Office Decorating

Junie took a road trip with me to my office, as I have started to bring in some personal effects to brighten up the place - note the bird clock, moon globe, and Smiley's 2010 Father's Day gift on the top of the bookcase, along with my new (to me) Keurig. 

Sisu

Sisu sucks. 

It's the story of an Finnish ex-commando turned gold prospector who runs afoul of a group of Nazi SS seeking his gold.  If you saw saw the trailers for this foreign film, you'd think it was a high end  John Wick in a historical setting. 

You'd be wrong. 

Let's forget the fact the filmmakers want you to see Finland as an innocent victim of Nazi oppression, when in fact they were allies of Germany before turning on them when the going got rough.  

Let's forget that the main character is a third rate Wick with zero charisma. 

Let's forget that the movie has zero plot.

And let's certainly forget the laws of physics, for in this film a human body is an effective shield against high caliber machine gun fire.

This isn't an escapist romp, it's a horrible waste of your time.

Skip it. I wish I had. 

Bobby Knight

Bobby Knight, the temperamental, controversial - and successful -  basketball coach at Indiana for much of my youth, has died at 83.

RIP

Frank Howard

Frank Howard, the 6'7" outfielder known as "Hondo," died on October 30th at age 87.

While he never reached the level of fame as some of his contemporaries, Howard hit 382 home runs and knocked in 1,119 RBI over a 16 year career. He led the league in home runs twice, once hit 48 in a summer, and notched 40 or more dingers in three consecutive seasons. 

In the mid-80's he would serve as a coach in Milwaukee, but what I remember him for isn't that, or his playing record: I know him from his mentions as a test subject  in The Science of Hitting, the epic hitting manual written by Howard's one time manager, Ted Williams. 

RIP Hondo.

30 Years

Thirty years ago today River Phoenix died of an overdose outside an LA nightclub.

I Hope

I hope whoever Matthew Perry was mentoring through their sobriety can succeed in staying sober. - Lisa

Halloween 2023

Yesterday was our annual Trick or Treat party, diminished in scope and enjoyment by the fact that Lisa was required to work and could not attend, which was a ridiculous development. 

None-the-less, we put on a decent face and went forward. We bought a ton of candy (not featured: the two $20 bags of KitKats and Reece's that someone (born in 1976) ate, depriving the youth of their spoils)

 

Our food included a revolting eye cake, a Frankenstein themed tray of brownies that Sawyer ate before the party, deviled eggs and a cheese and sausage tray Smiley prepared, a fruit and a veggie tray, chips and salsa, and a much smaller pot of chil than our norm. 

Lisa and I paid good money (well, she did) for matching baseball costumes, and I wasn't going to wear mine out of solidarity, but she texted and asked me to put it on: 

At 5, with zero guests on hand, I set out the candy and started giving it out to trick or treaters. 

 

We continued our traditions, which included giving away pencils and other non-candy items as a voluntary option for the kids (one that was chosen far more frequently than you'd think); I gave away WE Energies cookie cookbooks to those who wanted them and had legit interest (again, very popular); we kept a stock of Halloween buckets on hand to give away to young kids who came up with only a grocery bag to trick or treat; and later in the evening we gave away shots of alcohol to parents that stopped by with their kids. 

Then my friend Tre and his family showed up, and I handed over the reigns to Smiley while I went out with them while my Godson trick or treated. 

It's impossible to adequately capture the volume of trick or treaters or the atmosphere of our neighborhood, so all I present to you are a few scant pictures to get a taste of it: 

As for costumes, Smiley was a 70's hipster: 

Junie was a twisted Cupid 

LuLu was a grim reaper 

And YaYa and her boyfriend were characters from Everything Everywhere, All at Once  minus, to their detriment, the sausage fingers, but including the scowls. 

This is Junie's friend Bella

Tre and his wife

My colleague Steven

My grandsloth 

The doggos

    

Back to this guy: at one point, at the height o f the party, with the house full of joy, he calmly says to the room: "Hey. Matthew Perry is dead."

The party ground to a halt. Sorrow and shock settled in, and we spent half an hour commiserating and checking our phones - even Sawyer sensed the mood change and calmly tried to comfort us - while Mr. Buzzkill happily enjoyed his moment in the driver's seat. He did this once before - I have blocked out the memory of the celebrity - by matter of fact-ly telling me a beloved icon had passed. 

Some people's children. SMH. 

(creepy coincidence: only minutes before someone had found and asked me about a Friends statuette I have)

Anyway, aside from Mr. I Ruin Fun, it was as good a party as you can have when the hostess and driving force is absent and many RSVP's were declined. 

Next year, we aim to do it right!