almost immediately.  She returned and we got on the phone with the son who said the final wedding invites are going out today instead of earlier as planned.  He also stated that the MEF was expecting a superb new nickname when her fiancé status is eradicated, so the pressure is on.  She wants something at least as cool as Wing Man.  My first foray, “Chocolanator” was met with tepid response.  Her new title will be revealed in early August.

I finished the latest book in my old drinking buddy Tom Kratman’s sci fi opus, The Rods and the Axe yesterday.  It continues the story of a war on an alternate earth between a militarized Panama (called Balboa) and the European Union (called Taurans).  This story has grown in the telling and is approaching epic status.  This book delivers on the promise of the earlier books with the long hinted major battle as the bad guys try to land on a fortress island as a prelude to invading Balboa proper.

Tom has a great ability to capture the world wide scope of strategic efforts while never shortchanging the reader on the basest of tactical levels. In almost head spinning fashion as we go from national leaders maneuvering at an international conference to the desperate fight in a Balboan fighting position.  I could not put the book down after the half-way point.

Tom also takes his usual pointed and withering pot shots at the idiocy of progressive politics and political correctness which can approach hilarious.  I can’t wait for the saga to continue.  Thankfully Tom writes as fast and well as he sings mournful military ballads so we won’t be denied the next chapter too long.

Sweetly Bitter Lunch

The last lunch for a while yesterday with the son was somewhat bitter sweet.  The sweet part being he will no longer be driving nearly three hours every day in order to work close enough to make these lunches possible.  The bitter part will be the lack of mid-week filial morale boost I’ve kind of gotten used to.  I do feel good that I’ve made the most of these opportunities over the past couple years – something I swore to do when he returned from the Middle East. Lunch was wedding heavy in terms of content.  The last invites entered our postal system yesterday as that momentous event looms on a rapidly approaching horizon.  I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to call the MEF after the wedding.  The son in law is now “Wing Man” so I would be remiss if I did come up with a similarly suitable appellation for this fine young lady.  The son and I were on a mission yesterday on a shared I-Pad to track down the one elusive mother-son dance song (important stuff) my wife has become fixated on.  We achieved moderate success but will have to call in the family IT expert (daughter) to make it work.

Son and I Yesterday
On The Up Side - I'll No Longer be Able to Inflict These Weekly Photos On You

The secondary explosions of Buddy’s Tuesday smoke alarm melt down continued to cook off yesterday as well.  The heavy dosage of stress drugs he consumed led to some gastro-intestinal issues including some projectile bowel movements, some delivered in fairly spectacular fashion (pity the neighbors).  I’d hoped he was over the worse last night but as I made my way downstairs this morning my nose told something else.  I was presented with a fairly large mess (I’ll spare you the photo – you’re welcome) but I was amazed and not a little impressed that he got 98% of it outside the cage through the door gate.  My morning bike ride is not too far from his cage so it made for a pungent workout, even after the clean-up.

At the risk of moving the Cantankerous Friend into the spontaneous combustion mode I have to comment on the amazing parallels between Obama and possibly the most inept of modern presidents, Jimmy Carter, in terms of foreign policy.  He has yet to launch the needed air strikes in Iraq because he’s tied them to a change in the Iraqi government, again very Carteresque.  Like Carter he’s trying to impose American sensibilities and political correctness on a foreign society and like Carter the next generation of Americans will be paying the butcher’s bill for the eight years of inept Obama foreign policy. There’s an element of ruthless pragmatism needed in foreign affairs that is sorely missing from President Street Activist.

Faulty Canine

The wife had a very long day yesterday courtesy of Buddy the Wonder Pooch. His terrors associated with thunderstorms, rain, fireworks, trains, and brass bands are well chronicled in this blog.  Yesterday he added battery failing smoke alarms to the list of things that send him into spasmodic hyper-pain in the ass mode.  As with most newer houses our house is liberally festooned with smoke alarms which start beeping when the batteries fail even though they’re connected to the power supply.

Buddy Hovering Over His Tormentor

My wife was trying to figure out what was causing the chaotic behavior until she heard the faint beep going off.  Buddy was liberally dosed with the medication we give him for thunderstorms but that only quelled him for a little bit.  My wife was at the end of her rope (and conceivably Buddy’s continued existence) when I got home to find various barricades erected to corral the psychotic canine.  I tracked down the offending alarm which continued to beep even after I removed the battery.  I started to wonder if I needed a wooden stake to shut the damned thing off.  It spent the rest of the day out on the back deck and Buddy came in for a soft landing.

My wife, in serious need of some R&R, and in an effort to reduce the planned assassination attempts against my favorite black dog, I took one for the team and saw a chick flick for date night.  We saw The Fault in Our Stars which told the story of a young gal with terminal cancer who meets the love of her life, another cancer survivor.  I was prepared for a serious deluge of female tears and life affirming catch phrases but this came at me from a different direction.

Tear Jerking But Life Affirming

I give almost the entire credit to the two young stars Shailene Woodley and Ansel Elgort.  There is electric chemistry between these two actors and this is the first movie in a long time where I left totally fascinated by the craft of two actors playing off each other.  Woodley has already impressed in a number of movies but Elgort was a revelation as the cocky but sweet male lead.  The plot doesn’t sugar coat the reality the characters deal with and doesn’t succumb to the Hollywood need to over dramatize.  The quiet courage of the characters and the poignant love story even had this grizzled old movie goer a little misty eyed by the end; a really, really good movie.  My wife was crying buckets of course and this hopefully distracted her from any calculated executions.

Innovative Curtainship

A short post today (you’re welcome) because they’ve finally cooked up enough work around this place to keep me busy for the next week.  For some perverse reason I’m kind of stoked about that. 

The stoking continues with the news last night that my son‘s company is putting him to work on a construction project in Portsmouth, where he lives.  This means he won’t have the daily three hours on the road driving to and from his current office.  Sadly it also means the end, for the nonce, of our weekly morale lunches.  Tomorrow should be the last for a while but I’m so happy he will no longer have those soul depleting drives every day.

The Construction Phase

Regular readers of the blog know that my wife, a pint sized ball of Panamanian energy, is kind of the star of the show.  A couple weeks ago we had some people over and while we were sitting on the back deck the wind (constant state at the top of our hill) kept blowing the curtains into everyone’s face.  We need the curtains in the afternoon due to a brutal sun field that is our back yard.

Installation

She was determined to overcome this obstacle and invented an ingenious solution for about twenty dollars in sunk costs.  She took the curtains down and sewed a pocket in the bottom of them that could hold one of the sand filled snakes used for reducing under door drafts.  She wasn’t sure it would work but last night she unveiled her invention and it worked beautifully.  She’s pretty sharp.

Quiet - Genius at Work

Resurrection Sunday

After my wife’s failed attempt to kill me on Saturday through extended work, diaper party, and dancing she took pity on my abused state of mind by directing a road trip up to my hometown.  The Keene Friend had one of his rare days off so we descended on him along with the Wonder Pooch to brighten his day.  The fact that we have so much fun hanging out with him should in no way detract from the humanitarian aspect of our road trip.

Wife and I at Lunch

After a lunch with great views of Mount Monadnock my wife said we should pick up a needed gallon of paint at Home Depot since it would be tax free.  She promised to wait in the car but felt the siren call of the garden center as soon as we pulled in.  Knowing this was a dangerous time I hurried through the paint purchase figuring if I was quick enough I could take advantage of her one known shopping vulnerability – inability to make quick decisions.

With this Guy!

Alas I was thwarted when we tracked her down and discovered in less than five minutes she had acquired nearly $50 worth of additional plants (because we are so short of them back home).  She blithely explained the lack of taxes fueled her decision making skills.  I may be having second thoughts about moving back to New Hampshire.

To escape further discussion of the purchase she dropped Keene Friend and I off in the middle of town while she headed for some of her favorite haunts (TJ Maxx quivered in anticipation).  The two abandoned guys ended up in the Scores Sports bar (huge surprise there).  It was virtually empty when we got there but the owner stopped by to say a big crowd was expected in a couple hours for the US-Portugal soccer game.

Sign Outside Scores
Seen From a Distance the Large Letters of free Beer Stands Out
Until You Get Closer and see the Minuscule "WiFi" and "Cold"
That's Okay - They Had me at Beer

Since we were happily immersed in the tidal wave of televised sports and samples of the brewing arts we were content.  We tried to raise a crowd of friends but the only respondent was another high school classmate who stopped by in the midst of moving into a new home (dedication) and another from Pittsburgh who joined us telephonically.  I may have to buy the Cantankerous Friend a cell phone to bring him into the 21^st century as he remained elusive once again.  Then again, maybe I don’t want to do that to myself.

High School Buddies in Scores
Before It Became packed with a Soccer Crazed Crowd

The owner turned out to be right about the soccer crowd as the place was packed by game time.  So I have now watched my second complete soccer game and it was a lot more fun with such a lively crowd despite the crushing late goal to tie the game.  There was even a “USA” chant started at one point.  Americans excited about soccer – I have lived to see it.  We were having so much fun that we convinced my wife to join us for the last twenty minutes of the game .

She surprised herself as well as us by thoroughly enjoying the environment.  The mesmerizing lure of so many televisions is not for the weak of heart.  After the stunning conclusion of the game we eventually tracked down the waitress long enough to pay and wandered across the street to Margarita’s for a late evening dinner.  We dined outdoors as the late Sunday rhythms of my hometown played out along Main Street; including a very entertaining drunk who staggered by and professed his love for everyone within earshot. 

Dinner at Margarita's

It was a great day decompressing with friends and further cementing my conviction to somehow end up living back in my home town. 

Married to an Assassin

My wife is trying to kill me.  There can be no other explanation for my Saturday just past.  We spent the entire day painting the back deck as planned.  It was another glorious New England summer day so that wasn’t the deadly part.  It was actually a lot of fun hanging with the spousal unit while she regaled me with my failure to take adequate care as I spewed deck stain liberally across the landscape.

The Deadly Lady Slinging Some Paint Yesterday

We were fairly exhausted in the late afternoon when we declared victory.  We had to go to a diaper party for the next door neighbor who’s expecting twins in September.  Everyone invited to the party was expected to show up with diapers (in boxes not wearing, c’mon).  We decided to take a quick break on the couch and since the world cup was on we were soon fast asleep.

Finished!

Rising from our slumber we groggily headed next door apologizing to the neighbors for being late and blaming it on the traffic.  We were clearly the oldest people there but it was fun watching the legion of kids cavorting across the yard.  They had a huge bounce house to mass on and we took up station at the face painting station. 

Next Door Bounce House

A couple hours there was followed by the assassin’s bullet.  She cashed in my mother’s day promise of a night of dancing in Worcester.  I think I’m in pretty good shape but seven hours bent over painting the deck were not conducive to a night of tickling the floorboards at Maxwell Silverman’s but my wife (as with most Latinas) has a hidden reserve of strength whenever dancing is involved and she more than proved that last night.

We got to Maxwell’s after 9 pm (wardrobe decision matrix problems) and ran into the usual crowd of slightly scruffy middle aged singles. My wife did allow a few adult beverages around the three hours spent mostly on the dance floor.  You may construe from all of this I wasn’t a huge fan of the event but that is merely my public pronouncement.  I had a really fun time hanging with my would-be assassin – she kind of does that to you.  Deadly but impossible to resist and hey, I did survive.

Late Night at Silverman's
Selfie's Don't Flash

As we made our way home sometime after midnight we engaged in a texting exchange with our daughter in Minnesota.  She and the Wing Man’s thoughts were back in NYC where her best friend was reaching the end of more than thirty hours of labor and heading in for a c-section.  We promised to pray for her as well as reminding her that this was eerily reminiscent of her own birth.  We awoke today to the welcome news that a healthy young man has joined the curbside gals.  Welcome little cheezit!   

They Did Find Some Time to Have Fun
Daughter and Wing Man Yesterday

Transition to Weekend Limbo

Yesterday was possibly the most perfect (is that possible?) day weather wise with bright sunshine and almost no humidity.  It was the kind of day that was emblazoned in my memories from growing up in New England.  Over the quarter century I was away I convinced myself these kind of days were routine when summer arrived.  The reality turned out to be a tad more humid and less idyllic but yesterday served as a reminder of what I fantasized about.

I was lucky enough to spend the entire morning outside as I worked with one of our senior drivers to lay out a competition course for next week’s company picnic.  It was interesting work although I did sacrifice my reading glasses which disappeared under mysterious circumstances.  That led to an interesting afternoon in front of the computer with my back up pair which were missing one arm.

Afternoon at the Hub

My excellent boss rescued me from the delicate nasal balancing act the backup pair required by suggesting we spend some time at the downtown bus hub talking with customers and bus drivers.  That led to the usual flotsam and jetsam of Worcester society observations – some extremely interesting characters although it did lead me to rethink my earlier comments about the welcome change in female summer attire.  There should be a weight limit on the wearing of thongs in public view.

A Good Looking Date

We salved our bruised optic nerves with some Brew City libations for a First Friday celebration.  This was followed with a Zorba’s date with my favorite Panamanian who looked devastating in a summer dress and restored my faith in female summer fashion.  My daughter had an early morning flight scheduled to join the Wing Man in Minnesota but he reported via text while we were at Zorba’s that she spent the entire day at the NYC airport with airplane woes.  She acquired her lack of patience from yours truly so I know she had a miserable day.  I woke up this morning to some late night messages that she arrived late at night and had her feet in the pool while Wing Man recorded.

Daughter Feet in Minnesota

We’re attacking the deck this morning and hope to get it finished so we sneak up to New Hampshire tomorrow for a long delayed visit to Keene Friend.  

Washing Clean Daughter Bright

Yesterday was a long day and not just because of the extended daylight hours.  Any day that starts with a board meeting is bound to earn that appellation.  I was a little surprised when the political boss lauded me for “coming up with some needed changes” that he recommended for the board.  The changes were a result of our excruciatingly painful weekly Thursday meetings and I’m simply the guy that has to make them work.  I guess he needed a fall guy in case they don’t.  The best thing about the meeting was the lead “Voice of Inappropriate Worth” being distracted when they called for public comments.  She rose in indignant wrath when they ended the meeting without her monthly deposit of vile invective.  She was in high voice (but no one was listening) as I walked out from under the miasma of inflated political talk.

There followed an entire afternoon wrestling with technology trying to get a Microsoft Access based software package to function as advertised.  Anyone who’s had that unhappy task can commiserate with me.  Even the WPI educated computer engineer trying to assist me was reaching critical mass by the end of the afternoon. 

I came home in need of some outdoor time due to this extended sentence behind the desk.  Unfortunately this fell neatly into my wife’s plans for the evening.  On my way home I dropped off our power washer which needs an overhaul and I dreaded the scraping that would entail on the soon to be painted back deck.  It’s so much easier to power wash than it is to scrape – one of the great truisms of modern life. 

Another great truism – men just love the feel of a power washer in their hands.  It’s almost primordial (not that power washers existed in primordial times) but it certainly taps into some base male need – more power the better.  Show me a man that denies this and I’ll show you a man who’s never used one or is missing a Y-chromosome.  It was thus with a heavy heart that I anticipated the task sans power washer.

I failed to take into account my wife’s boundless ability to make friends.  She’s something of a gadfly around the neighborhood having made friends with fellow wives up and down the street.  She announced she had procured the loan of a power washer from one of those neighbors!  She knows I would never ask to borrow anything so she took the initiative.  I hid the gleeful dance my spirits were taking so as to not encourage her on too grand a scale.

The power washer turned out to be a small electric one which I’d never used before.  I was immediately skeptical that it had the appropriate level of power that my male needs called for.  I wheeled it back to the house while my wife engaged in a long conversation with the very cool neighbor lady that lent us the device.

The Unloaded Deck

Her conversation lasted just long enough for me to move everything off the deck (something we were supposed to do together).  She’s nothing if not a brilliant tactician.  I was a little leery of the power washer because I’d heard a rumor that electricity and water were not necessarily good together.  I was immediately converted because the machine was AWESOME!!!  I was soon covered in flakes of paint and stain working in a cloud of deflected mist as I scoured the deck and railings.

I was at it for a few hours since this was the second longest day of the year in terms of daylight and I never stopped.  I was truly in my element.  I’m totally serious about this.  If any of you ladies ever have trouble getting your man to do chores – buy him a power washer.  He’ll be seeking out things to scour soon after.  As I came out of my power washer induced trance I was exhausted but the deck was fully prepped and will only need a few days to dry.

The Scoured Deck and My New Favorite Toy
If the Gasoline Powered One Can';t Be Repaired
I'm Getting One of These!

Not that my spirits needed a boost this morning (it is in fact the First Friday of the week don’tchaknow) but my daughter succeeding sublimely.  She’s taking a quick trip out to Minnesota to see the Wing Man this weekend but before she left she sent me some really great pictures.  They were taken from her surprise 30^th birthday party last September.  Her birthday fell on the same day as a wedding of close friends in Connecticut.  Wing Man arranged for me to join them at the after party where her very cool friends planned the birthday celebration.  It was a transcendent moment and the pictures got me a little misty eyed, father and daughter kind of stuff.  See below:

The Moment I walked in Unexpectedly

Daughter Hugs Are Medicinally Relevant

Wing Man was Present as Architect of the Planned Surprise

Since there was a Cake - There Needed to be a Sword
Family Tradition

Daughter Taking Aim

She Didn't Miss

Such a Fun Night