Adventures in lawn care

So here’s a story for your morning coffee. This evening, I finally mowed the grass for the first time of the season, so that I was no longer THAT neighbor…the one with the wild, unkempt yard. Well, in so doing I got a little too close to a yard ornament…an access pipe for our sewer line.

Last year, I was able to run over the pipe top without incident. Apparently, over the winter the soil has settled just enough so that the top of this plastic pipe sticks up about, oh, say, lawnmower-blade high. I was trying to avoid the thing anyway, because I thought that to be the smart thing to do, and in retrospect, it sure would have been. But the self-propelled lawn mower’s wheels got really good traction at precisely the wrong moment. The mower went three inches further than I intended and white plastic shards went flying.

So now I have to spend the morning digging up the ground around the top of the pipe so that I can attempt to replace that busted cap. Maybe I should buy two of them while I’m at the store…

Theoretically, this should not be a very difficult task. But hey, at least the yard is mowed.

Playing on XM: Reverend Horton Heat

Sheetz and Star Trek

I love Sheetz. It's not the cheap gas prices or the standard perks of a modern convenience store. No, I go there for one thing: the food. It's cheap gas station food taken to the level of science fiction.

Just like Captain Picard calling up his cup of Earl Grey, I step up to the flatscreen computer terminal and touch my way through the food menu:

"Hot dog," I request.
Cheese? it asks, and presents me with two options.
"American," I reply.
Condiments?
"Ketchup, mustard, onions, jalapenos, and chili"
How many would you like prepared this way?
"Two"
Sides?
"Coleslaw...no, wait, belay that request. Jalepeno and cheddar-filled soft pretzel!"

A quick touch of the "Place Order" button and I wait just a few moments as all of the molecules are coalesced and assembled via transporter technology. I grab a drink, pay the cashier for my order, and then my food materializes on the counter. Just like Star Trek!

Now, yes, between you and me, I understand that there are people behind that counter preparing my food. I can see them. I talk to them. But as I stand there tapping my way through the order, I'm taken away, in my mind, to my own little starship in that clean, utopian vision of the future. Hey, it's my lunch hour, I'll spend it in whatever fantasy I choose.

But no, this is just normal, modern technology in our daily, very human lives. The food is prepped by people just like you and me. It's not like they are holograms to satisfy our mundane expectations. Or are they?

Playing on XM: some crappy CCR.

Doctor Who comes to Scifi!

Great news, for those who care. And likely old news by now, but I'm still all a-flutter about it. Scifi has picked up last season's new Doctor Who series, previously only available via BBC and mostly illegal downloading. Hmm...I wonder if iTunes has it?

I've been a fan of Doctor Who since my high school/Cro-magnon days. From what I've heard, the new series is awesome and Christopher Eccleston apparently fills the Gallifreyan shoes admirably. But what would you expect from the guy who goes out of his mind as young Ewan McGregor's roommate in Shallow Grave. (See it if you haven't...it rocks!)

Playing on XM: Hank III (and his twangy new 2-disc album is out!!)


Edit: Four episodes in now. Wow! Eccleston truly does a wonderful job as the excitable yet aloof Doctor. The first two episodes were lackluster for me, but they had a lot of groundwork to lay. Now that the angst is out of the way, the third and fourth episodes were fabulous. They feel very much like the Doctor Who stories of old. Joy!

What a great weekend!

Oops. I kinda forgot that I have a blog. Oh well, on to business.

What a great weekend. It wasn't long enough, I didn't get enough sleep, etc. But two great things happened on Satyrday.

Part: the First
First, was a first. The boys were hanging out that afternoon while we waited for some guests to arrive. My youngest minion, Duncan, got tired of watching TV and playing with Transformers with his brother. That alone is enough to merit a blog post, but that's not the biggie. He wandered off to his bedroom to play by himself.

After giving him enough time to get into trouble, I went to check on him. I found him curled up in his beanbag reading a book. Duncan. My 5-year old dynamo. The boy what never stops moving was enjoying a book. What's more, it was a chapter book! That's the first time he's ever taken one up to read by himself! Granted, he's 5; he's in kindergarten. He's not supposed to be reading on the same level as his older brother. But here he was, reading a 2nd grade-level book.

Not wanting to let this major milestone pass quickly into 5-minutes-ago, I asked him if it would be okay if I got my book and came in to read with him and keep him company. He said, "sure!" So I ran to my bedroom, grabbed that recent issue of Weird Tales magazine I've been dying to finish, and plopped down on his bed.

Naturally, he crawled up onto the bed beside me, and that's where we stayed for the better part of an hour! Duncan has NEVER done anything for the better part of an hour. Quality father/son time if ever there was any. Him with "Junie B., First Grader: Cheater Pants" and me with the second half of a novella by William F. Nolan about Jack the Ripper. Heaven!

Part: the Second
Next was the arrival of our guests: the regional greyhound rescue, um, people. We've wanted to adopt a grey for years and finally ante'd up to the table. They came for a their pre-adoption home visit, bringing along three doe-sized hounds to scamper about in our home. As we all sat in the living room, getting to know each other, the dogs loped around the living room/dining room/kitchen areas, looking very much like a herd of deer.

After checking out the place for five minutes, the dog-people settled in the living room with the human-people to bask in affection and look out our picture window at passers-by. Eventually they settled down on the floor, ignoring the two very-interested boys and conversing adults.

If you've never seen a greyhound, they are odd-looking creatures. Scrawny, with short fur and nearly translucent skin, long legs, noses, and tails. Scrawny, but large. Easily four feet long (without the tail) and three feet high. Two of them were very graceful creatures. The third was larger and gangly. Someone I could relate to, for sure.

The visit went well. The rescue people were giving us good vibes of approval and we were more certain than ever that one of these peaceful, laid-back beasts was the dog for us. That night, we discussed which of the two adoptable hounds we preferred (the third belonged to the people visiting), and not surprisingly, we all preferred the same dog.

Part: the follow-up
We heard back from the rescue group today. They agreed with our choice of animal and encouraged us to move ahead as soon as we can, rather than waiting until April, like we had opted. We're getting a puppy! Well, she's four and the size of a small farm animal, but it's all the same to us!

Playing on XM: The Who

Life lessons...

Cell phones and washing machines don't mix.

That's what my wife found out recently. Of course, the phone is shiny and clean again... I went to my local phone store and explained my delimma. The guy...a great-looking black man with green eyes that just might be real...checked my account and confirmed that yes, my wife's phone is insured. Thought so. I knew I insured one of them when we first got them, but couldn't remember which one. I'm the one who was most likely to drop it and break it. I did drop it within the first week -- onto a concrete sidewalk -- but fortunately it survived with only a few nicks.

No, I chose to buy insurance for my wife's phone because of her history with electronic gadgets. She has a strong aura that apparently doesn't get along well with electronics. It's not her fault, and it's not incompetence of any sort. It's just that sometimes electronical things get wonky around her. So I opted for a warranty of sorts for her cell phone.

Fast-forward to today. I place the call to the insuring agency and find out that apparently people leave their cell phones in their pants pockets and wash them all the time. Now, I've washed my pocket knife a time or three. But never my wallet or car keys. And before now, would never have imagined running my cell phone through the wash. But then, I guess neither would my wife.

Merry Christmas from Cybertron!

Here we are...Christmas Day! There are so many Transformers swarming around our house now, that it feels like our home IS Cybertron (that's the Transformers' home planet, for those of you not in the know). Definitely a Transformers Christmas! And I think my sister-in-law is bringing a couple more, too.

Happy Holidays everyone. Stay safe and close to those you love, and watch out for those evil Decepticons!

Another post about beer

Last year I made an awesome discovery during the holiday season, and I am fortunate to experience it again this year: Saranac's 12 Beers of Winter . What can I say about this? I won't dally with teasing details; I'll get straight to the point. To me, Saranac's 12 beers of winter is the equivalent of a box of holiday chocolates. It's a sublime sampler of sophisticated suds. Each one is different, and UNLIKE the chocolates, each one is delicious. Especially the caramel porter. That's a new flavor, and man, does it rock!

Imagine it: 12 beers, all a different flavor, and all of them good! I get giddy whenever I open the box. Last year, when I brought it home for the first time (I don't think there were 12 flavors last year, I'm not sure), I accidentally drank six of them in one sitting while watching Fellowship of the Ring. Now, I don't usually drink more than two on a typical evening, but I got caught up in the excitement of new flavors and a terrific movie.

The only one I don't really care for is the Winter Wassail. I don't usually like spiced beers. This one reminded me of a fruitcake. Well, more like a fruitcake soaked in heavy beer. All of the flavors are rich and complex. The colors represent the full spectrum of the hoppy rainbow. Tasty, "sippin' beer" just begging for a fire place.

Saranac makes good beer in general. Fact of life. But they really pull out all the stops for this seasonal collection. Go to your grocery store and pick one up while you can. If you've never had Saranac, you may have seen them. During other parts of the year, you can usually find their standard 12-pack, called a Trail Mix. It's an assortment of their regular flavors.

That's enough sales pitching for now. Me, I'm going to pour me one and watch Family Guy. I wonder what I'll choose...their black and tan or the oatmeal stout? The chocolate amber? Oh, maybe the nut brown...you know how much I love brown ales, and this one is incredible.

I'm a beer dork.

Playing on XM: Twangbangers
(their 9-minute version of Hotrod Lincoln features a study of guitar-playing styles!)