Today I paid a visit to my son's classroom, where they are preparing for the big "Kinderconcert" field trip tomorrow at Orchestra hall. I brought in the 12-string and gave a small presentation to a captive audience of 4 and 5-year-olds.
I played "Twinkle Twinkle" on the low strings, then on the high. And then on both finishing with a flourish (basically just an open E chord but it seemed to impress them). Then we all sang together while I played.
We talked about how different instruments work together to make music sound better and I answered questions like if it's harder to play 12 strings, what the tuning pegs do, etc.
I told them that music is for everyone, and that anybody can learn to play an instrument - It just takes practice.
At the end they all clapped and practiced the two new words they learned this week - "Bravo!" , "Encore!" You can laugh at me if you want but that is the only time I have heard those words spoken aloud while I had a guitar strapped to me.
My son capped it all off with "Thanks for coming! See you tomorrow!"
There's dull ring or buzz somewhere behind my right eye that has been droning for the last week or so, with occasional frantic screeches like a giant fish is stripping line off of a fishing reel in my mind. The drag is set too tight friends, and the line is unbreakable. The gears are starting to smoke.
I have been stressed out at work, which I avoid writing about so as not to get dooced. Suffice it to say that There is a lot going on and I am over extended. I find myself working until 6:30 at night, going home and logging back on at 10 to write embarrassing (Lack of) progress reports.
The second two panes of this cartoon pretty much says it all.
Tons going on in terms of my non-blog life. Overwhelmed by work, family health concerns, Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da, so on and so forth. Patiently waiting to get the data cable for my phone so I can start pulling photos off of it. I got the thing over six months ago and promptly filled up the memory. Haven't taken a picture with it in months.
Going Ice fishing tomorrow. Don't expect to catch much but plan on having a blast in the warm 36-degree weather. Not taking the house, fishing old school in the open air.
Stopped by a local sporting good mart over my lunch hour and hit the clearance racks. I picked up a nice pair of convertible pants for $15 and an ice fishing rod & reel combo for $11. Score!
In an egregious breach of protocol, I am going to blog about something work-related, although this could actually happen to anyone, anytime.
While waiting on hold for the customer support of a soon-to-be-former vendor, I was subjected to an endless loop of "Touch of Grey" by the Grateful Dead. The song never started and never ended. It was ENDLESS.
The worst part was that I was subjected to multiple transfers in the hunt for the elusive "Right guy" to talk to, and Jerry Garcia was still waiting for me, like he had never stopped singing, because in reality he hadn't.
Perhaps they were overconfident in their ability to get a rep assigned to me in four minutes or less. If so, they failed miserably. I suspect that it was all part of a master plan to break my will, which if so it was orchestrated with astonishing effectiveness. Eventually I was babbling incoherently, waving a lighter over my head and begging them to play Free Bird or Wayward Son. My brain was short-circuited. I cannot remember what I called them about or if they even helped me.
...Is the day that you receive your annual Secret Santa assignment. As my fingers went through the hat, they passed over several slips of paper and ultimately betrayed me by yielding the name of that colleague that I dread the most. And now I need to decide what to get this sucker. Of all people to draw, this is the one person that I cannot get away with buying a Barnes & Noble card for.
My limit is 20 bucks. Do I go with an extravagant cheap gift, or do I go with a cheap nice gift? It's a tough call.
If you ever find yourself in a sales meeting and you unwittingly refer to a marketing plan that your client is seriously considering as being "slimy" (Ex., sending a mass email to a list of purchased addresses belonging to people who did not opt in to be spammed by a third party):
Do yourself a favor and let somebody else talk for a while. Once your ears stop burning, get back on the horse. If you happen to hear their marketing director say something to the effect that the company president is getting 20 - 30 penis enlargement emails a day (ergo, certainly their product would get past the average spam filter), in the driest and most professional tone possible ask if there is any chance that he opted in to receive those emails.
Depending on the client's sense of humor, this will either redeem you or else it will just shovel more dirt on your grave. Either way you've already screwed up anyway, so why not take a chance? Better to die on your feet than to live on your knees!
Photos from last week's field trip to the pumpkin patch.
I don't have a lot to say about it, so I will get out of the way and let the pictures tell the story. One thing though, back in my day school buses did not have security cameras or 'body fluid cleanup kits.'
Yesterday was picture day at school. We won't get the proofs back from the 'real' photographer for a little while yet, but these are some shots I got at home before chauffeuring our young professor off to school.
Next week his class goes on a field trip to visit a pumpkin patch. We're pretty stoked about it in my household, as the wife and I will be accompanying as chaperons.
Yesterday was the wife's "American" birthday, as this was the day that she stood with 1,179 other people from 86 different countries and took the oath and became a United States citizen. Most of the people who stumble across this web journal do not know much about my beautiful wife; this is by design as I avoid putting too much information out on the web about my family. But today I will take exception, as I feel the need to tell the world just how very proud I am of her.
She was born in the Philippines, on the largest southern island. Her parents are down to earth hard working people, who have gone to great lengths to provide good opportunities for their children - My father in law even spent over ten years working in Saudi Arabia when local job conditions were so poor that he would not have been able to support his family. I don't think that my wife has ever forgotten her father's sacrifices, because by his actions he opened her eyes to life's possibilities, if one is willing to step outside of their comfort zone and leave home.
She finished high school at 16 and enrolled at a local college, which she completed in four years with a degree in computer science. At age 20 she found herself in the same depressed local economy that had pushed her father out of the country. Acting on her mother's advice she relocated to Manila, with the plan to live there until she either found a job or she ran out of money. She went through a season of living out of her suitcase, moving from relatives house to friends house and in and out of boarding houses. Each day was spent walking the streets of Makati, knocking down the doors of every business, looking for someone who would hire her. She was rejected too many times to count and did not acclimate to Manila well at first - On one occasion she was even accosted by a street thug, who ripped a gold chain right off of her neck as she was riding in an open air jeepney.
Twice a week she would call home crying, begging her mother to let her come home. Time after time her mother would reply that God is faithful, and that he would provide for her. Finally a company expressed interest in her and hired her. Not long after she was recruited for a position in Singapore, where she spent almost a year before transferring back to Manila.
One day she received a call from an American recruiter, who had a copy of her resume from her Makati days. It seemed a rather large company in the U.S. had a problem with several of their computer systems and there was a shortage of American programmers fluent in the original system language. In September of 1997 my future wife set foot in Minnesota. She has only been able to get back to see her parents one time, and has not been back to the Philippines since Christmastime of 1999. She misses her parents a lot and still talks to them at least twice a week. Her parent's faith and sacrifice has paid off, as her sister is also here in the U.S., living in Los Angeles.
In December of 2000 we met and fell in love, marrying in 2002. Our son was born in 2003. In the time since we have been together I have been at her side as she went through processing for both her green card and naturalization. It boggles my mind the sheer amounts of paperwork, the money spent, the hoops jumped through and the lines waited in, just to obtain something I got for free just because of an indiscretion by my parents.
So baby, congratulations on this payoff after all your hard work - Enjoy your day in the sun, because you have without a doubt EARNED this!
Unlike last year this year we went to the Minnesota State Fair. The wife won free tickets to see Prairie Home Companion, performed live in the grandstand this past Friday night. It was a great show, with a lot of really good music (Including a guest performance by Patty Griffin) and of course all of the extras that come with the MSF - Overindulgence of food, a fireworks display, the odor of the beer garden, etc.
One of the more amusing portions was the disbelief the wife experienced when she found out that we had to pay to get into the fair in order to redeem and enjoy our grandstand tickets. I forget sometimes that she's not from around here. Yesterday while we were driving I noted a pedestrian and commented, "That guy looks just like Willie Nelson." She looked at me blankly and asked, "Willie WHO?"
"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke, "There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke. But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate, So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."
On Saturday 08/11/2007 I went on a road trip to Northern MN to flyfish for trout. This is what I saw.
Friday night to Saturday morning it stormed. I drove north through the aftermath with lightning crackling through the clouds above me as I drove. The river was going to be muddy and I knew it. But there was nothing else to be done. My fishing day was my fishing day, and I had to take it come rain or shine.
I had several potential entry points circled on my map, and as I prowled the back country roads I happened across a whitetail family set up near the road. They gave me all the time in the world but by the time I had the presence of mind to dig out the camera and snap a photo, they were all but gone.
After exploring several of the tributaries to the Nemadji River, I finally settled on an entrance point on the river proper, where Highway 23 passes over it. There was a nice parking area that was empty, except for a fellow who was scouting for grouse hunting spots.
I wasn't much in the mood for company. It is hard enough to find a free day to depressurize once a quarter. Added to that I recently lost a cousin from complications involving a gall bladder removal. She was 43, died three days after my 39th birthday. She still is 43, and always going to be 43 from here on. I had been been easing into the mindset where I realistically know I could go at anytime, but now the 'easing' phase is officially over.
The river was muddy as I suspected. I spent a long time along the banks, watching for activity. It looked pretty dead. Given the lack of surface activity I started out nymphing, using a black wooly bugger with a strike indicator. After only a few casts I had two separate hits on my strike indicator. I quickly switched over to a #12 wolf adams and promptly hooked this little baby through the nose.
I worked the river for a few hours and that chubby little shiner was the only luck I had. I practiced my casting. I listened to the world around me, paying no mind to the occasional bridge noise in the distance.
There was no sense to be made from my cousin's death. I hadn't seen her since my mother's funeral, had scarcely even spoken to her then as there were just too many people to talk to. I had no idea that she was even having the surgery. I was not a factor in her life, nor she in mine really. And that is what the sadness is about, the guilt. The feeling that yes, we played together as kids and that somehow that childhood friendship should have carried over into adulthood. Up to now I had been able to live with the idea that there was time to make that connection, that it was ok to put it off for now. Except that now there isn't any more time.
I finally crawled up a muddy bank and set back to my truck for some lunch. There was no real trail to speak of so I bushwhacked through the forest, keeping the the river in earshot. I have humped through some tough brush in my day, and this was some of it. It was definitely not a friendly environment for a chubby guy lugging a flyrod.
After I ate I broke out the camera and explored for some good shots. Several attempts netted me some local insect life. Insects live hard and die fast. They don't have complex emotions like guilt and angst. They just get on about their business and make way for the next generation. The local plant life echoed that sentiment, as the air hung thick and sweet with the smell of pollen and nectar. Every plant and tree was in the midst of a giant bender, drunk to the gills on the rainwater from the previous night. The cicadas trilled from the treetops, like an alarm to let us know that September is coming. And when it does the nights will turn cold, and no insect plant or tree will wonder why nobody told them that it was coming.
I didn't have much heart to try the river again in the afternoon. I packed up the truck and made my way a few more miles up 23 to a scenic overlook. I have passed it a few times and never taken a picture there. Since I had the tripod with me I did a panoramic. After that I turned to the south and made my way back to my family like a homesick puppy.
... From my usual smart-ass commentary, in lieu of the 35W bridge collapse in Minneapolis last night. It may sound like a cliche, but my thoughts and prayers are with the survivors and the families of the victims of yesterday's tragedy. I was on southbound 35W taking the Stinson exit at exactly 6:00 PM yesterday. If for whatever reason I had been heading into downtown, I would have been right on the bridge when it went down.
Back in my 20's I used to fish from the bank of the Mississippi, in the shadow of that bridge. I used to relish the contrast between the busy hum of the cars passing overhead with the slow pace of catfishing. It's hard to imagine such a large structure, whose presence I have taken for granted my entire life as simply not being there anymore.
It will be more than a year, possibly several years, before things get back to 'normal' here. I don't know about anybody else but I will think differently each time I cross the river from now on.
Pictures (All 3 are Copyright of the Star Tribune):
I received an email yesterday. Nothing notable about that, you might say. I get about 200 emails a day, offering to help solve my credit problems, to cure my hideously shameful diseases, to rid me of my erectile dysfunction and/or hard-earned cash (No pun intended). So in the course of a day it is not really notable to say that I received an email from somebody.
Except this email came from me.
Waaaa?
I did a double take and then vaguely recalled that last year I visited a web site called "Future Me" (http://www.futureme.org) - It offers a free service where you can fill out a form and set a date for a message to be sent to you. So last year on my birthday I sent this message to myself, one year into the future:
Dear FutureMe,
Today is my 38th birthday. When you get this I will be 39. I hope that things are going OK. You fought with your wife last night and did not make up with her before you dropped her off at work. Your son is 3 years old. You gave him a bath last night and showed him how to brush his teeth. When he went to bed you read him a Thomas the tank engine book, some of the lines you speak through an empty paper towel tube to simulate a bullhorn.
I hope that you are having a good day. Make peace with your wife. Appreciate your son. Life is going by fast, don't keep your head is in the clouds and miss it.
If I could send a message back to 2006, it would be this:
Happy birthday, previous me.
Last night your wife and son took you to dinner where you consumed part of a massive ribeye steak (You are eating the rest for lunch today). Later, your wife and son fell asleep on the couch with you while you watched the Tour de France. After helping them to bed and taking out the garbage, you walked around on your lawn in your bare feet and looked at the stars. It was better than you could have imagined. Now here are the results of some sporting events that I would like you to bet a little money on...
Here are some work doodles that I have done in weekly staff meetings over the years. They would probably mean more to the people who were trapped in those meetings with me than they would to you.
I was annoyed by a colleague's self-esteem issues when I drew this. Look at the date. It's hard to remember what life was like five months before the towers fell.
Another time I was dying inside because I was given more projects than I could handle.
Former colleagues, also overworked. One internalizing his rage, the other on the verge of tears.
The wife and I were at a colleague's wedding at the Lake Como Band shell.
I didn't bring my digital camera but I did bring my mental camera, and 'snapped' this mental image of the boat rental area. I can't draw as well as I can remember, but this sketch does serve for me as a reminder of what I experienced.
NOT PICTURED: The heat of the sun on my navy blue suit (What was I thinking?), The smell of the algae coming off the lake, the feel of wife's fingers in the back of my hair as she patiently watched me knock out the outlines (I shaded this sometime later), a kid catching a 'hammer handle' northern pike off of another dock (a little to the left of the area I chose to sketch).
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