Nadir

na·dir/ˈnādər,ˈnādi(ə)r/noun defined as the lowest point in the fortunes of a person or organization. "they had reached the nadir of their sufferings" synonyms: lowest point, lowest level, all-time low, bottom, rock-bottom.  I think that perfectly sums up how I feel about the Boston sports scene this morning after the end of the Red Sox season on Sunday and the shellacking of the Patriots last night in Kansas City.

Where Have You Gone?
My Wife Thanks You for the Beardless October

It was only a year ago that I was busily growing a playoff beard for a very likable, over achieving Red Sox team that went on to win the World Series.  A lot can happen in a year and I swore I would not criticize them because they won the championship last year.  Well the season’s over, so let the carnage begin.  The Sox tried to repeat their free agent luck of the 2013 but failed with Grady Sizemore, A.J. Pierzynski and Stephen (Nancy) Drew.  The young guys they counted on emerging this year Will Middlebrooks, Jackie Bradley Junior, and Xander Bogearts did not emerge with Bradley and Middlebrooks approaching complete catastrophes. Three of their established stars, Pedroia, Victorino, and Napoli were injured for the entire year.  With all of this, the team imploded in spectacular fashion because of their complete inability to hit, especially when someone was in scoring position.

All this being said I kind of like the way they’ve positioned themselves for the off season.  They don’t need a whole lot outside of a stud starting pitcher – John Lester, anyone?   While some of their young pitchers took their lumps this year that seems to be the natural progression and they’ll only be better next year.  This debacle of a season allowed them to test some of the young players and find out who has it and who definitely doesn’t.  Color me optimistic for 2015, hell I’m a Red Sox fan – it comes with the territory.

In Bill We Trust?

I wish I could feel that way about the 2014 Patriots.  All of a sudden (well maybe not so suddenly) the Patriots look old and overmatched, even though they’re a young team.  I think we all have to face the unfortunate truth that time has sapped some of the pixie dust out of Tom Brady’s right arm.  He looks overmatched at times which I never thought I say.  He always overcome poor protection with decisive quick releases but that skill seems to have seriously eroded.

Time to Be a Leader Young Thomas

I’m going to blame the ABFA, at least partially, for last night’s debacle.  She had Kansas City’s star player on her fantasy football team and was praying all day that he would come up big.  This is the seamy underside of fantasy football where you end up rooting against your own team.  I may have to reduce her ice cream allotment on her next visit.  I’m sure she’s busy consoling her husband who lost to my sister and brother in law when Gronk scored a meaningless touchdown in the waning minutes of the game.  Karma!

Fortunate Fantasy

Any day after the type of Saturday I enjoyed was bound to be disappointing however my familial resources banded together to make sure that did not occur.  My elder (but certainly not elderly) sister and brother in law journeyed up to our place from Rhode Island.  For those of you unacquainted with Rhode Islanders that is a huge trip usually undertaken only for dire emergencies.  Luckily these two remarkable people do not share that affliction.

For the Drive Home Yesterday The Big Guy Certainly Had his Paintbrush Out

They were coming up to share in that Sunday ritual that is fast becoming a religious like experience – the NFL Red Zone!!  My brother in law works in the sports media business and is usually tied up with work on NFL Sundays covering the Patriots.  Since the Pats were off until tonight this was a rare opportunity to get together and they were the prefect medicine to keep me from wistfully pining for Saturday.  My energy level wasn’t topping any charts yesterday.  Something my wife attributes to Saturday’s sampling of liquid refreshment.  Couch Potato Position #1 was just what the doctor ordered. 

We’re all in the family fantasy football league together so we spent the day bemoaning our fates.  My sister did more than bemoan as she seriously questioned her husband’s sports acumen as their team was being pummeled by my son’s.  My brother in law stated that my sister has taken the George Steinbrenner approach to joint ownership of their fantasy football team by basking in accolades when they thrive but scapegoating her co-owner when they do not.  I guess yesterday was a microcosm of the season as they fell behind early and my brother in law’s sanity and manhood were questioned severely.  Their team rallied late and my sister shifted gears to acknowledge the important role she played in deploying the selected players.  By the end of the night they were neck and neck with my (I’m sure nervous) son.

Brother in Law and Sister Behind the Ottoman Security Zone

My wife and I were up against the juggernaut of our league this week – the undefeated Keene Friend.  He pummeled us mercilessly through the early games.  The Red Zone lists the “perfect” fantasy players by position each Sunday based on performance.  Every single one of these dudes played for the Keene Friend!  Going in to the last night’s game we were behind by a dozen points.  We would have been soundly beating any other team in the league except for the colossus we were up against.  A minor miracle occurred when my last player had a career game while my opponent’s was only passable.  We ended up winning by less than a full point; the second week in a row my fantasy football match was decided by percentage points.  Since I’m not up against the league commissioner this week I think this result will stand.

Birthday Girl in NYC Yesterday Surrounded by her Excellent Friends

There were also a couple calls to the birthday girl yesterday as she flitted around New York City with friends and the Wing Man.  Buddy was in second heaven since he had the easiest mark in the Western World for scoring illicit food donations – my sister.  We finally had to protect her from his predations by positioning an ottoman in front of her so she could eat some of her own food and not have it begged away into a canine mouth.  She cannot resist him or any other animal for that matter (well maybe lizards).  Buddy was soon climbing the back of the couch to get at his mark.

Buddy Attempting to Breach Containment

Yesterday was fun because it was like slipping on that comfortable old t-shirt, surrounded by people I love and the attendant verbal jousting.  I don’t think it’s possible to underestimate the power of spending time with family.  Of course I’m singularly blessed in that department, even if my sister is a tyrant in her team ownership responsibilities.  I could care less about actually winning a fantasy football game but it’s already given us a couple of opportunities to hang out that probably wouldn’t have taken place without the league.  Viva Fantasy Football!!

Birthday Girl and Home Again

Birthday Girl Daughter and Son

Today is the birthday of quite possibly the most perfect daughter in the recorded annals of western civilization.  She’s much too far away in New York City celebrating with her friends and husband, the inimitable Wing Man, but today she’s even closer to our hearts.  I will always remember that first moment of seeing her wheeled out of the delivery room and the overwhelming emotions she elicited.  The years have done nothing to mitigate the impact of seeing her.  She is everything we, as parents, could possibly have hoped for.  Brilliant, caring, insightful to mention but a few of her qualities; oh and she’s drop dead beautiful as well.  It’s almost not fair for the rest of us.  Happiest of birthdays Heart of my heart.

Teeny Bopper Days

A Smile that Would Melt Glass

All Grown Up and Celebrating with Wing Man Yesterday

Yesterday was one of those elusive, all too fleeting, but truly cherished days of returning home.  I’ve written a lot about my quest to find a place that truly feels like home and put a lie to the old Army saying of, “you can never go home”.  Well yesterday, I was.  We had a very aggressive schedule of seeing houses up in Keene but everything worked out like clockwork.  We saw a total of seven houses, one more than scheduled, and we liked three of them.  The biggest disappointment was a house I’ve been stalking for almost a year now through Zillow. 

Disappointment House

I now understand why it hasn’t sold yet.  Even though it has a wet bar, two fireplaces, and a huge party room it would require significant upgrades to be livable.  The day wasn’t a disappointment other than that.  There are definitely houses in the price range we are looking for and we identified a couple areas of Keene where we’ll focus our search when and if we sell this place. 

It felt like home though because of the memories evoked as I drove around the city.  We didn’t take the usual roads since we were wandering fairly far afield and in many cases this was the first time I’d driven on them since doing so as a young guy with my parents.  The memories were cascading all day and thrown against the rapidly coloring foliage and perfect weather – it could not have been a better day; or so I thought.

We stopped by to see one of my mother’s oldest friends and she’s recovering nicely from a broken hip last year.  We then traveled to see another of her friends who lived within a stone’s throw of the first house I can remember living in.  She and her husband are still feisty and throwing barbs at each other despite the fact they’ve been married for sixty years.  We picked up the Keene Friend and we all went to eat at one of my mother’s old haunts, the Pub restaurant.  It was a fun evening of catching up and remembering my mother from her good years.  There’s something incredibly special about knocking the rust off a lifelong friendship that had been allowed to inadvertently oxidize.

Dinner at the Pub With Oldest Friends

After dropping them off we sped over to the Cantankerous One’s house where we kidnapped him for an evening at the local sports bar – Scores.  We were by far the oldest group in the bar as the college is in session and they’ve discovered this place.  I thought it was interesting that all the young men were paying scant attention to the dozens of sports channels playing.  I’m guessing it had something to do with the young ladies present clad as only an Indian summer day can provide; but I digress.

The Oldest People At Scores Last Night

The Cantankerous One was in fine form and tried to take me to task for my chronicling his adventures on the night of my son’s wedding.  Apparently his mother reads this blog and had several pointed questions concerning his antics on that night.  He tried to claim that I was using artistic license but if his mother only knew the truth! Well decorum prevents me from going into too much detail about his repeated run ins with hotel security and the thirty minute marriage to one of the PanaGals. 

We noticed a Notre Dame game on one of the screens and called Keene Friend 2 who is a fanatical Fighting Irish fan.  He reported he was watching a movie with his girlfriend and we were all shocked to absolute silence.  This boy is in love!

After finally deciding our gray hair wasn’t adding anything meaningful to the hormonal mating dance of the college kids we adjourned to Keene Friend’s house for additional libations.  A call was placed to College Roommate who dutifully reported on his spouse’s lavatorial activities.  We all guessed we weren’t the only ones that had sampled the brewer’s art last night.  After spending these hours with these people – I knew I was finally home.  Now I just have to figure out how to live there.

Firsts

This will be an abbreviated post as I’ll be loading up the car shortly to venture north to my hometown to look at houses.  We need to clear out since a couple showings of our own house are going down today.  We’ll check out six homes while we’re up there and end the day by waking up Keene Friend.  We’ll also check on the availability of the Cantankerous One fresh from his lionization of his favorite Yankee.

Street Lights over the Bar - Who Knew?

First Friday was a bit different yesterday since my excellent boss was out of town but the rest of the crew more than rose to the occasion.  It was strange to be surrounded by women (not that I’m complaining) for our weekly review of the week that was.  It was pointed out that Brew City had street lights over the bar.  I’ve been in that place for nearly ten years now and had never noted this.  Women notice the weirdest things.  My gaze always locked on the taps available.

Surrogate Grammy Time with Neighbors

I returned home to find my wife escorting the neighbor kids around a raspberry patch.  The neighbor was handling the twin boys while she squired their older sisters.  This has to be the cutest family and they provide my wife with the much needed (yet unfulfilled) “grandma” fix that our own progeny have yet to supply.

My Date Last Night

We then went out for dinner and the Friday magic that is Zorba’s pizza.  We felt we owed the ABFA a visit to Ronnie’s afterwards for the rapidly dwindling ice cream opportunity.  We did confirm that they don’t close for the season for another couple weeks so she just might get one more opportunity.

Well I’ve got to go load the car and hope Buddy’s head doesn’t explode when he sees me move his cage into the car.  That dog just loves a car ride.

Looking for a Hero

As a dedicated Red Sox fan I harbor no good will towards the icon of the moment – Derek Jeter.  I think he’s been a very serviceable player, always conducted himself professionally, and was absolutely clutch most of the time when needed.  He is, however, not a god although that would be hard to imagine if you’d turned on a sports program in the last two weeks.  Somehow his retirement is the start of a cataclysm of mythic proportions if the media is to be believed. 

My brother in law (one of my favorite writers) commented on this earlier in the week and he was spot on.  Jeter is a pro and played the game the way it is supposed to be played but c’mon he pales in comparison with the true legends of the game.  My brother in law made the point that this overwrought adulation was a reflection of today’s society.

I think that’s absolutely true but is also a stark reminder of how much manufactured emotion we’re exposed to by today’s media – especially sports media.  The media thinks we are in desperate need for a hero worth admiring that they manufacture one and then lionize him to the point of ridiculousness.  True emotion cannot be manufactured and in my mind this does nothing more than rob Jeter of some of the respect he has in fact earned.

When most of the manufactured heroes inevitably fail or are exposed as less than divine – the disappointment just adds to our collective angst.  The next time you’re watching a sports “news” segment and the background music wells up – you’ll know what I’m talking about.  I’ve seen enough movies to recognize poorly constructed drama.  This is sad because we have heroes galore in police, fire, and military uniforms keeping the wolves at bay which are the real timber this country is constructed of – not pampered celebrities who haven’t had to demonstrate real courage.  

Jeter to his immense credit always stood above the fray.  In his prime he was the very last batter I wanted at the plate against the Sox in a decisive situation.  He earned my respect over the years but I refuse to genuflect in his general direction.

The Weekly Selfie - sans Son
We were Supposed to Look Sad Because he Couldn't Attend
My Wife Just Looks Kind of Menacing

One person I would genuflect for is my son who was supposed to remedy his lack of availability for the hump day luncheon with a lunch date yesterday.  He was unfortunately under the weather and the ABFA was called upon to wifely minster to the sick.  This brought his mother up a little short as this was always her bailiwick.  She decided to fill in for her son and at least rescue me because let’s face it – I could use it.  We went out to lunch together and planned our weekend.  We’re going up to Keene tomorrow to look at several houses as potential homes if the sale of our house picks up steam.  I was given strict orders on the type of house she wanted see.    

That's Better

I then spent the afternoon contacting seven different agents for seven houses, figuring I wouldn’t be 100% successful.  This could also serve as an audition for a local agent if we found one that we liked.  I learned that real estate agents rarely answer their phones and rely on messages.  Only one did answer and she immediately moved to the head of the pack.  By the end of the day I had appointments set up for five of the houses.  The two I didn’t hear back from are definitely out of the running.

I don’t have my normal crew today for First Friday as two of the starting players (excellent boss and operations manager) are out of the lineup.  I do not intend to let that dissuade me from marking the first Friday of the week with appropriate liquid refreshment.

Wednesday – Need I Say More?

I’m not a huge fan of Wednesdays, especially yesterday where I was denied the only thing that made hump day worthwhile.  My son wasn’t available for our weekly lunch together so I was forced to amuse myself – an extremely tall task.  To complicate the overall worthlessness of the past day my excellent boss took off for the three days so I was doing his job as well as mine.  This seriously cut into my self-reflection time.

It didn’t cut into my reading time as I am entering a new “zone” when it comes to speed reading as I am deeply immersed reading sequentially Vince Flynn’s Mitch Rapp series.  Yesterday I finished off Protect and Defend.  To describe this book as a page turner would be a grotesque understatement.  I was sneaking in a few minutes throughout the day to find out what Mitch was up to in his latest adventure.

His boss, the head of the CIA, is kidnapped in northern Iraq by Iranians who make the tactical mistake of doing this while Mr. Rapp was in town.  In short order the Iranians who are trying to foment a war with the US are thrown completely on the defensive where Mitch for the first time demonstrates some real strategic acumen.  I’ve already started the next book in the series but face the dreaded end of the run since there are only three books remaining after that.  I will put a net call out at that point for suggestions on successor books otherwise depression will set in. Mitch Rapp provides an almost tangible high.

Third movie of the week last night where the wife and I moved away from action and adventure to see This is Where I Leave You.  I didn’t realize ahead of time that she-bitch, ultra-traitor Jane Fonda was in it or I would have made other plans.  Luckily that waste of oxygen wasn’t that big a part of the movie (or I may have been shutting my eyes when she was on camera) and only as a caricature.  This movie belongs to Jason Bateman who’s evolved into a very good actor.

He plays a guy who finds his wife in bed with his boss and then has to return home to stay with his family when his father dies.  There are some real heartfelt laughs as he navigates the week with his totally dysfunctional brothers and sister and may even discover a new love.  The interactions between brothers and sister felt very real even if some of the characters weren’t that likable.  A very strong cast made this truly enjoyable.  You almost have to be middle-aged to understand some of the rhythms and themes that underlay the plot which made it fairly unique in today’s cinema market.  I just wish they could have inserted some sort of painful death scene for the she-bitch.

We received some interesting news from the realtor yesterday that might scare the ABFA a bit.  The people with the sick kids who got me into so much trouble with my wife on Tuesday were actually making their second visit to the house.  Apparently they loved the house wanted to second visit so they can make an offer!  They will visit this weekend and will, I’m sure, try to low ball.  Thanks to my wife’s predilection for watching House Hunters late at night before going to sleep I know exactly how to treat such offers.  Have no fear ABFA, it still doesn’t look promising.

Marital Mazes

I’ve written before about trying to get a copy of the book women are issued post-wedding ceremony which lays out the tactics for managing husbands.  This handbook is obviously one of the closest held secrets which feminine wiles have yet to reveal.  While I admire the opposite sex’s operational security concerning this tome I found myself victimized by it’s techniques again yesterday. 

We had a showing scheduled for the house which my wife ably prepared for.  We usually get the feedback from the showing via our realtor.  My wife called around noon to ask if I’d heard and I blithely (and somewhat stupidly) told her that they had canceled at the last minute.  She then complained that this was unacceptable since she spent a half hour parked at the nearby mall with Buddy the Wonder Pooch.  I told her the buyers claimed their children were sick.  She scoffed at the idea and we left it at that (or so I thought!). 

I returned home following work and found her uncharacteristically quiet.  Since she’s usually the one carrying the conversation this led to an awkward silence which is never a good sign and invariably leads me to make the cardinal sin of asking her what’s wrong.  At the end of the next fifteen minutes I was apologizing profusely for the potential buyers having sick kids.  I’m still trying to figure out how the hell she does this to me.  I’ve got to get a copy of that book! 

Once I was properly castigated for my complete lack of empathy we decided on honoring date night.  We went to see the movie Maze Runner which I had no clue about.  This is apparently another one of those “young adult” series of books cloned from the DNA of the Hunger Games.  I was pleasantly surprised by the flick which was well edited and boasts a plot that keeps the action and tension taut enough to ignore the obvious inconsistencies and plot holes.  The story revolves around a group of teenaged boys thrown into the middle of a maze with their memories wiped out.  The door to the surrounding maze opens each day which allows the boys to explore before nightfall when menacing robotic creatures called “grievers” wander the maze to kill.

This was an updated take on the Lord of the Flies with the millennial youth doing much better with their isolation than their predecessors, or so it appears on the surface.  The movie is carried by the young cast, especially Dylan O’Brien in the lead role, who was so good in last year’s The Internship. This kid’s got a real future, someone to look out for.  I know this movie was aimed for the young fans of the books (if the teenybopper mutterings from the last row of the theater were any indication) but the film got my attention as well. I really liked this movie.  My wife did as well although the spider-like grievers promise to haunt her for a while.  She wants me to warn my son (who hates spiders) off.  

Finally Acts

In an effort to support his last remaining bastion of support, the Cantankerous One, our president finally got off his ass and landed a telling blow (hopefully) against the ISIS idiots in Syria.  His kumbaya approach to foreign policy allowed this group to flourish while he tried to build his “all important” coalition.  My only concern is with the Saudis and especially the Qataris (home of Al Jazeera) participating in the air strikes, if this really happened or is only a White House PR attempt.  If those two “staunch” allies knew too much about the operational planning than I’m more than sure ISIS was informed ahead of time to move their assets out before bombs fell.  

If they were smart enough to isolate the upper echelons of these allies from the actual operational planning and timing ( as I’m sure the military insisted) we might have actually hit something worthwhile.  As brutal as this might sound the target has to be the ISIS members themselves, not just their equipment.  These people cannot be reasoned with or rehabilitated; they must be killed.  As long as they draw breath they will continue their barbaric acts that any reasonable society must reject.  It is our duty to assist them with their stated goal of martyrdom (they have got be running short of virgins up there). 

The house showings are picking up.  This morning we had another which makes three days in a row.  I know this will be make the ABFA a little nervous but we haven’t had a serious offer yet.  The pristine condition to which the house must be before my wife would allow a stranger to enter gets kind of tiresome and diametrically opposed to my usual state of existence.  Everything I lay down (with the heartfelt intent to pick up later) ends up put away in some mysterious place to reduce clutter.  This would be fine if she could remember where said item was secured.

Back Yard This Morning - Trees are Changing

As I mentioned yesterday the trees are starting to change in earnest around the house heralding my favorite time of year. I started thinking about the fact that we have leaves on the trees for less than half a year around here (May through mid-October).  That seems to be somehow unfair on the cosmic level.  I’ll have to look into lodging some sort of protest.

Welcome to the Workforce!

A big shout out to my namesake nephew.  He recently graduated post secondary school as a trained mechanic and yesterday was his first day of work.  He's been a hard worker for his entire life and I have no doubts he'll be a success in his chosen career.  If his postings on Facebook are to be believed his first day of work was an unqualified success.  Again, no surprise.

I completed my latest sprint through a Vince Flynn thriller yesterday with Act of Treason.  I experienced my usual need to get through the book as quickly as possible because it was interfering with my ability to do anything else.  I know I’m doing this to myself but I can’t help it – these books are that good.  As I’m rushing through I keep telling myself to slow down and enjoy the material because there are a finite number of Flynn books remaining due to his untimely death.  It does no good whatsoever.

Flynn’s formidable hero, Mitch Rapp, is on the trail of an assassin who tried to blow up a presidential candidate or so everybody thinks.  The further he gets into his investigation, with the attendant bits and pieces of the guilty lying about, the closer he gets to the evil government-industrial alliance that put the assassination together.  Another great page turner and I’ve already started on the next one in the series; when will I learn?

Reflective Walks

Yesterday saw another house showing and the attendant frenetic cleaning period preceding it.  We faced the issue of vacating the house for the showing which was compounded by the timing right as the Patriots were kicking off.  Don’t these people watch football?!  I’m not sure I want to sell to them.  Since I wasn’t taking the chance of getting my wife anywhere near a shopping venue and risk losing the entire afternoon we opted for a walk on the country roads surrounding our house.

Buddy and I Wondering Why She's Walking So Slow

Buddy gave the plan an enthusiastic thumbs up but my wife was less than pleased with the non-mall aspects of the plan.  It was weirdly hot and humid yesterday but the foliage has taken up its autumnal color change with a vengeance.  The green tunnels were showing some real color.  My wife decided it was entirely too quiet and was soon blaring music from her I-phone and dancing.  Buddy and I took the business of walking a little more seriously (but I think she enjoyed it more).

It Was Because of the Dancing

We returned to the house where I immediately set about fast forwarding through the commercials to get to actual game action.  The Patriots once again played down to their competition and made a rookie quarterback look like one of the Manning brothers.  Luckily their defense was stout enough to weather the waiting period for the offense to figure things out. 

A Win is a Win

My wife is seriously into fantasy football now as she spent the entire afternoon on the couch monitoring our team.  Granted she was asleep for portions of that (probably due to the walk/dancing) but she hung in the entire day which was impressive.  She was frustrated that she couldn’t keep track of who belonged to whom so she availed herself of the draft board which was still hanging around.  She thought this was more personal than the computer I set up.

My Wife Consulting the Draft Board

We were up against our son, the commissioner, and we lost by less than a point.  I’m thinking of lodging some sort of protest because I’m sure he must have manipulated the scoring to eke out a win by .4 points against his biggest rival.  That would be pointless though as all appeals would be decided by, you guessed it, the commissioner.  Maybe I should appeal to the ABFA, she has some real influence in the commissioner’s office from what I’ve been told; but she would probably make to promise not to sell the house.  Oh well.

Since there were three movies out this week that will require our viewing we availed ourselves of the opportunity to salve our battered psyches after the close loss.  We went to see Walk Amongst the Tombstones which is the next in Liam Neeson’s middle aged renaissance of action parts.  He plays an alcoholic ex-NYC cop who is drawn into the search for a pair of serial killers stalking the high end of the city’s drug traffickers.

This is an interesting movie that doesn’t fall into the usual Hollywood trap of making everything about the action.  It takes a withering look at the lives of the people involved and Neeson’s search for his own humanity.  He takes a young homeless African-American boy under his wing while trying to solve the ongoing series of murders.  The movie takes place in 1999 which is kind of scary because I get the impression the movie makers consider that a long time ago.  I truly enjoyed this movie on all levels as all the flawed characters and two really spooky villains  hurtle towards the inevitable confrontation.  I love reading detective novels set in New York City and watching this was like reading one – really fast.

Floral Retreat

One of the sure signs that autumn is upon us occurred yesterday.  My wife’s bougainvilleas made their annual trek indoors for the winter.  My wife grew up surrounded by these tropical plants but they’re not well prepared for less than tropical weather, never mind a New England winter.  She has stubbornly nursed these three current plants through eight winters now.  As with all things plant related she’s kind of a savant.

Safely Blocking the Door for Another Winter

She was worried a few years ago when they weren’t thriving in the winter which is the time of year they’re supposed to flower more.  Her research revealed that they do best with southern exposed sunlight.  There’s only one problem, while our house has a multitude of windows and dramatic amounts of sunlight, we only have one southern exposed window, the side door.  Once she’s glommed onto an idea there’s no turning back and the bougainvilleas have spent the last few years there.

That’s fine except that’s Buddy’s main entrance and egress door.  A black lab’s tail and a tropical plant are never a good combination (trust me I’ve done a lot of research into this).  She’s now taken to draping the wide ranging branches up on the wall away from the buzz saw tail, something she learned in San Francisco.  Plant and dog can now peacefully coexist. 

My wife turns deaf ear to my complaints about the restricted access to the side door.  Not all of us are lithe canines, able to contort ourselves around a restricted avenue easily.  Getting old sucks.

A really quiet day yesterday except for another day long cleaning frenzy.  We’ve got a showing for the house today and tomorrow which sent my better half into one of her patented, full blown cleaning episodes.  She did not ascribe to my belief that the house was already pristine.  There’s apparently always something more to clean (an interesting theory).  She also removed the dozens of family photos we have strewn about the house, a tip she picked up on the H&G channel.  I don’t like this.  I loved glancing at the photos and reliving for a microsecond the times I’d spent with the person depicted.  I don’t think the people looking at the house today are Patriot’s fans since they scheduled right at the start of today’s game.  Thank God for the DVR!

His Excellence Recognized

Yesterday was scheduled to be a truly epic celebration of the First Friday of the Week because it coincided with the birthday of my excellent boss.  In tribute to the quality of the man involved it was even more fun than the schedule called for.  A larger than normal crew from work showed up and a former Assistant General Manager showed up with her husband all the way from Hartford (alright that isn’t so far but allow me some poetic license). This reunited the crew that was in place when I first joined the civilian work force back in 2005.  There was a heavy dose of reminiscing required.

My wife shares a cultural bias against being anywhere on time which has led to a marriage long battle of wills between us.  She’s gotten much better over the years and yesterday was betrayed by one of her own techniques.  I told her that I would pick her up at 3:30 and she had to be ready.  I showed up at 3:25 and she accused me of being late since she was ready at 3:00, as promised.  She had done to herself what I used to do which was telling her to be ready a half hour before the real time so she stood a chance of being ready on time.  Apparently her mind automatically shifted the time she was told back 30 minutes and convinced her that was the time I said.  I laughed while breathing a sigh of relief as we departed on time.

The Brew City Crew

The gathering at Brew City was everything we hoped it would be as the bar staff kept us well lubricated.  We now qualify as well tipping regulars.  We got a little boisterous in recounting the excellent boss’ many idiosyncrasies and he took it with good grace.  He had to leave for a short trip to pick up his wife who took the train in from Boston.  We got so loud at one point that some light loafered guys asked the waiter to quiet us down.  I took no small amount of pride that we could still cause a bar disruption at our age.

My Wife and the Boss' Wife Next to the Birthday Boy

After suitable liquid refreshment we moved across the street to an Italian restaurant for some really, really good food.  Two other couples joined us as we celebrated the excellent boss’ day.  Why is it that the best Italian food can always be found in the small, hole in the wall type restaurants versus a big chain?  That and many of the other great mysteries of life were explored to their logical conclusion over dinner.

Late Night at the Press Box

We were not ready to call it a night once dessert was consigned to its fate so we moved across Worcester to a bar called the Press Box.  I’d never been there before but several refugees from the First Friday event at Brew City were found there and the party continued for another hour and half.  My timely wife finally decided we had appropriately honored the birth of my boss.  We declared victory and bid our farewells.  I’m lucky to have this guy as my boss and I’m glad we were able to let him know how much we thought of him last night; and it was a hell of good time as well.

Apples and Consent

The weather the last few days have taken a decided turn towards the autumnal.  This is of course tremendous news for at least half of my household (a little more if we count Buddy).  The crisp air brings back a lot of memories of growing up in New England and yesterday I was dogged by apples.  One of the most enduring memories of family outings prior to my parents' divorce was the annual apple picking expedition which took place around this time of year.  Every year the family loaded up the car and journeyed to Vermont because my mother, a native Vermonter, opined the apples were significantly better there.  My father, a dyed in the wool New Hampshirite, would disagree but we always went to Vermont.

My sisters and I would careen around the apple orchard doing our best impressions of migrant workers on some sort of mild altering substance.  We would spend the better part of the day harvesting apples (Macintosh only please) and drinking cider.  I don’t think there’s a better way for a kid to spend a fall day (or any day for that matter) than climbing trees; even though I wasn’t supposed to.  We ended the day with several laundry baskets full of apples that took up residence in the basement and became the go to snack for the next month.  There was always a bruised bottom layer that we didn’t get to.  I remember several spring cleanings where I was charged with cleaning up the paste these unfortunate bottom dwellers had dissolved into over the winter.

The South Lawn Yesterday

I was fortunate enough yesterday to spend a good portion of the day outside on the fabulous south lawn of our facility.  We hosted the annual Retirees Picnic where employees past and present gather to reminisce.  I know I’m nowhere near being ready to fully retire based on the conversations I had yesterday. It was interesting nonetheless to talk with some of the older gents who stopped by.  I was particularly interested speaking with a guy who related that he sold newspapers at a nearby corner with his brother in 1937.   

I finished my latest Vince Flynn book yesterday as I continue my mad dash through the Mitch Rapp series with Consent to Kill.  This one was a little different as Mitch wasn’t called upon to save the world this time.  This was a much more personal book as someone close to Mitch is taken out when some Saudis try to assassinate him.  Mitch Rapp is not someone you want pissed off at you in any way shape or manner. 

Rapp, though hobbled in the aftermath of the assassination attempt, is soon strewing bodies connected to his would be assassins at various compass points around the world.  As with all of Flynn’s work the pace is almost as relentless as his hero and I fell victim to the same problem I’ve experienced with all of his work – I couldn’t put the book down after the half-way point.

Wife and Friend in Boston Yesterday

Despite the cooler temperatures my wife linked up with members of the Worcester Chapter of the Panamanian Mafia yesterday for a day trip into Boston.  She wasn’t’ sure what the objective was but they ended up spending the day just walking (and talking of course) around Boston.  The cool air must have some remarkable medicinal effects because I get chewed out regularly for not parking close enough to a store and here she was spending an entire day walking. 

She didn’t get home until well into the night and was gushing about the good times she’d enjoyed with her compatriots.  I don’t think you can underestimate the amount of pleasure a day spent hanging out with good friends provides.  It was exactly the kind of day needed and she gleefully recounted her adventures, including some fairly ribald conversations they  reveled in.  Panamanians are nothing if not bawdy.  I know it helps keep me younger than I appear (or I could just be immature – either way – I’m going with it). Some more photos from yesterday's Bostonian adventure: