Friday Freak-out

Loves the Boots Abuela Bought for Her

There I was enjoying a post First Friday dinner at my favorite local restaurant when events conspired to liven up a quiet night. Since I was alone (a seemingly constant condition) I sat at the bar at the local 99 and destroyed a healthy slice of prime rib. The place was packed as required on a Friday night dinner hour and I wasn’t paying a lot of attention at the usual gyrations and events going on surrounding me. I dutifully handed the bar tendress my credit card to pay my tab and prepared to leave. This transaction is usually very quick and efficient but for some unknown reason I didn’t get the card right back.

I eventually asked her where the bill was and she handed me back a bill with someone else’s card. I immediately called her attention to this and she grabbed the card and headed to the other end of the bar. I waited a full five minutes before she sheepishly came to apologize and reported that she had accidentally given my card to someone else who had since departed – cue the freak out. I have that card connected to so many of my automatic bill payments that I was thinking more of the pain it would be to change all that than worried about unauthorized charges.

Still Stylin

I asked her how this was possible. She said that someone at the other end of the bar had thrown up and his party left quickly and she accidentally gave them mine instead of their credit card. I then asked her, “So you gave my card to a drunk?!” She attempted to calm me down by assuring me that no the card had been given to the drunk’s harried date. This was supposed to make me feel better. It didn’t.

New Jersey Move in in Just About Complete

The manager came over, profusely apologized, and told me my meal was, of course, free. Somehow this just didn’t calm me down a great deal. She took my name and phone number and promised to track down the lady with my credit card and get it back to me. I wasn’t filled with a great deal of optimism at this point. I returned home and tried to watch a movie but I was a might distracted at this point. Buddy picked up on the agitation and was constantly checking the windows for the imminent attack I seemed to be expecting.

True to her word the manager called me a couple hours later and said she had contacted the lady with my card who was driving to the restaurant to drop it off and pick hers up (the one that was erroneously presented to me). I drove back to the 99, picked up my card and gave the manager a huge tip, truly appreciative of her efforts. Sometimes people do the right thing, now to check my credit card transaction on line to assure the drunk didn’t sneak any sales on to it. Since no one else was around – it was time for self-high five.

Today will be dedicated to doing my 2016 taxes which is always so much fun. I may need a beer or seven by the time this day is over.

Winded

The Jersey Gals

Yesterday was a fairly eventful day weather-wise as winter returned with a vengeance in the form of intense winds for most of the day. It caused some serious damage at the new facility with the plastic garage doors we are blessed with. I had to devise a contingency plan where all the vehicles had to be turned around in the garage to use a different access point. I thought that was my only headache until I returned home.

Wind Damaged Door

I’ve written before about my hilltop home and the attendant winds, on a normal day. Yesterday was anything but that. I found the wind had torn my mailbox door completely off. Strangely, and unfortunately since they were all bills, none of the mail was blown out of the mailbox. As the sun was setting I got to work at replacing it – for some reason I took affront to damage; as if nature was challenging me. I need a mailbox and having a damaged one sitting in front of my house – well now we have the whole male pride thing kicked in.

The Old Mail Box

The mailbox was secured with some rusted screws that hadn’t been touched in over a decade. I was surprised when the first one came out easily but success stopped at that point as the rest of the screws were all rusted shut. It’s at this point I went to my trump card (I just realized that old saying has new connotations) – brute force and ignorance. A hammer and a chisel soon had the offending screws ruing their decision to thwart me. Unfortunately the underlying platform for the mailbox was plastic and combined with the sub-freezing temperatures was essentially ruined by my actions.

The New One

I set out for the nearby Home Depot to locate a replacement mail box and now a mounting platform as well, as the sun was setting.  I had just located these when I received an incoming FaceTime call from my New Jersey ladies. My granddaughter seemed very interested in my new location, she’s a big fan of Home Depot. I promised to continue the call when I got home. I had a decision to make when I returned as only vestigial sunlight remained to make the repair. I had to choose between that call and making the repair with some semblance of light.

My Competition

Okay it wasn’t that hard a decision to make. The First Blog Reader will always take precedence over any non-lifesaving activity. When we did connect I found that I’m fighting a losing battle in the granddaughter fascination department with none other than that Sesame Street stalwart – Elmo. I find it mildly disconcerting that I’m losing in a competition with a stuffed creature but apparently my granddaughter prefers redheads. It still warmed my soul to spend a few distracted minutes with her even in the face of her repeated Elmo chants.

Stylin With Mom

The installation by flashlight went batter than I had any right to expect, given the still ferocious winds and piercing cold. I was so proud of myself that I texted the whole family to proclaim my prowess. With middle age you have to claim your sparse victories when they come. The winds had one last surprise for me this morning as I found the bucket which had been filled with Buddy’s donations for the entire week had been blown two houses down. The bag containing the actual donations was redistributed back over the constitutional grounds. On the upside – everything I had to police up (again) was frozen solid.

That's Right

Today will be the last day I present the morale pictures at the bottom of the blog. I was going to end it last week but I received a message from Soxfather’s Sister demanding that I do so. She’s suffering under the delusion that she had some sort of editorial role on Frail Deeds or that I wouldn’t take the exact opposite course she recommended. I think I’ve made the point that despite who may temporarily reside at 1600 Pennsylvania it’s still a beautiful world and a great time to be alive. I aimed it directly at people like Soxfather’s Sister who feels that life has been irreparably compromised because we have an idiot in the White House. News Flash: it isn’t the first time that occurred. I really enjoyed getting these pictures every day and was surprised how many of the places depicted I’d been blessed with seeing in person, the rest await. Again, I’m so lucky.

Today’s Soxfather’s Sister’s morale photo injection for the last time:

Seclusion Time

Yesterday, for the first time since my wife departed, I truly felt isolated. This, despite Buddy’s sterling efforts in his Wonder Pooch personae in the Man cave last night. This year the feeling was delayed through the visit of the ex-California contingent and the dedicated efforts of Great Aunt and Soxfather. Regardless I found myself contemplating the lack of human contact last night more so than usual. I also found it hard to countenance that it is already March which means I’m inside a month until she returns to add the missing spice.

Buddy in Man Cave

Trying to Steal my Seat

Down in the Garden State those ex-Californians were having their first bout with the joys of home ownership with an expensive plumber visit. Their house was completely remodeled prior to their purchase and apparently the contractors deposited some heavy duty cleaning towels into the plumbing which produced the predictable result of clogging everything up.

I finally got around to watching Moonlight. I’d heard rumors that this was a good movie. It certainly was as it paints a searing picture of the life of a young gay black child whose devastating home environment causes him to build emotional walls around himself. The story is told in three phases; each dealing with a different age of the character, young child, teenager and adult. During the first two episodes there are caring people who throw him a lifeline but in each case that lifeline is compromised. It’s a very raw movie, beautifully shot with an unflinching look at overcoming life’s challenges. By the end I found myself praying Chirron would find the elusive human connection he’d been denied his entire life.

I also finished my latest book in the Marc Alan Edelheit series The Tiger’s Fate. I’m also a little PO’ed because this is the last published book in the series and Edelheit hangs the reader seriously out to dry with a huge cliffhanging moment. The first 30% of the book is spent on background but the rest is the close legion combat Edelheit excels at. Stiger’s legion and dwarf allies are facing off against an invading army of orcs which provides some brutal battle scenes. I once again sprinted through this read because Edelheit is so good at the battle scenes. I hope he’s hard at work on the next book in the series because I’m already frustrated at having to wait to find out what happens next. I guess it was a very good book.

Today’s Soxfather’s Sister’s morale photo injection:

Edged by a Nose

Highlight Purveyor

I have been more than generously “blessed” when it comes to the proboscis area. Not in terms of aesthetic beauty but in sheer area. My wife didn’t seem to mind so I‘ve accepted my fate in life. As I’ve aged it’s received more and more attention, mainly from the dermatologist as I’ve had it cut a couple times for the whole pesky cancer thing. A few years ago a small blood vessel burst near the tip of my nose. When I started to notice it in pictures I asked the dermatologist who confirmed it was a normal part of aging and nothing to worry about.

Fun with Filter Again

My wife however who lives firmly in the “no stone doesn’t want to be turned over” zone decided it needed to be fixed. She colluded with the Neighborhood Mafioso who knew about a nurse practitioner with a small skin care practice in a nearby town. She signed me up for an appointment which happened last night. It was very matter of fact. The nurse laid me down on a heated bed, threw a heavy towel over my chest, smeared some pain deadening cream on my nose and left me alone to listen to yoga music for twenty minutes. At least I think it was twenty minutes since I dozed off more than a couple times. She then came back, pronounced me ready and got to work. She was using a machine that produced tightly focused sound waves to “ablate” (whatever the hell that means) the broken blood vessels which would then be absorbed into the skin. She warned me it was still going to sting a little and she was true to her word.

Nose Before

After

I might have jumped a little if it wasn’t for the whole male pride thing. Once she took care of the aforementioned vessel she went to work on a bunch on either side of my nose which was a lot of fun. Imagine a semi-sharp needle probing for three seconds at a time repeatedly to get an idea. It was all over in less than ten minutes and she showed me a mirror to view that all of the offending vessels were history. She did warn me that the ablated blood would eventually surface on the nose in the form of a scab, so I’ve got that to look forward to but so far – nothing.  I can now proudly proclaim I’ve had cosmetic surgery. My wife is dangerous.

Practicing her Jumps

The highlight of my day, of course, didn’t involve this little episode but my video call with my granddaughter. She was her usual industrious self, moving around the greatly expanded play area the new house provides. She get a little frustrated because it’s obvious she wants to communicate more extensively then her current vocabulary allows which just makes her even more charming. Who thought that was even possible! Wingman is learning the joys of home ownership trying to track down a leak that produced a small lake in the basement. I warned him he would become good friends with his local Home Depot. I think he loves the idea of it.

After last night’s procedure and before my nose blossomed into a scab I went to the movies again and saw Get Out. This is such a good movie! It expertly weaves a horror story into racial issues and laces it with a fair amount of humor. I know that sounds preposterous but this movie is something new and I never saw that coming. It’s also a perfectly named movie as the audience spends almost the entire time yelling the title in their head to the lead character. The story involved a well off white girl bringing her black boyfriend home for a weekend in the country. The boyfriend’s friend who functions as a one man Greek chorus repeatedly warns him about the danger he’s wandering into, in hilarious fashion. The tension builds as more and more clues are laid for the poor guy. This is just such a great ride and the benighted TSA finally gets some love thrown its way. Go see this movie as long as you don’t mind open cranial surgery in the basement or the odd death by croquet ball; nearly a perfect movie. If you’re lucky enough, as I was, half the audience will be African-American which truly enhanced the experience.

Today’s Soxfather’s Sister’s morale photo injection: