Sick Housed

A kind of downer day yesterday and not only due to the abject humiliation of being pounded into the earth by the ABFA, a.k.a. my favorite daughter in law, in fantasy football.  My wife was down for the count with a serious cold for the entire day which revealed just how much she’s responsible for my daily dose of happiness.  I’m used to coming home and having her usual tidal wave of conversation wash over me regaling me with the mundane yet cherished moments of her day. 

I’ve written before about what a career in the Army does to the old empathy gene.  Being sick or injured in the infantry was always viewed as a sign of weakness and therefore not to be acknowledged or curried.  This always leads to confrontations with my wife’s more reasonable and humane approach to health care.  She’s never understood that pain was just weakness leaving the body (go figure).  I’m trying to do better and be supportive instead of scoffing at frailty; let’s call it a work in progress.

I did pretty well yesterday. I made an unplanned trip to the grocery store to secure some needed sweetener for her tea (baby steps) which I even attempted to make.  The fact that she insisted on making the next cup herself could be seen as either an indictment on my tea making career or that she was simply feeling better. I tried to make her as comfortable as possible and even Buddy pitched in with an extended attempt at conversation which met with mixed results.

By the end of the evening she’d gotten out of bed and joined us in the family room so she could view the final moments of our fantasy football destruction and offer her cogent observations of my failings in player selection (another sign of getting better).  While we were down there she received probably the best medicine of all, a phone conversation with our daughter who’s coming us this weekend along with Wing Man.

We’ll be celebrating her recent birthday and there will be a mini gathering of the clan to mark the day on Saturday.  This will prevent me from going to my college homecoming – something that was pointed out to me by two college buddies this morning.  Since the son and ABFA as well as my sister, all graduates of my alma mater, are coming I believe we can qualify for adjunct celebration status.  I do know adult beverages will be addressed as part of the process which a vital part of any homecoming.  

Piper Due

Yesterday could not have been a more perfect example of a crisp, beautiful New England autumn day.  It’s the kind of day that should be spent completely outside savoring what has been wrought on our behalf.   There’s only one problem – yesterday was also Sunday which meant the NFL Red Zone and fantasy football.  So Couch Potato Position #1 it was.

Finished Off the Wall Project Yesterday with Second Coat

My wife was paying dearly yesterday for venturing out into the rain on Saturday and her exertions on the dance floor.  Her cold returned with a vengeance.  Any time this lady chooses to miss church on Sunday it’s a sit up and take notice event.  She was making noises about blaming me for “forcing” her to go out to dance on Saturday; like anything short of the bubonic plague would have kept her from dancing when an opportunity presents itself.  Anybody who knows her will know of what I speak.

Buddy Has His Own Preferences for Watching Football

Since she was under the weather I was charged with the grocery store run and I finally got around to the lawn which October was not being cooperative about.  The heavy rain over the past few days caused a growth spurt and that trapped all the leaves that were falling.  As I mentioned earlier although the yard is surrounded by trees the leaves usually end up somewhere else thanks to the steady winds that pick up around this time of year.  That is except when the grass is long enough to trap the leaves and then they’re weighed down by rain.

Front Yard Yesterday

I had a very narrow time period between chores and the kickoff of the Red Zone to get the lawn done.  Problem number 1 is the sheer size of the lawn which does not lend itself for timely maintenance; even with a motivated lawn tractor.  Problem 2 were the leaves which had to be picked up but have a tendency to clog the mower quickly.  It’s funny how creative I can get when I try to avoid doing extra work (like picking up the leaves before mowing).  I pulled out the weekly garbage bin and emptied the mower bags every second time I passed by.  In semi-short order the front yard was pristine again and the leaves consigned to their fate in the backyard wood line.  That left the massive back yard and a rapidly approaching kickoff time.  Is it wrong to leave skid marks by going too fast on a lawn tractor?  This question and a couple others were answered as I finished the lawn in record time and was safely ensconced in proper couch potato position two minutes before kickoff.  The day was spectacular enough to actually regret having to go inside.

The "Hasty" Backyard

In earlier years I scoffed at my son and daughter’s fascination with fantasy football but I have to admit they’ve converted me; if for no other reason than I now have a companion to watch football with.  My wife (fairly competitive person that she is) now sets up next to me each Sunday to monitor how “our” team is doing and to bemoan “my” personnel decisions.  I found her set up in Couch Potato position #2 with her I-pad loged into our fanasty football league scoreboard so she could monitor our progress.  We were coming off our stunning defeat of the previously undefeated Keene Friend and facing off against the winless ABFA.  So of course we spent the day getting hammered as her team finally lived up to its potential.  I helped out by benching what would have been my best player (it’s how I roll).  We each have one player left tonight and as long as Alfred Morris can score a half dozen touchdowns against the league’s best defense I should be all set.  Somehow losing to the ABFA is a little easier.

My Wife Set Up Yesterday Monitoring The League

We ended the night by watching the Patriots storm back to life as a week of questioning their virility had the predicted effect.  They came out and stomped on a previously undefeated Cincinnati team that showed a serious lack of character.  Brady was back being decisive and they committed to the run.  Dare I say they looked like a vintage Patriots team.  The proof will be next week in Buffalo as to whether they truly turned a corner or this was an aberration; promising though.

Welcome back Thomas

Graduating Travels

Front Yard Yesterday

The wife is battling the first of her colds which seem to come every year as her tropical constitution is confronted with the changing autumn temperatures.  The only problem this time with her affliction is that she had scheduled a dance date for the evening.  Anybody who knows her realizes we were looking at a miracle cure level motivation to feel better.  She emptied the medicine cabinet late on Friday night to find out if we had any unexpired cold medicine from last year’s autumnal ritual.  She always reacts strongly to medication and was down for the count yesterday morning which left me in a completely unsupervised state.

The Product of my Wife's Raid

The trees are coloring up and falling very fast this year. We had a healthy covering on the front yard where my usual method of waiting for the hilltop winds to move them out was thwarted by the rain.  There was a steady drizzle so I was confined indoors – see earlier comments on my feelings about moist outdoor work.  Since I was without my normal task master I decided to attack a crack in the plaster in the family room.  I look up and see it from Couch Potato Position #1 and it bugs me. 

Back Yard YEsterday

I should lead this discussion off by stating I have almost no latent handyman skill outside of curiosity and a lifelong addiction to This Old House. I started out scouring the crack to prepare it for repair but when I got to the top of the crack a huge hunk of plaster separated from the wall and showered my assistant Buddy the Wonder Pooch.  My heart lurched a little bit because my wife was going to awake at some point and see this huge hole in the wall in the middle of her family room (it becomes hers whenever I pull some bone head move like this).

Whoops!

Channeling my inner Norm, I applied the nine year old joint compound I found in the basement and it didn’t turn out too badly.  By the time my supervisor arrived on the scene it just needed some paint and she was mildly impressed.  This section of wall is directly below our bedroom and she was wondering what all the scraping was about.  I’m so glad she slept in yesterday and the nine year old paint I found still matched.  One more coat today and I declare victory.

Plastered

First Coat of Paint

My other indoor project yesterday involved replacing a smoke detector; sounds easy right?  Remember who you’re dealing with here.  When the earlier smoke detector met its prolonged fate (these things die hard) I couldn’t find an exact replica so I’d be installing one that needed to be rewired.  Since my wife was now on her feet she assisted by telling me when I hit the right circuit breaker to kill the power to the room I’d be working in – see not a complete idiot (or so I thought).  I was semi-proud of myself hooking the thing up (color coding helps so much).   When I attached the last wire though the thing ominously lit up.  I had been working with live wires the entire time!  I think this was God telling me not to get too cocky.

Cranston Party

My sister had sprung a graduation celebration for my namesake nephew right on top of the dance date so we were traveling to Rhode Island before dancing.  I’m so proud of this young man who hated school his entire life but found his niche in life when he discovered he loved repairing cars.  He recently graduated from technical school (hence the celebration) and immediately started work at his local Chevy dealership where he is thriving.  He’s always been a very hard worker and I couldn’t be prouder of him.  All this being said there was no way I was going to miss the party.  We made our way through the rapidly increasing rain to Cranston and my sister’s house.  Although there was failed experiment involving an inherited card table, the house was its usual bounty of good feelings and laughter.  I even got into the house without a crotch strike from my sister’s dog (a rarity). 

My Unfocused Namesake and His Mom

I’ve written before about how much fun I derive just sitting around a table with my sister and her remarkable in laws – just great people.  When her sister in law arrived fashionably late she immediately attacked me for my characterizations of Rhode Islanders in general and her specifically on this blog. I stand by all of those characterizations, assisted by her brother, my sister’s husband.  I am somewhat terrified to upset her though because of her arcane ability to ruin Red Sox seasons.  I think taking photos of her robs her of some of that ability so I made sure to snap one of her before leaving.

Ms. Photogenic Herself

I didn’t want to leave after so short a time with these awesome people but dancing at Maxwell Silverman’s beckoned and my wife would not be denied.  The ride back up to Worcester was eventful as the rain had increased to deluge levels and I learned my car has a hydroplaning warning light (good to know).  We arrived safely in time to greet another couple from the Panamanian Mafia.  We had a very self-important, rotund waiter who made up for his lack of tact with a complete absence of timeliness.  His name was, of course, Pierre.  He turned out to be a fun guy on the rare occasion he did stop by but luckily the bar was close enough for refills when Pierre went missing.

The Maxwell Table

We had our usual fantastic time at Maxwell’s with the middle aged crowd cutting the rug.  There was some sort of birthday party in an adjacent room filled almost exclusively with blonds.  They had some six or seven year old gals that absolutely loved the dance floor.  While this cut down on some of my more exotic dance moves (that was added for humor – don’t have any) it felt almost like a wedding reception.  The dancing was exactly what my wife needed to cure her of the autumnal woes.  We made our way home in the early morning hours tired, but fairly certain we’d wrung a good day out a dreary, rainy period.

A Lucky Guy Last Night

Considering this Was My Date!

  

Watchful

Low key day yesterday although a Friday can never be underestimated; see yesterday’s post for an in depth explanation.  There were only two of us at First Friday since my excellent boss took the end of the week off.  The operations manager and I managed to keep the tradition alive although he had to depart fairly early for a semi-hot date.  I was charged with hanging around in case some other employees showed up since I’d made a big deal about it earlier in the day (go figure).  I spent the last half hour and beer just people watching out the large window.

View From my Perch

Shrewsbury Street is one of the main thoroughfares of Worcester and it was interesting to watch the Worcesterites dashing towards their Friday afternoon destinations, usually with cell phone in hand whether they were walking or driving.  People watching is one of my favorite pastimes, always has been.  It used to get me in trouble in my younger days because people thought I was staring at them (granted a lot of them were of the female persuasion).  But’s it’s always been more than that, I think people are fascinating and the endless variety offered is astounding.  Everybody has a story.

There was a small American flag flying atop a post outside of my people watching perch which caused some reflection as well.  The flag meant so much to me over the years when I lived or served in other countries.  I still take a sneaky little bit of pride and affection whenever I see an American flag flying. I thought how lucky I was to live in a place where freedom allows the breadth of the human spirit to be explored.  Unaccompanied consumption of Coors Lite can lead to maudlin introspection.

I then sought out the sure cure for loneliness, the spousal unit.  My wife can fill up a room with energy which belies her small stature.  She was dressed to the nines when I arrived home having blown off her yoga class since she was in a deep texting session with the PanaGals. She was feeling a little under the weather (autumnal allergies) which she felt might prevent her from tonight’s planned dancing.  This led to a deluge of texts flying between here and Panama where this decision and a deluge of other subjects were debated and opined upon.  She was laughing so hard at some of the texts that I knew they’d wandered into ribald territory (it’s how they roll).

Wife and I at Zorbas Last Night

I invariably become the target of the PanaGals who propose courses of action that my wife takes an immense amount of humor and perverse interest in.  The texting continued to Zorba’s where the ladies of Zorba’s were at the top of their game.  I finally had to seize control of my wife’s cell phone (something we always threaten “the kids” with) in order to have a conversation with her.  She really is my favorite person to watch. 

Friday, Need I Say More

Friday’s got a lot going for it.  Moving beyond this huge understatement let me build my case.  Friday is perfectly positioned to honor the weekend and all that entails.  For most people (except the Keene Friend of course), it heralds the end of the work week for which I can say without fear of contradiction, is where we find the most intrinsic value of the day.  It’s also the day that new movies premiere, do I have to tell you how important that is to certain movie fanatics (didn’t think so).  It is for these reasons and the myriad others that I failed to mention that Friday is a day that should be properly honored.  This has coalesced into the celebration each week to mark the First Friday of the week.  So this means there's also a cardiovascular benefit since these celebrations always involve a significant amount of twelve-house curls!  The only thing wrong with Friday is that there isn’t a second Friday each week to celebrate.

12 Ounce Curls

My namesake nephew messaged me that I had to see one of the new movies, Annabelle, which is a prequel to The Conjuring about a haunted doll.  When I mentioned this to my wife last night I was met with a howl of laughter.  I don’t think she’s ever seen a horror movie.  This leads to conundrum because my regular go to guys for horror movies, son and Keene Friend) are geographically unavailable.  I love horror movies but since I immerse myself in whatever movie I’m watching, this can lead to problems if I go see them alone.  No one wants to see a nearly sixty year old guy watching a movie through his fingers.  The old “it’s just a movie” mantra just doesn’t work as well anymore and The Conjuring scared the bejesus out of me.  I’ll have to discuss this with the nephew tomorrow at his graduation party and see if I can get a pass.

Annabelle Will Have to Wait for Companionship

I finished off the next Vince Flynn book, Pursuit of Honor, which is really the second half of the previous book and finishes off the story of Mitch Rapp hunting down the terrorists who attacked Washington.  There was significantly less action in this one but it still rocked right along as Mitch cleaned up a lot of the loose ends dangling around Washington in the wake of the attacks.  After a huge build up the ending confrontation was kind of strangely hurried through but just desserts were served in bloody fashion.

It’s kind of melancholy because this is the next to last Rapp book that Flynn published before his death at a young age.  I’ve already started the last one which I’m trying to savor but that’s always a problem with Mr. Rapp on the scene since he is the Typhoid Mary of speed reading.  At least I have the First Friday of the Week to fall back on to lift my spirits (and we’re back!).

As Usual

It’s always interesting to see the political squirrels scurrying around Washington managing ”news” in the wake of a presidential mistake.  President Obama made a huge gaffe on Sunday when he said the threat of ISIS was underestimated.  In true Obama/community activist fashion he shifted the blame to his national intelligence team despite reams of evidence to the contrary.  Where have you gone Harry Truman?!!

General(R) Clapper, Director National Intelligence and His Boss
One of These Two Has Some Personal Honor - Your Guess

The political handlers knew they needed a sacrificial lamb to distract the news hounds from a ripe and inviting target.  Enter Julie Pierson, now ex-head of the Secret Service.  I don’t know her at all but the Secret Service guys I’ve worked with in the past were always supremely professional, if a bit paranoid (and rightfully so).  It is obvious the Secret Service has had its problems recently, highlighted by the practice run of the guy into the White House itself.

HAppier Times in Oval Office for Pierson

That alone should have been enough for Obama to quietly remove Pierson.  Instead we’ve been treated to a week-long dog and pony show where Pierson was dragged in front of Congress where Obama supporters had their knives out.  Later in the week an internal Secret Service investigation of the armed felon in the elevator with the president a couple weeks ago was leaked to the press to further bolster the feeding frenzy the press was engaged in.  This was no accident and carefully timed.

Manipulating the news to rescue a bumbling president or other public figure has been employed by both parties although the press seems desperate to assist this president a lot more than his predecessor.  The obvious disengagement of Obama with foreign policy in general and the national security apparatus specifically is abundantly clear to anyone unbiased enough to look.  It’s sad that a proud organization and a dedicated (I’m guessing here) public servant had to be dragged through the mud for political expediency.  This was a hatchet job that would have made Lizzy Borden proud.

Equalized Rapping

I cannot believe its October although the rapidly changing trees give lie to that disbelief.  I hope they can hang on for another week for our annual Columbus Day leaf peeping expedition through Western Massachusetts and Vermont.  After one of the driest Septembers on record, October got off to a very wet start and of course I had to be out there, through my own procrastination.  

I was out on the back deck this morning in the pouring rain, grilling steaks for my lunch.  Buddy was smart enough to stay inside even with the dead animal flesh available.  He remained beside my wife nodding sagely while she offered a running commentary which centered around reminding of her recommendation I do this last night when it was September dry.

One of the things I disliked most about life in the infantry was being wet.  Since I spent the first three years of my infantry life in Panama you can understand my aversion.  While we would jollily say, “If it isn’t raining, it’s not training!” – no one ever really believed that; it was more of a coping mechanism for being wet, dirty, tired, and just generally miserable.  Although I hated living in the jungle with the soaking tropical rains (especially the Atlantic side) of Panama, this paled in comparison to the much colder rain of the other environments that followed.  The back woods of Tennessee particularly sucked.  Granted it didn’t rain much in the Middle East but there were all these Arabs around sizing up my neck (but I digress).   This was one of the aspects of civilian life that I fully embraced – I didn’t have to stand out in the rain for hours on end.  I could actually take the sane route of staying indoors.  Except, of course, for days, like today, when I ignore the wise advice of the spousal unit.

She and I went to see The Equalizer last night for date night.  I was interested to see how they would transform Denzel Washington into a smartly dressed English ex-spy a la the 1980s TV show.  Since it is Washington he more than made this part his own.  He plays an insomniac ex-spy leading a mundane life working at a Boston area Home Depot like store.  In one of his late night sojourns at a local diner he befriends a young Russian hooker who eventually requires his assistance.

The first part of the movie is almost too slow but by the end you realize it was needed to set up the second half action.  Washington is perfect for this part as a lethal killing machine who starts mowing down the evil doers with a deadpan expression which eloquently states – “how could you be this stupid?”  Washington captures the humanity behind the violence which makes his character very compelling.  The climatic confrontation may cause you some nervous discomfort the next time you visit a Home Depot, so prepare yourself; great flick.

I also finished my latest flash reading experience with a Vince Flynn book, Extreme Measures.  For the first time I was disappointed with a Flynn book featuring his super-agent killing machine Mitch Rapp (hmmm – hadn’t thought of this before but Washington would be a great Rapp).  My disappointment wasn’t with Flynn’s writing or the action which were up to his usual, lofty standards.  My issue is the book ends in the middle of the story without the usual bloody Rapp coup de-grace of the bad guys.

Flynn is no fan of Washington politics and thoroughly skewers the progressive need for political correctness that hampers Rapp’s war on terror.  He’s prevented from intercepting vital intelligence which leads to a devastating attack and then the book ends. Luckily the trusty Kindle came to my rescue and I was reading the next book in the series less than thirty seconds later, but still, dirty pool.