autumn, (again)

Fall has again fallen. I started writing a blog entry about it, then had a strange deja vu. I checked, and, sure enough, there's an entry about it last year, too. Many of the same things hold true, of course. Candles abound at Casa de Tastrophe, and the stone is chilly beneath my feet. (I am pleased that there is more stone to be cold, as a recent home improvement project has been completed). 

I have just returned from a fabulous vacation in a very warm locale, so the seasonal weather on my return has intensified the contrast. What I am finding most jarring this year is the light. The daylight gets shorter and shorter this time of year. Every year, it is a gradual thing, but every year it catches me by surprise. Gone are the halcyon days of summer. I will miss the heat, the sun; but autumn has its pleasures, too. The holidays are just around the corner, and this promises to be a good year, as work should not be so crazy as it has been. I wonder if I will again feel that strange compulsion to bake cookies?

Tonight, I will put a blanket on my bed, light some candles and fix myself some dinner...the simple delights of the season.

boating?

I often think about how my life has changed; it makes me smile. I also think about how my desires have changed. It’s amusing to chat with my boys, who are clearly in a different station of life than me. I must be careful not to jade them—it’s difficult to discuss the findings of my life without robbing them of their macro-romantic predilections, (which I feel are only natural for people looking to build a family). 

Conversely, I sometimes look around at my contemporaries, and am surprised to find some of these same predilections still deeply entrenched. Why would you be looking for the traits that would indicate a good mother when you have zero interest in more children? Is the person you chose to raise a family with the same that you want to retire with? Sure, for some, the answer is yes, absolutely. Lucky them! I think they probably made their life adjustments together and I think that is a fine thing. I do not, however, condemn those that changed boats, midstream, on the river of life. While it may not be noble, I suppose, living with the alternative, (being miserable), seems yucky. If someone finds themselves without a canoe, why would they seek out another, just like the last one, when there are speed boats, and fishing boats, and windsurfers all available? If you wanted a canoe for the first half of your life, would you necessarily want another one for the second half?

  

It’s funny, a speedboat can be a high-maintenance thing, so I encourage the boys to pick out a good canoe—it’s easier to push off from the shore. There's no rush...enjoy the boat show.

choices

Sometimes the choice is not between right and wrong, but between order and chaos. It is an interesting choice, because, by definition, right is right and wrong is wrong. Order and chaos don't have that knee-jerk reaction built in. Sometimes, chaos is the right choice, and sometimes order is the wrong choice. 

I'm no great scholar of Hinduism, but I have always been intrigued by their notion of destruction--while not pleasant, there is a time for it. To me, this is when chaos is the right choice. I'm not sure if, deep down, this is about tearing up the flooring in my house, or getting divorced, or something else. Maybe it's about killing zombies? I just don't know, but it is mildly interesting today.

batch lore tips

I’ve often thought it would be fun to write down some tips for the freshly bachelorized. My wife and I split up several years ago; then I pushed the fledglings out of the nest, leaving me living alone with a marvelous long distance girlfriend. In the following few years, I’ve learned a lot about myself and a lot about living alone. I do not have a list of bachelor tips, but I’ll spout out some nonsense, willy-nilly, as it occurs to me.

The first tip, however, is easy: buy a shop vac. It is far and away the best investment a guy living alone can make. Over the years, I’ve watched women pushing around crumbs on kitchen countertops. They push them around and around. Most find their way to floor, where the housewife’s broom finds them and delivers them to the dustbin. With a shop vac, however, those crumbs are sucked right up into a black hole in a jiff. A broom? Brooms are for witches and the occasional quidditch match; a real man uses power tools.

A shop vac is also a handy thing to rid yourself of unwanted houseguests. An invasion of ants is really just a real-life video game where the aliens descend on the helpless peasants and collect them in the mothership for nefarious purposes, off-planet. In this game, you are the alien. Ants go bye-bye and the place doesn’t smell like Monsantoville. Spiders and webs? TTFN, baby!

When you’re picking out this indispensable device, remember: you don’t have a big family any more. A small, lightweight model is better, as long as it really sucks. Keep an eye on the horsepower ratings.  

roadkill rally

Oh, ladies & gentleman! It's an amazing Cinderella story, where a scrappy squirrel, a real underdog, comes from behind and wins the race! 

(The street sweeper got to the squirrel first).

neck and neck

The opossum will be asking for a judgement call: if 51% of him is no longer in the gutter, does he win?

Meanwhile, the squirrel, considerably less spry these days, is trying a new tactic. I think he realized that skunks get removed promptly, so he decided to start stinking.

It won't be long now...

on the road again...

I’ve been watching an unusual race this week as I ride my bicycle home for lunch each day. The race is between an opossum and a squirrel. I guess in a way, the opossum cheated because he started the race last week, so I thought he would surely be the first across the “finish line.” As it stands right now, the squirrel has gained ground, and I despair of the opossum even crossing the line at all. 

You see, the opossum and the squirrel are both dead. The opossum shuffled off the mortal coil last week, and the squirrel joined the race over the weekend. They are racing to see who will be removed from the gutter first. Sadly for the opossum, he now more closely resembles a remnant of carpet rather than a once-living creature. So much so that I doubt anyone would think to remove his carcass. The squirrel is trying hard to win, since he has an adorable, surprised look on his face; veritably smiling and winking at passing cars and trucks. 

I’ll let you know who wins.