hmmm. i wonder...

Brought the computer in to Best Buy and had them remove everything that might be slowing it down. 53 toolbars less on it now (must be a new toolbar every time the kids start a new game) along with whatever else they took off. Just a quick test to see if it'll let me publish a post on my blog from it yet...

Dirty Thief

Dammit! Someone must have broke in!

Crazy thing is it looks like the only thing they took was every blog post I'd put on here so far this year.

Worse than that is they left all this extra dust behind. I don't know if they're offering what they feel is equal exchange of value for my blog updates or if it's being used to cover their tracks... ;)


(Blogger hasn't been letting me post. Testing it out before I get long winded.)

We Now Return to Our Regular Programming

Well, that concludes my series of "Special Edition - Limited Time Only" blog updates.

I sure hope you enjoyed them as I was really pleased with myself for all of the clever things I came up with!

Alas...It would seem that by not having left any permanent updates on here for the last few months, some outside source has taken the liberty of going through and putting a bunch of links into my previous blog updates.

As you and I both know, I don't bother with links. (Loose translation - I haven't asked the kids how to do this yet.) Besides, I have no problem with shamelessly promoting another's blog (Sheila, Connie, Erin, etc.) and then making you go find them the hard way. :)

On a high note, I've finally gotten around to getting a computer at home so there's more time for me to get on. (I'd left UPS so they might frown upon me being on one of their computers doing a blog update at 2am like I used to.) That being said, there's a good chance that there may be some pictures being added.

On a side note: the over $200 digital camera I'd mentioned buying earlier this year has been lost already thank you kindly David.

On a low note, the Internet cable is once again strung from the pole near my patio and stretched all the way to the house. This summer I'd untangled 4 previous cable companies cables and wrapped them up on bike hooks I'd stuck into the post so I was hoping to avoid having yet another one up there. Alas... as I live on a rock, I also tilled up 3 other cables that were buried in shallow fashion, so we agreed this was the best option.


So...

Doodles, I do have a few things I'd like to put on here about the neighbor. In fact, I keep thinking I should come up with a nice little poem about him. I think it might be due to how nicely I could pair "bludgeon" with "curmudgeon".

I'll be sure to update you on the most recent series of events even though they are a bit old now. Things have been peaceful between us for the last month or so. (He's off somewhere warm with Whatever Her Name Is and their stupid little dog.)

Wherever that may be, I kind of hope his camper blows up. ;)

To everyone else, Merry Christmas!

Something Wicked This Way Comes?

With the temperature noticeably dropping and the Sumac and Maples already changing color, I find myself thinking about winter.

Not the upcoming winter, but winters from my childhood. (Although I really do need to get one of my snow blowers home from Dad's place so I have one here this year. If the precipitation continues throughout the winter at the same rate we've been getting it, when the snow melts in the spring I'll have driftwood coming up to my place for my fire pit use!)

When we were small, before we were allowed to go play on the snow hills we were so bundled up it was difficult to move. We'd put on those long socks that mom had for us by pulling them up to our chins, then we'd apply the layer of long undies, followed by our winter weather clothes, our snowmobile suits, our 80lb boots, and the gloves, scarves, and face masks over that.

Then we'd take our blue sleds (because they went farther than the long red ones) and race and/or attempt to surf down the hills, and use them as shields during snowball fights - or for a quick makeshift roof to the snow forts.

And then, when our 50 lbs of clothes had sponged up about 10 times their weight in melted snow (and the chin-high socks had somehow completely worked down the entire lengths of our bodies to become an uncomfortable wadded up mass between our toes and the front of our insanely heavy boots) we'd go in the basement door and stand there for 15 minutes while our eyes recovered from snow-blindness.

Then we'd pull off our wet snowsuits and ball up little snowballs from the snow still on our clothing and set those on top of the wood burning heater we had and watch them sizzle and hiss and completely evaporate in a matter of seconds while we enjoyed the warmth provided by the fire within.

And we were very fortunate children, for The Fairy of Soggy Winter Clothing would stop by and wave her magic wand and our clothes would usually be clean and dry and ready for us by the next time we were ready to get them dirty.

And even though I still love the thrill of hopping on a snow tube and flying face first down a snow covered hill toward a tree trunk... or a fence line...or the jump conveniently prepared for us by the thoughtful young men who installed ditches on County Road 9 for our winter flying pleasure, I admit that I'm in no real hurry for Winter to show up.

To be, or not to be...nice.

I admit to being slightly disappointed that nobody violently waved their hand to get my attention and then enthusiastically jumped up and requested that I tell them the updated story about The Neighbor. I suspect that you either knew I was going to tell it anyway, or you were worried that I'd use more naughty language than usual in my post.

Either way you'd be right.

So, if you are offended by 'effenheimers', or the Foxtrot part of Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (aka wtf!), please bypass this particular blog update. :)

So then, here we go...

I'm one of those people that was raised by parents who said, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

I find this to be pretty solid advice, and have recently been passing the same wisdom down to my own children. (I was tired of hearing them call each other names and told them I'd be feeding them soap if they didn't stop. Of course, they knew I wouldn't... but they thought they found a way to outsmart me until they found out that I also speak the ancient and long lost language of "Pig Latin". So, instead of calling each other "retard" and "moron", they now call each other "re-re" and "mor-mor". I can't help but to find this funny.)

All that being said, I consider myself to be a pretty nice guy.
I like to do nice things for other people. I'm just like that.

However, there's always people out there who just rub you the wrong way. People that just give you a not-so-good gut feeling, or that you somehow instinctively avoid.

The Neighbor is one of Those People. (To me, at least.)

His name is Alvin. (I think.) I just call him Al...which he apparently hears as Alpha Male.

He has a wife and a dog.

I never remember his wife's name as she's one of those nondescript people who just blend in and you don't really notice unless they're with someone you recognize...or with their stupid little dog.

I don't suppose she much cares for me anymore than he does, because one day I got home from a 13 hour work day at the same time she let Stupid Little Dog out the back door of their place. (Our houses are arranged in such a way that their back door is visible from my front door.) As I was walking up to my house, Stupid Little Dog ran over and snarled at me with her little fangs all barred and menacing and giving off as much loathing hatred as one might get from a stupid little dog.

Well, instead of opening the door the rest of the way and calling the mutt back over to their yard, Whatever Her Name Is stealthily backed into her place without closing the door to alert me to her presence - and there she watched my reaction to this scenario.

I wasn't in the mood. I squared off, bent toward the dog a bit, and looked straight at the snarling little bitch (which dogs take as a sign of aggression) and said (speaking loudly enough for Whatever Her Name Is to hear) "Just try it you ugly little mutt. I will soooo fucking kick you..." Then I stood up straight, took a couple steps toward the dog to send it scampering away, shot Whatever Her Name Is a glance that let her know that I not only knew she was there but that I also wasn't much impressed by her, and then I turned and entered my house.

Beer with me. (Because it's hot and humid and I could really go for a cold one right now.) This all ties in with the events which took place on Friday, the last.

OK then. Details have been satisfactorily placed. Let us now proceed with the story.

Last Friday I arrived home from work and decided to attack the gardening project. I had a steak thawed out so, after checking to be sure the slightest breeze was blowing into my face as I faced The Neighbor's house, I lit a fire in the fire pit near where I was swinging my pickax.

I suspected The Neighbor would be his normal nosy self and would be sure to check that I wasn't burning anything "green", so I used a couple logs. I figured this would be acceptable to both parties as The Neighbor had, earlier this very month, told me that I could have the firewood if I cut down the huge Ash tree in his back yard. (Like I have a shortage of wood or something. He's just too cheap to pay to have it done - but wise enough to not attempt it himself.) I also made sure the fire pit had the cover in place so that he might be even more satisfied.

He wasn't.

At least I saw him coming this time. His ninja skills are either fading or my Spider Sense tingled more than the last two times he approached. (If "Spider Sense" is a trademark of Spider-Man, Marvel Comics, or any other entity...please accept my apology and insert "fucktard detector" in that spot.)

At this point I should maybe mention that he was the former head of security at the local casino and that he's probably used to people my age jumping at his every whim. (I know other things he's not aware of my knowing...like the back part of his shed isn't even on his property, and his daughter has fake breasts.)

So, upon noticing that his approach wasn't going to be undetected, he blustered out, "I'm really starting to think you're intentionally trying to piss me off!!!"

Since I already knew why he was foaming around the mouth, I calmly stated, "Al, I've done some checking. Fire pits are allowed in town, especially when they're covered and used for cooking."

He exclaimed, "There's city ordinances. I've called the cops!"

I said, "OK. When they get here, if they tell me to put it out I will happily do so. Until then, I'm going to let it burn so I can grill on it."

That pissed him off even further. Apparently he thought I have a criminal past and my seeming lack of interest about his life is the result of my own desire to go unnoticed.

So the conversation went back and forth, with him doing his best to hold onto his self-appointed Alpha Male status by demanding that I give in to his wishes. I (still calmly, at this point) told him that I'm sorry that he doesn't like the smell of wood smoke, but "The smoke isn't blowing toward your house and I'm going to be grilling here in a little bit."

He asked, "Why can't you use the other fire pit so the smoke blows toward his house?" (meaning the only other neighbor on the street) At this point I was done listening to his snivelling, for if the smoke was bad enough to bother him, why on earth would he want it going to our other neighbor's place?

I said, "Because I'm not working over there and I wouldn't be over there to supervise it!"

He shouted, "How would you like it if I had a fire going and the smoke was going into your house?!"

I paused in my work so as to look directly into his eyes. "I guess I'd have the common sense to close my windows."

After a quick survey of my house, where he was disappointed to discover that my windows were indeed closed... and my doors as well...he snarled, "I don't have to put up with this! I'm going to get the other neighbors together and we're going to drive you out!!!" (Is it werewolves, vampires, mad scientists, or warlocks they do that to? Whatever. If any of them need a pitchfork to carry, I have a couple they can use. I even have enough yard tools for the neighbor that The Neighbor would like me to send smoke toward to use - if that particular neighbor should care to participate in my beheading, or drive out, or whatever the assembled lynch mob plans for me.) "I've lived here for 30 years!", the neighbor stated with satisfaction. (Like we were both Union employees and he had higher seniority or something.)

I thought, "Oh? Well, good! You've been here long enough for the cops to know you're an asshole! Shoot, I've only been here for 4 years and I pretty much figured it out right away!"

I didn't say that. I just went back to my digging and said, "Go home, Al."

He yelled, "I'll come up here with a fire hose and..."

"Piss off, Al."

"FUCK YOU!"

"Fuck you, Al."

"How long does it take to grill on your fire pit?"

"Maybe five minutes."

"Then why has it been going for the last three hours?!" (I'd probably been home for half an hour at this point.) "When I looked up here a bit ago, the flames were shooting up to here!" (He indicated a spot about chest high.)

"Because I'm not making a damn hot dog or something I'm sticking directly in flames! There's two logs on the fire. When they've burned enough to where they're ready to cook on, I'll do so!"

"I don't care what you're burning!" (Oh? Then why are you here?) "Why can't you just load the branches up and haul them out? You back that trailer up here about 50 times a week!"

Now here I have to admit that I was a bit pleased he's noticed my trailer backing skills. I realize it's only because he's so concerned that something might happen to his precious camper, but it still makes me happy. (even though the number is exaggerated by about 47 to 49)

I guess he wasn't listening to the part about me using logs. Oh well. I said, "Because I can't grill in the trailer!"

He said a couple other things I don't recall right off hand because they weren't worth hearing at the time he said it, so I finally said, "Get off my property, Al."

He sputtered, "This is a public road! I can be anywhere on here and..."

I'd looked up from my work at the first sentence.
Damn. He was indeed on the road. He didn't need to finish his sentence because he was right.

I said, "Oh. And so you are. Well...stand there then. I don't care."

This, of course, sent him homeward. There was no way in hell he was about to do something I told him to do. (It didn't shut him up, but at least he was moving the right direction.) He paused, made a sweeping arm gesture toward the end of my little dead-end street and said, "Maybe you should consider cleaning your area up! Look at this! It's a public road and you've got a lawnmower, a tiller, a..."

I said, "Right. Because there's just soooo much drive through traffic!" (For those of you who haven't been following along, my street is just an alleyway that at some point The Fucktard, um...Neighbor, had somehow gotten the city to pave and call a street. There's no turn around at the end of it, and I own both of the properties at the end so there's no reason for anyone not coming to my place to even drive up.)

"That doesn't matter! It's still a public street!"

I, more than anyone, am aware of this. This is why it annoys me to have to weed the cracks and leaf blower all the dirt down it so I can load it up and haul it out a couple times a year. I somehow figure this should maybe be the cities responsibility. So I just gave him the silent treatment on that one.

I guess he wasn't done yet, for as he got to the area that divides our property he yelled back, "You better know where this property ends!"

I said, "You're the one that pulled out the markers! If you want to know where it is, you can pay to have them put back!"

"I KNOW WHERE IT IS!!!", he blustered.

I mumbled, "Good. Keep your fucking dog off my property while you're at it."

Oops. He heard me. I suppose my voice does carry a little on a windless day when smoke wouldn't be blowing...

He blew up. "YOU BETTER NEVER TOUCH THAT DOG!"

"I never have touched your dog."

"YOU BETTER NEVER TOUCH THAT DOG OR IT'LL BE THE LAST DOG YOU EVER TOUCH!!!"

That sounded a bit like a threat to me. The ironic part is, during the entire conversation up to this point, I had felt like he was trying to get me to slip and make some kind of a threat toward him!

I responded, "Like I said...I've never touched your dog. But I'm telling you right now that if that stupid little mutt ever does actually bite me, I'll kick the little fuck across the gawd-damned street!"

Then he went into some kind of maniacal, nonsensical babbling that I couldn't understand, which was just as good as not saying anything at all. I suppose I could have even pretended it was an animal making the noise, but then I would have felt obligated to track the thing down and put it out of misery.

So, not to be any more of an ass myself, I went in and brought out my steak and grilled it up. I put out the fire and sat there and enjoyed the steak all by itself. (See, mom and dad? You don't really have to eat more than just meat!) As I was bringing in the dishes, The Neighbor walks around the front of his camper, looks at me and says (in non-gibberish), "I hope you choke on it!"

Whoa! Delayed reaction there, buddy! I'm already done.

I said. "All right."

He apparently was still hoping to set me off, so he said it again.
And again I said, "All right."

Then things were quiet for a while. He was doing his thing in his yard and I was doing my thing in mine. For some reason my Fucktard Detector told me I should shoot a glance his direction, and when I did it was just in time to see him bury the head of a spade in the yard between our places. I said, "Make sure that's on your side, Al." (At this point I really didn't care if I pissed him off or not.)

If he said anything, I couldn't tell you what it was as I would have already tuned him out.

The day went on, and damn! Did I ever get stuff done! By the time I was ready to quit for the evening I had a full trailer of roots and unwanted growth to haul off to the community compost site, and so I did. (Thankfully, because a fresh batch of wood shavings had been dumped up there by the local tree service so I scored a trailer full of free mulch.)

But I had to chuckle when I looked over toward where The Neighbor had been working...

He had lined up 3 railroad ties, his utility trailer, and his riding lawnmower to divide our property. (Maybe he thinks the dead grass will help him sell the place faster. If dead grass is a selling point, I'll happily park my utility trailer, all 3 cars, all 5 of my riding lawnmowers, and however many push mowers I have scattered around the countryside on my lawn to help sell his place!)

Seriously. I'm heartbroken. I guess I can't bag his leaves and haul them out for free again this fall.

And then, on Saturday, I was awakened by the knock of a policeman at my door. (In describing this person to Steve - who I've mentioned in several earlier posts - he thought it was the town's Chief of Police. At any rate, the guy was friendly as could be.

I answered the door in a towel (I hadn't got up for the day yet) and invited him in. He said he was there with a complaint and asked if I was expecting it. (Well, yes. Yes I was. Otherwise I would have asked if he had a search warrant or if I was under arrest instead of inviting him in. I blame movies for knowing to do this.)

I just chuckled and said, "Yes. Hold on a sec while I get dressed."

Here he chuckled...and granted me permission to do so.

He started off by saying the complaint was from the neighbor, and that the neighbor "admitted to saying some things he shouldn't have said." (Gee. Ya think?)

So then he went over the complaint, and the city ordinances as they pertain to fire pits. (Turns out the firefighter I talked to was wrong. Fire pits actually aren't legal, they're just "tolerated" -because "everyone enjoys sitting around one." - Fucktard excluded, of course.)

I, in turn, just gave a quick apology and explanation to the officer. I said, "I did some grilling on it. It's the only day of the week I don't work and I was trying to get things done at home and enjoy myself at the same time. It shouldn't be a problem any more as I'm done working in the area where the fire pit is. I think the only reason there was a problem at all is because he's old and nosy and the fire pit was where he could see it, since the guy down there (pointing toward a house not visible from The Neighbor's place) also had a fire going yesterday. At any rate, you have my word that I won't have another fire where the pit is now. The crazy thing about this is he was an absolute dick each of the 3 times he came up here and he never once said 'please'!"

The officer laughed, thanked me for my time, and apologized for waking me up.

"Not a problem!" said I. "I've got a trailer full of mulch to put down and probably 30-some more plants to put in!"

He laughed again, said "Well, enjoy your day off!" and off he went.

This would have been a good spot to end this rather lengthy blog post, put there's updated material to add.

I gave David a quick run-down of the events when I picked him up on Saturday and told him to make sure he had Todd stay off of The Neighbors property.

On Monday morning, when I arrived home from work, there was an additional railroad tie added to the line - and when I walked into the house, David told me that The Neighbor had been out there for over an hour with some other guy who was wearing a safety vest and had a tape measure, and The Neighbor was pointing and directing and pacing off the line in huge steps...

If you knew the guy at all, you would totally be able to picture him doing this.

And you would smile because it would strike you funny.




Damn spellcheck! "Fucktard" is too a word! :)

Kill the Messenger!!!

Wow! Eventful weekend!

On Friday, "The Neighbor" and I made it known what we think of each other. There was some language used that our moms most likely would not approve of, (Moooommm! He started it!) and before the day was over he had lined up 4 railroad ties, his riding lawnmower, and his utility trailer as a makeshift fence to divide out property.

Oh! And he called the cops on me, too.

Not only is this town beautiful, it's finally starting to be fun! :)
(I rather enjoy telling the story. Let me know if you'd like to hear it.)



On Sunday I received a call from David from his mom's phone asking if I'd come and get him. A half tank of gas and 1.5 hours late to work later... (again - more detail available on request)

Oh! And she called the cops on me, too!
(OK, fine. I'm just kidding on that one.)


But Saturday is the focal day for today's blog.
And so it begins...


I received a text message last Thursday which said some friends from college were going to be getting together on Saturday, and they were wondering if I was interested in joining them. Their plan was to hit the buffet at the casino in Redwood Falls and then go to the outdoor concert.

The last time I'd seen two of these friends was 3 years ago (one now lives in MA) so they didn't really need to entice me with food.

So, after a solid day of yard work (which I find highly relaxing even with The Neighbor next door) I got cleaned up and pulled on some of David's clothes (because he was still gone and couldn't complain about the switch from my shredded Ralph Lauren jean shorts to his overpriced current name-brand khakis) and off I went to Redwood.

I pulled into the parking lot, and after driving up and down every aisle anywhere near where I wanted to be - I finally just parked way out in the middle of nowhere where nobody else would be likely to park. (Easy to find the car that way.) As I walked along toward the hotel where we all planned to meet, I noticed there were many empty parking spots much closer to the building than where I was parked. They all had signs in front of them that read "Reserved for Tribal Elders". I hope that all the Tribal Elders who chose to not park in the vacant, convenient spots were out looking for a groundskeeper.

We met up on the 6th floor of the hotel part of the casino as one of the friends and her husband had rented a room there. They had invited some friends from their town to join our gathering, so I met some new people, which is almost always a good time.

When everyone that was supposed to be there had finally shown up - we headed down to Main Floor...purchased out tickets for the concert... then wandered off to the buffet where we all lined up along a long table like we were in the dining hall of some grand castle.

Upon attaining a satisfactory "buzz kill", we wandered out to the fenced-in amphitheater area. We received our "Admission Paid" bracelets upon entry. A bit further up we received our "Over 21 and will be drinking tonight" bracelets. And then, after we had purchased our drinks and were ready to enter the last gate to the performance area, we were required to provide the torn stub of our ticket one last time. (I'm thinking that if they tried really, really hard...someone might come up with a slightly better "entrance strategy".)

We'd purchased tickets for table seating so that we could visit easier, and the tables were about the size and shape of the one you see in movies featuring King Arthur. So I plopped my royal arse in thy royal throne (plastic chair) at The Mythical Round Table surrounded by many a nobleman and lady who had acquired similar status in the kingdom.

The band that performed goes by the name of "Hairball". I thought about having the title of today's blog be the same name, but I didn't want you to start reading this with the impression I was about describe a gift that Claire, Clairee, Dangit, or Insertyourcat'snamehere might leave for you. (Cat's names listed in alphabetical order so that none of the mentioned cat's should feel slighted.)

The performance was actually very impressive and a lot of fun. The band plays all 80's music by "Hair Bands". They have two lead singers, and while one is singing the other is changing into the style of clothing that the original band's lead singer would have worn as he sang the song in the 80's.

They opened with Kiss, so the singer was dressed in black and white, with the black wig, and black and white face paint, and had the sweet axe-shaped guitar. When they performed songs by Prince, the singer was dressed in a wig and wearing the purple outfit and completely looking the part. And they did the same each time they switched to a different band!

They had pyrotechnics, confetti cannons, and dry ice for fog effects. They sent out beach balls into the dance area, as well as these massive confetti filled balloons which the singer would pop when they came back to the stage, showering the whole front area. The light show was on time with the music, and (of course) the present company was great! :)

For the encore, they ended with AC/DC. I thought it odd that they sent the large beach balls out into crowd as I don't remember colorful beach balls making a regular appearance in AC/DC videos. Then it became clear. After he finished singing the song he was on, there was a short pause... and then (in nearly perfect AC/DC imitation) there came, "my balls are always bouncing - to the left and to the right."

I found it amusing.

Then the light show dimmed and fireworks launched into the sky from right behind the stage.

And it when it was all done, our table looked like some big, strange, round chess set - with the pawns being all the plastic cups of the mixed drinks and the beer bottles being the power pieces.

But there was also a Dr. Pepper bottle. (Sir Dr. Pepper?) Anyway, it was the only bottle that still had a cap on it. I missed where it came from, but with the rest of the empty containers being kings, queens, rooks, bishops, castles, and pawns of rival kingdoms...

I thought, "That must be the messenger one hears tell of... " ;)

Nicki

I visited your Facebook wall yesterday.
I saw that some had left comments.
I did not.

Actually, I've never left a comment on your wall.
And you've never left one on mine.
No biggy. Over half of my "friends" will probably never leave a comment.
But you were a friend, nonetheless.


I thought about you as I drove home from work this morning.
Somewhere along the way I even turned the radio off.

I thought about your original house, and how amazed I was when I saw that the entry door opened directly to the steps to the upper level, and how the wall of the staircase was lined with all the ribbons you'd won at horse shows.

I thought about your original barn, and how large and sturdy it seemed, and about how it seemed like the builders had thought it out better than whoever had planned the house.

It was red, like old wood barns should be.


I remembered the horse shows, and I thought about Karen, and Sarah, and Michelle, and Sue, and Tonya, and little Barbie, and the other 4-H girls who were at the fair each year.

And of course, I thought of Val, because horses were more her thing than mine...but with a 5 minute refresher from you I bet I'd still place in an "Open Showmanship" class!

I thought about how patient you were with all of us, and how caring you were to not only us, but to all life.

I thought about all the horses that I still remember the names of.
You had the golden prize winning Palomino, Princess.
Karen had the seemingly untouchable brown and white Paint, Trinket, with the light blue eyes.
Val had fat little Cody...

And I thought about your other animals, and how it was just habit to glance into your yard on the way by to see if the pig and the goat were freely wandering about like dogs and cats do at other farm sites.

I thought of many things. Of God, and Heaven, and 44 being much too young.

I thought about the changes that I've seen over the years. How the original house was replaced by a smaller one that was set up with a pet grooming business in the basement, and how the original barn is no longer there, but the Hollyhocks come back year after year next to the new one.

I thought about our last visit, and how you seemed weakened physically but remained strong emotionally, and how we talked and laughed and made childish plans for you to stop by and see my new place when you were able to.

And then I arrived home, in the dark, with my headlights shining on the daylilies, coneflowers, and Black-Eyed Susans I'd recently planted.

I sat there in silence for a moment.

I thought "Where should I add some Hollyhocks... "

And then I went in and took a shower to remove the tear tracks.

I thought of you today.
And I will think of you again.
You will be remembered.
And missed.