Published writer, compulsive reader, Old School Whovian, Match Game enthusiast, NKOTB fan, data hoarder, and - surprisingly, given that list - married with four kids. Welcome to my take on life, fatherhood, entertainment, and whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
I just finished Robert B. Parker's High Profile, a Jesse Stone novel.
While it is true that I normally binge on an author's work before tiring of him and moving on, it just happens that I picked up this book because of it's pretty cover.
Gotta love that Library glossy plastic dustjacket.
It's a pretty good read. As usual, Jesse needs to kick his kooky ex to the curb, and as usual he doesn't.
Beyond that, a fine little mystery set in fictional Paradise Mass.
So I now weigh 5 pounds MORE than I did 50 weeks ago when I started Weight Watchers.
On the plus side (no pun intended) the 6th of May will mark 6 months without so much as a drag of a cigarette.
I suppose it's time to 'recommit'. I need to stop using the smoking as a (legitimate) reason to stuff my face and get back on the program.
Oh, man will that suck for awhile.
* * * * *
Lost is back on track, and answering questions at a startling rate. Now granted, some of these 'answers' have long been deduced by diehard fans (Locke's Dad is the 'real' Sawyer? Oh my, didn't see THAT coming) but its still great to see the confirmation.
So is there new life - again, no pun intended - in my theory that the characters are dead and in purgatory?
Probably not - the 'crash' scene was probably a ruse to divert attention from the true site, and all these 'you're dead' lines will wind up being so many red herrings.
My theories:
1. Kate is pregnant by Sawyer.
2. Cooper is either a) a manifestation of the island and not real b)soon to be resurrected by the isle and/or c) both
3. Jack and Juliet are in cahoots in an end-around against Ben and his plan. Possibly a wheels-within-wheels plan between Ben and Juliet in there too - we'll see.
4. Naomi is another Henry Gale, an inflitrator for the Others.
I'm enjoying the season and can't wait for the finale.
* * * *
The Yankees are looking mighty pathetic so far this year. It's too early to say adios to the season, but they need to turn it on.
On the flip side the Brewers are rocking the National League Central. I guess every 25 years - 1957, 1982, today - the city manages to produce a winner.
I hope :)
* * *
I am deeply disappointed with my home office. It is everything I thought it would be, but I feel disconnected from the family when I use it. I'm used to having the computer in the living room with the TV; now it's in a seperate room all by it's lonesome.
That'll take some getting used to.
Here's some photos of YaYa at my work. Sometimes it made more sense to bring her back to work with me after school, rather than journey all the way back to our old house.
Here's my bulletin board. Note all the girls' drawings/photos and the horrid reminder of my term as AOL's First Guest Editor. The dinosaur is from LuLu.
Normally she'd snatch something to eat and then go on barbie.com, pollypocket.com, or disneychannel.com on my laptop.
This particular day a possum was out in the parking lot. I've seen deer, hawks, possums, snakes (caught one and had YaYa hold it), Praying Mantis, and coyotes in my years there.
Which is dang odd, considering I'm smack dab in an established commercial area in the midst of the city.
I just finished Robert B. Parker's Hundred Dollar Baby.
April Kyle, a troubled teenager Spenser turned over to the care of a NY Madam decades ago (over the course of two novels) is now a Madam of her own. When her high-class brothel is threatened by goons looking to extort her she hires Spenser to take care of the problem. What follows is a web of lies, murder, and tragedy.
In my opinion, this is a fine return to form after years of watered-down, predictable novels. The writing is sharp, the normally nauseating Susan-Spenser love surprisingly tender, the plot engaging (for this character driven series) and the expansion of April Kyle's character entertaining.
As usual, in a nod to his own two gay sons, Parker uses the homosexual Teddy Sapp in the book. Unlike previous efforts, when he beat you over the head with it to prove a point,the character's sexuality is not much of an issue. Some might also say Susan is annoying - and she is - but for Pete's sake she's been around 30 years; give up on Parker dumping her character, will ya?
A highly recommended book. Check it out.
Earlier this year we were suprised to find that Faye's Diner - a place my wife worked as a teen and in an earlier incarnation (as Paul's) was featured prominently on Grandpa's Day in '83 - was closed.
We only went there occasionally in the last ten years, but it was still sad to see it go. Now, as the sign states, it'll be a parking lot.
What progress.
Last Friday I noticed a whopping big spider on my kitchen window. I'm not talking tarantula here, but quarter-sized. I got out the Raid and let loose. It fell, then scampered out a crack where I'd failed to close the storm window.
In it's wake it left the perfect Spider-Man logo in the Raid foam.
Being a dork, I Nextelled my Dad to come look. [the wife and kids were out].
In anticipation of his visit l I went out and caught the thing for show-and-tell.
When my Dad arrived I took him outside to show him the beast. At that moment I looked up for whatever reason . .
cue music . . .
and in horror, noticed that the entire side of the house was covered with equally large spiders, each with a sturdy web of it's own.
Ugh!
I have nothing against spiders, nor a fear of them, but c'mon!
My theory is the spiders eggs had hatched in the bright eastern sun of the previous few days. Thankfully they haven't got into the house (I must have killed the scout).
Knock on wood, that is.
Lisa's mom took YaYa to see Night at the Museum yesterday, and my oldest girl thoroughly enjoyed it.
On the way to school this conversation took place:
"And you know that President in the movie?" she said.
"Teddy Roosevelt?" I said, guessing by the preview.
"Yeah, him. Guess what? The actor who played him WAS THE VOICE OF THE GENIE IN ALADDIN!"
"I heard him talk and I was like [cue bug eyes] Grandma that's the Genie!"
"He must be like a famous actor or something, huh?"
She was speaking, of course, of Robin Williams.
Lisa's mom left for Arizona for the winter (to return early; a story best left to the House epic) but before she left she tried out her new digital camera on Lu.
On October 9th, a cold and dreary autumn day, we finally got to tour the house.
I came straight from work, and Lisa showed up with YaYa. My in-laws were there too, but the lawyer was running late. Given the track record on the house, we were worried we’d be stood up, but he showed up alright.
The house . . oh my. At least the bench on the porch was nice.
Let’s take this more or less in order. The living room was in OK shape, except for hardwood floors that seemed to have been stained only in the middle 3/4th’s of the room, as if an area rug was covering the floor. I still can’t figure that one out.
Then dining room was a more depressing sight. The carpet was quite literally threadbare and held down more by dirt and dust than any adhesive. The scattered remnants of my Uncle’s tenantcy – a cabinet, a jacket press, a globe, books, etc – were stacked willy-nilly in half the room. The walls themselves had peeling paint and there were cracks running along the ceiling and walls.
Both the bedrooms were a whopping 8x8ish in size. The one to the north was home to peeling paint and water damage, while the other showcased a moldy, water damaged closet (the ONLY closet in the house), dirt (snot?) on the wall, and a handmade card taped to the wall that was addressed to my Great Aunt.
She’d passed away 20 or so years ago, btw.
The kitchen . . wow.
Filthy ancient lineoleum, a white porcelein monster of a stove that dated to the 50’s at least, a gigantic pile of boxes and refuse in the center of the room, and a low, country farmhouse style sink.
This cabinet or 'dry sink' was the very one mentioned whenever my Ma's attention turned to the house. It was a favorite of my Great Grandpa's.
Did I mention there were no working utilities, including water, in the house?
Off the kitchen was the bathroom, a hideous conglomeration of bright green ceramic tile, a clawfoot tub that had been boxed in, and a tiled CEILING that was falling down. You know, I just now realized there had been a towel on the rack at the time. Weird.
I think we went downstairs to the basement next.
My in-laws declined to make the journey with us, which (to me) sealed what I believed they thought of the house.
The basement certainly didn’t win me over.
There were two ringer washers as you walked in, with a message written on the wall that read ‘this wire’ (meaning the exposed, fragile looking thing next to the note) ‘ is live when power is on’.
Neat.
There was a giant of a furnace, older than I am, and a fuse box too, a cloth contraption that an electrician would later say couldn't generate enough power to run a modern washing machine or fridge, nor any appliance of worth.
Nearby was the old coal bin, empty of fuel but still home to coal dust, and now a storeroom whose wooden walls were rotting away and whose contents were mold covered and disintegrating.
Then . . . the dungeon.
A cobblestone floor sat between four cream-city brick foundation walls. [for those outside Milwaukee: this town was once famous for cream colored brickwork, of which my basement provided ample evidence].
The wall to the south was bowing and damp to both sight and touch.
The wall to the north was bowing too but was braced by large timbers set against it.
The effect, I’m told, of decades of being so close to a drop forge.
Throughout the room were rusted metal items and decaying wood. Off to a side was the old water closet, now minus a toilet, which too was falling apart. On the wall in front of where the toilet once stood was a tiny ashtray attached to the wall, cig butts still inside.
From there it was on to the second floor, up a surprisingly pleasant orange staircase distinctly marked by pale squares where pictures once hung.
A room was off to the left, the bedroom where my Grandparent’s once lived and where my Mother was probably conceived.
Now it was, to my eyes, horribly water damaged, with SHEETS of paint hanging off the plaster. The best part of it were the boxes of 25 year old S.I’s and Time’s laying around. More than anything, that room nixed the house for me.
The rest of the second floor was unfinished attic; typical floorboards, typical beams overhead. A (relatively) small amount of possessions lay around, including a 1939 calendar still nailed to the wall.
How appropriate for a house stuck in time.
The lawyer, just FYI, didn’t venture past the dining room and did his best to discourage us. It was clear he thought this a waste of time for all of us, and I don’t blame him.
Even the backyard, which prior to the walkthough had seemed so . . well, not good, but manageable, now appeared as it truly was: a madly overgrown lawn and a porch so neglected a small tree was pushing up from beneath the stairs. [note: the first pic of the porch is obviously from a later visit, since it's sans tree]
Afterwards Lis and I began to discuss the house.
"It’s a f*ing dump," I said poetically. "Let’s just take the pics over to my Ma. We’ll do a good deed by letting her see the place again and call it even."
"Really?" she said. "I kind of like the place. I think it has potential."
Let me here note that she once said the same about both me and the future popularity of American Idol. A 50% record is nothing to scoff at, so my ears perked up.
Heck, even my Mother in law turned out to like it.
I still thought she was nuts. It wasa bleeping dump, a travesty, a shame really, and besides, we didn’t have the money for a remodel.
When we got home I called our lender. She said if I wanted it I had two options: getmy family to accept an inflated bid then trust in them to willfully refund the difference for improvements, or apply for a 203K rehab loan.
I told her to get cracking on the 203K, and I put the word out that we were interested in the house.
I think the sellers were shocked, which tells you something about the place’s value, no?
And it was off to the races . . .
My weekend wasn't half bad actually.
A large part of it was spent watching Parker, with LuLu with her Grandma and YaYa either at bday parties or out getting a pedicure with her Mom :)
YaYa had her first soccer game of the year Saturday and let four goals get by when she was goalie, but tried hard.
Saturday we also took the kids to the park. Parker took three wicked shots to the head when he wallked in front of Lu on the swing, and I foolishly tried following Lu down the slide and got my butt stuck for un momento.
I did get some projects done. I primed and painted both exterior doors (with Parker's 'help' - I have a great pic of that), Lis and I put up the handrails on the interior steps, Ijerry-rigged the cellar door, and got Lu's room cleaned. Plus Sunday was a gorgeous day that we spent outside. We got the porch cleaned off (Lord, it's big when clean!) and started some lawn work.
I even got my birdfeeder up! (btw, I saw a hawk in the yard this past week)
* * * *
Oh, Park actually said a complete sentence, or nearly so today: he responded to Lisa by saying "lub you too" which is a feat, considering he says nothing more complicated than 'buh bye' and then only rarely. :)
* * * *
In other rambles, I've learned to appreciate the History Channel and the near constant presence of MLB action on cable, and I bite my tongue when the kids watch Spongebob Squarepants, imho a god-awful show if there ever was one.
I genuinely feel privileged to have watched A-Rod homer twice in a game this weekend, tho' I must admit the whole Red Sox - Yankees rivalry is begining to be a bore. I'd like another East team to step up and join the fight.
The Devil Rays by '09 I'd reckon, but perhaps Toronto this year?
