Dude, I'll Trade You a Carl Yastremski for Your Last Beggin' Strip

Today and Sunday are days that remind me of childhood in all of its glory. Currently, we are in the midst of International Dog Biscuit Appreciation Day. One might think that such a holiday were for the dogs. One would be right. After all, dogs, above all living creatures, likely appreciate dog biscuits. However, do they need one day to commemorate that appreciation? Being an amateur scientist, I have been closely observing my dog today. He wags his tail just as actively today as any other when he is offered a treat. He seems to appreciate his biscuits as much today as any other.

Perhaps we should be the species appreciating dog biscuits, after all.  Think about what they allow us to do. Without the biscuit, it would be just that much more difficult to train our dogs to do many of the things that we come to expect them to do. It would be hard to get them to sit. It would be hard to get them to shake. It would be impossible to get them to balance a biscuit on their snouts if we had no biscuits.  In the place of biscuits, we might be forced to offer our dogs small bird carcasses or pieces of rabbit as rewards, and that would just be gross. Who wants to keep a basket of bloody birds and rabbits atop their fridge?

Another segment of the human population appreciates dog biscuits, also. If one were to spend enough time on the Snopes.com message board, one would get the impression that a surprising number of people seem totally cool with eating biscuits and dog food (mostly the wet kind, I infer). Granted this is a segment of the population that spends time posting to the Snopes.com message board to begin with, so they are most likely not a representative segment (one can only hope), but many of them seem almost proud of their predilection for narfing Milk Bones. Hey, man, whatever floats your boat, I suppose.

Regardless of whether or not this is a representative sample of humanity or not, I did mention that the holiday they most admire puts me in mind of my own childhood. The reason being, a friend of mine had a habit of nibbling on his dog’s treats, too. I don’t remember what the brand was, but they came in different colors and shapes that I think were representative of what they were supposed to taste like. The yellow triangles, for instance, were supposed to taste like cheese. If I recall, his reports indicated that there really was little, if any, flavor in them, regardless of the color or shape. I almost wish I still kept in contact with the dude to see if he still likes snacking on bacon-flavored crunchies.

This dog biscuit-eater was also one of the guys I used to spend hours with as a kid trading baseball cards. He used to have a Pabst Blue Ribbon case full of his cards. He was one of the guys who would order a whole set from Topps or Fleer or whatever company was printing cards. I only bought them by the pack, so my collection was not as grand as his, but we spent the bulk of many a summer day drinking lemonade and trading an Al Bumbry for an Oscar Gamble and a Rick Manning. Of course, he’d have to run into the kitchen every now and again to snatch a cheesy puppy bite, but that was no matter. 

That other childhood memory is brought to the front of my mind on account of Sunday’s observation of National Trading Card Day. It is understandable that this is merely a national observance and not an international day. Most likely, the children of France and Vietnam do not spend their early days exchanging pieces of cardboard with pictures of sports heroes on them, but since the concept of the trading card has proliferated, I can envision a future with not only an International Trading Card Day, but also an intergalactic observance, as well. Even in my own trading card trafficking, I watched as the industry moved out of its baseball-centric origins to include football and hockey, and then into movies like Star Wars, Jaws, Grease, and all of the sequels for these films. (Yes, there were Grease 2 trading cards…not that I bought any of them.) Nowadays, I imagine they have trading cards for all manner of thing: WWE, Legos, American Idol. In truth, however, all of this is speculation. It is entirely possible that the trading card industry is dying and being almost single-handedly propped up my forty year old men with plastic-cased cardboard photos of Odibe McDowell in a color-coded three ring notebook.

Whether the trading card industry is alive and well or in the midst of death throes, and whether you appreciate dog biscuits as a consumer or a distributor, I hope this last weekend in February brings you child-like joy. 

How Thinking Leads to Short Bread

“Hop inside while you give it a think.”

--George “Baby Face” Nelson, O Brother Where Art Thou?

Without taking a particular stand on the issue, I report that several states, my current home state included, is currently attempting to pass laws that would prevent Federal gun laws that might be passed from applying in that state. The waste of time in drafting such laws really frustrates me. The issue itself notwithstanding, it appears that these several states that are attempting to draft these laws have forgotten that we fought a Civil War back a hundred and fifty years ago over just these sorts of issues. It has been settled, I thought.

Of course, the question was already settled when the War Between the States was waged. After all, Article II and III of the Constitution declare the supremacy of Federal law and reject the nullification of Federal law by the states, respectively. How on earth anyone legitimately expects that these state laws would pass the Constitutionality test is beyond me, but, like the wife likes to say, you don’t know if you don’t ask. In most cases, I think she’s right.

As a matter of fact, just today I was on the phone with a sales person who was tallying up a bill for me. She quoted me the shipping charge for my order, and I said, “Okay…unless you want to waive that for me.” I don’t usually do that, but, today, I was feeling feisty, I guess. She didn’t waive the fee, but she took off half the cost. It never would have happened had I not thought to ask. Lesson learned.

Today’s feistiness could be the result of the weather system that is passing through. The Weather Channel, in one of the more annoying television weather-related ideas of the last half-dozen years, has decided to name winter storms. Yet again, the nation’s East Coast bias shows, as New England got Winter Storm Nemo a few weeks ago, but we in the Plains get Winter Storm Q. Really. One letter? It’s bad enough TWC is attempting to label storms as some kind of warped marketing ploy, but, if they are going to stoop so low, they might at least stoop low enough to come up with more than one consecutive actual name. They don’t have to slight us flatlanders by laying us with a one-letter storm. At least stick with the cute animation-name theme started with Nemo and give us Winter Storm Q-bert. If they aren’t even going to try, then they ought to just stop. Also, if they are going to be selling t-shirts, I hope they offer at least one long sleeve design. It is February, after all. I think the apparel should match the season.

Whether I will get a t-shirt out of the deal or not, the future is perhaps going to bring us some snow. We haven’t had much out here. Two storms that left about five inches each, a few dustings and squalls, the stray flurry. Winter or not, the drought continues. And a foot or so of snow (should we even get this much) won’t fix much. Don’t mistake me, however, we will take it; I’d prefer a couple of inches of steady rain, followed by a couple more, spaced out enough to prevent flooding. As I ponder the way nature often works out here, in full on feast or famine mode, I suspect I will see a cloud of locusts followed closely by enough rain to put us all in river mud for a month or two as soon as the season breaks. Then again, the only thing you can predict about nature is it’s unwavering unpredictability. I might just get eaten by a mountain lion walking to the grocery store. However, I think not.

Be it a bear or a mountain lion I see on my way to the mercantile, it will more likely be a house cat or a dog in this neck of the woods since the wildest we get around here is a sociopathic squirrel or a rabbit with delusions of grandeur. I do sometimes see a red-tailed hawk in the neighborhood as I drive to work, and I have spotted a screech owl a few blocks from my house. It all depends on how you think of a thing or even where you see it as to whether it is wild or not. A black bear in your back yard is probably considered wild. A flock of penguins at the children’s zoo is most likely not. At least, that is how I think of it.

Friday, be it a snow day or a day of deep adolescent disappointment, has been tabbed as World Thinking Day. Apparently, the origins of World Thinking Day stretch back to a time of prosperity, loosening morality, and home-made booze, but the originators of the day have little to connect them to the Jazz Age. In 1926, at the fourth World Conference of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts, attendees determined that February 22 would be World Thinking Day, a day to express thanks and appreciation for their global entity. Ironically, as far as I think it, February 22 was chosen because it was the birthday of the founder of the Boy Scouts. I don’t know enough about either organization to know why they picked that particular fellow, but it smacks of early-20^th century hegemony. I don’t know if it really is, I just wanted to use the word “hegemony,” thankyouverymuch.

Be that as it may, it was also the birthday of Lord Baden-Powell’s wife, Olave. In 1936, Olave drafted a letter telling all Girl Guides and Scouts that World Thinking Day should be observed as a time of fundraising. I don’t know about you, but when I think of Girl Scouts and fundraising, all I can think about is cookies. I really have not been able to figure out exactly how to connect thinking with an object of so much American mindless eating, but what can I do about it? The fact is, in America, World Thinking Day and Girl Scout cookies are inextricably linked. So, in this month of scrambling to every grocery store to find the last box of peanut butter tag-a-longs, don’t forget to give your brain a little bit of exercise as well. What do you think about that?

One Realization That Leads to Another

Today is the Feast of Epiphany, according to Western Christians. According to Wikipedia, the feast day commemorates not only the arrival of the Magi in Bethlehem, but the “revelation of God the Son as a human being in Jesus Christ.” I’ll buy the Magi’s arrival; it’s the manifestation of God part that stretches the date’s credibility. Not that there is anything wrong with it. It just isn’t for me.

The same Wikipedia page has a link to the page for “Epiphany (feeling).” Which credits James Joyce for possibly coining the usage of epiphany to mean “an experience of sudden and striking realization.” His stories in The Dubliners all involve characters coming to some realization that alters their view of themselves or the world around them. It is conceivable that large doses of beer and whiskey may have had something to do with those “striking realizations.” Interestingly, for me, anyway, the author of this particular page also equates William Burroughs’ Naked Lunch as a terminology of epiphany, as well. How do Christians feel about having a word so closely associated with the first big feast day of the year secularly implying “drug-influenced state(s)” and beer-soaked revelations? Then again, the Magi brought gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Frankincense and myrrh are both popular for use in incense, and we know who burns most of the incense, don’t we? Let’s just say many of us stop “burning incense” when we get out of college.

Perhaps, in a related vein, back in 1974, Tom Scholz was burning incense when he had an epiphany in his basement in 1974, and the song “More Than a Feeling” manifested itself in his mind. Boston, my favorite band EVER, released the song on their 1976 debut. I am certainly not trying to equate Tom Scholz with the Son of God. Nor am I implying that “More Than a Feeling” is a song of anything more than mild musical significance. It just happens to be where my mind took me on this particular intellectual exercise.

Maybe more significantly, today is also the birthday of Jeanne d’Arc, according to some sources. Being an inveterate skeptic, I suspect that her birthday is more than likely not on January 6. It just seems too coincidental that the day that the (arguably) second most famous Christian martyr (sorry John, the Baptist) was born on the same day as the manifestation of the first most famous martyr as a human being. Then again, if one negates the manifestation of the Son of God thing (see paragraph one), Joanie’s birthday is a bit easier to swallow. At any rate, Joan was a fascinating young woman--most likely delusional, but fascinating nonetheless. And without her inspiring and tragic tale, we would not have one of the most beautiful silent films ever (The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)) nor one of the best-known Smiths songs (“Big Mouth Strikes Again”). Granted one might argue that the Smiths couldn’t have written that song without the invention of the Walkman, either. You might also argue that they might have written the song even without the allusion to Joan (or a Walkman), but that just wouldn’t be the same song, would it. At any rate, wouldn't it be sad if the Smiths were most well-known simply for "Girlfriend in a Coma." Seriously.

Most unfortunately, however, today is the final day of Winter Break for kiddos in this neck of the woods. Tomorrow, we will be back to shaping young minds. And I hope to find more time to keep up with this blog, albeit with a new focus. Instead of Central Standard's traditional, unfocused, hard to maintain ramble from random thought to random thought, I hope to focus on today's tone of edification and the loose division of fact and opinion to create a regular discussion of topical current and historical events.  If anyone has any ideas for topics, leave a shout in the comments.

Thanks for stopping by!

Like Getting Married All Over Again

I have written about three versions of what went down this weekend, when the Long Haulers came to visit. Nothing captures what really went down. So, I have decided that, rather than twist in the scrivening wind a fourth time, I will simply give you a bullet pointed version of the weekend.

--Meeting Melissa and Tom on Friday at Bread and Cup was great fun. They seemed really interesting and interested. It was easy and enjoyable to talk to them. I was actually excited about Saturday after meeting them on Friday. (Honestly, I was not super excited before then...it was more like a sort of low-level dread.)

--Saturday morning was one of those "What the %^$# did I get myself into?" mornings. The ease that I felt after Friday had dissipated in the night, and I began to feel a bit nervous again.

--Tom and Melissa had some camera issues on Saturday morning. They arrived later than expected, and while Tom set up in the living room, Monkey and Melissa walked about the house, while Melissa filmed the tour. Then, Monkey and I went out back and did some "everyday stuff," like playing ball with the mutts and reading the paper, for the sake of getting some "couple doing everyday stuff" footage. I picked a tomato. After a little while, that feeling of comfort and well-being returned and the nerves went away.

--The "interview" was great. It went kind of long (multiple hours), but it was awesome to talk with Monkey about us. Something we don't really do that much. We even learned some stuff from years ago that we didn't know about each other...how cool is that?

--The dogs were awesome. Parker bumped the cameras a couple of times, and he may have put a paw on the computer keyboard a few times (I don't think to any detrimental effect), but, for the most part, they just sacked out for the day.

--After the interview, we sat in the dining room and had a beer and just talked about stuff (Truly, even when I lecture all day (which I rarely do) I don't think I talk as much as I talked on Saturday.). Monkey suggested we all go out for dinner again. Tom and Melissa were up for it. We met at Yia Yia's for pizza.

--Dinner Saturday night was great, too.

--Overall, an experience that I didn't really expect to be great turned out to be 100 times more than that. First, it was an extreme pleasure to meet and hang out with two great people. But, even more so, it was so wonderful to spend almost a whole day just focusing on my marriage with Monkey. It occurs to me that talking about our marriage this past Saturday was, in a way, as beautiful and awesome as getting married on that Saturday almost a dozen years ago.

Thanks, Melissa and Tom for both opportunities.

Hey, Woody and Buzz, Come Fix My Roof!

Don't let the rain come down
My roof's got a hole in it and I might drown.
--Serendipity Singers, "Don't Let the Rain Come Down"

Sometimes, a forty-one year old man can fool himself into thinking he is still a kid. It doesn't last for long, but there are those moments: the first day of vacation, an unexpected bout of inclement weather that keeps him from work, an exceptional ice cream cone on a hot day. These moments are quite valued, even by the most cynical and serious among us. Even a dour old coot like Ebeneezer Scrooge had a little bit of the child hidden deep within his Grinchy heart (an oddly mixed, seasonally inappropriate analogy, but, like a petulant six year old, I don't care).

Yesterday, Monkey and I went to see Toy Story 3 (2d). It was a wonderful, sentimental, exciting story, as you might expect. Disney's involvement notwithstanding, I enjoyed the film, and was even, perhaps, a bit touched by the picture's more maudlin moments. Afterward, we walked a few blocks to a favorite ice cream shop (where Monkey is apparently a Facebook celebrity (or nuisance...I couldn't exactly tell)), and spent an exquisite ten minutes sitting on a bench in the Haymarket, eating Peanut Butter Marshmallow and Pumpkin Praline sugar cones. The day was rather pleasant temperature-wise, which made the sitting outside all the more enjoyable, and, even on break, the sense of decadence brought about by a movie and an ice cream cone enjoyed on a Tuesday afternoon is undeniable and awesome.

But, days like today conspire to remind one that thirteen was a long time ago, and real life is always just around the corner to smack him into adulthood. During a recent spat of late Spring/early Summer rain, it was made clear that our roof has lost its integrity. There are three obvious spots (all on the first floor) where water has gotten into the house. Two of those three spots are brownish water spots, which, given much more opportunity (i.e., more rain) might develop into actual into-the-living-room drippers. The problem of pooled water above our heads notwithstanding, I am glad that these spots did not actively leak into our house. It saved us some pandemonium. However, there is a spot on the kitchen that left a bit of splish-splash on the floor. And, I am grateful for that. It convinced Monkey and I that we shouldn't wait any longer. We contacted a roofer for an estimate today. (Yeah, I know, we waited a bit longer...well....)

This is when the adult world really sucks, of course. A roof is going to cost a lot of money. And Monkey and I were just congratulating ourselves on the fact that we had been doing such a good job of setting aside money to put in the savings account every month. This isn't exactly why we were socking cash away, but I am glad we have it when we need it.

Now, to protest the ensuing five figure price tag that I am anticipating, I am going to go eat a Popsicle and submerge my feet in a kiddy pool. Anybody wanna come over?

***Grammar Note: The word "popsicle" is capitalized. It is a brand name of a kind of ice pop. In the same way that Band-Aid and Kleenex are brand names that have been adopted as the general name of the product that they refer to, so Popsicle. I did not know that.

The One

Every year at True/False, Monkey and I immerse ourselves in the doc film world. Ten to twelve movies each festival give us plenty to think about afterward. Each year we try to determine which films we liked most and least. Sometimes we disagree. This year, we are in total agreement.

Of course, to say one film was the "best" is perhaps incorrect, or, at best, imprecise. Each of the films was excellent in its own way, and, paradoxically, the one film we both ranked as our favorite is probably the one we'd be least likely to want to see again.

Restrepo was the most moving, intense, awful, amazing film we saw. It deals with a unit in a most dangerous front line position in Afghanistan. As a piece of journalism, it follows a long tradition of front line reporting, but it is told by the soldiers, and effectively interspersed with interviews done several weeks or months after the soldiers had finished their deployments. This gives the film a sense of immediacy and thoughtfulness, as the men who experience what you are witnessing then reflect back upon it. It is haunting and heartbreaking. It is an awesome piece of film, and terrible in its beauty. I recommend it to everyone, not because you need to be entertained by this film, but because you need to be enlightened by it.

True/False Before the Madness

Monkey and I met Uncle Joe for sushi last night. It was awesome. Not only was hanging with the biggest dog lover in Missouri (if not the world) a great joy, but the sushi at Osaka was top notch. It made all of the rushing around yesterday in order to get out of town by 4pm worth it. Once again, comoprozac and RAD are being kind enough to put us up for the weekend.

It's pretty busy around (The District). T/F volunteers are ubiquitous, and there seems to be an anticipatory buzz in the air. Also in the air is a bit of warmth that I have not experienced since before December. It is nice to be in a place that doesn't have six inches of snow and ice on the ground, a place where the sun actually seems to warm the air.

In a few hours, we will be meeting up with some old friends for a beverage, before making our way to Monkey's favorite Indian restaurant. After that, we have the opening night film, and another after that. Then, it's really on!

I am looking forward to it.

It's Tuesday. It's Dark. It's Snowing.

Snow day is drawing to a close. Spent the day reading, sitting by the fire, shoveling the drive way--you know, those sorts of snow day things. Monkey and I are currently watching AWAY WE GO (Monkey has taken a snack break). No word on tomorrow, but I expect we'll be back to school tomorrow.

*****NEWS FLASH*****

Monkey just checked the LPS website, and they just posted that we have NO SCHOOL tomorrow! This is unbelievable. Awesome. Troublesome when we finally do get back to school, but we shall let that simmer until Thursday.

And now, back to the video.

Honing My Skills

After some reconsideration yesterday morning (" a lot of strands in the old Duder's head"), I went out front to revisit the scene of the basement flood's origin. Here's what caused me to reconsider my thinking of this case: it wasn't the south wall that was leaking, it was the west wall. So, the blowing wind wasn't a factor in the cause at all (I am really bad with directions, especially when I am underground, like in a basement).

And what did I find while out conducting my second investigation? I found that all of the down spouts on that side of the house had become disconnected. All the water from the gutters was pouring down the side of the house, insinuating itself between the foundation and the soil, and then seeping through the wall. With all the rain we had on Friday and Saturday night, it's a wonder the house didn't rise up on a sheet of water and float away.

And, so, with a bit of wet work, reconnecting down spouts and crawling through wet grass and bushes, it appears that I have solved that edition of CSI: Homeowners' case. How am I certain? Well, because for the third night in a row, Monkey and I were stirred by late night thunderstorms, and this morning, there is no new water in the basement!

The End is Nigh

Thursday is the last of the dreaded parent-teacher conference nights. After that, four more weeks of pedagogical bliss, a round of exams, a round of golf, and it's summer time.

Sometimes, people ask if I would ever teach summer school. My response? "HELL NO!" I mean, one of the biggest perks of the job is that nine weeks or so (it's actually getting shorter every year) that I get to spend puttering, taking a trip or two, and just hanging out with Monkey. I understand that some teachers choose to teach summer school for financial reasons, and maybe one or two of them actually do it because they like it...MAYBE. But most of them are doing it because they have to, like Mark Harmon. Well, maybe that's a bad example...or maybe not.

Anyway, I am counting down the weeks at this point. Soon, I'll be counting down the days.

Things We Did In April

Last Saturday, Monkey and I attended a pair of films that were shown as part of the Blacks in Film Festival at the university. Hip Hop: Beyond Beats and Rhymes was an interesting look at misogyny, homophobia, and hyper-masculine attitudes in modern hip-hop. With interview subjects ranging from Chuck D. to members of the Spelman College student government (who rescinded a campus invitation to Nelly over issues with his music and videos), the film was an entertaining and eye-opening look into the collective psychology of hip-hop, both as a culture and as a commodity. After that, we stuck around for WattStax, a documentary on the 1972 WattStax concert at LA Coliseum to celebrate the anniversary of the 1965 Watts riots. A blend of man-on-the-street interviews, Richard Pryor improv, and concert footage, the film was a stellar document of a place and time. However, the issues that were addressed in the film, pride, poverty, and economic empowerment, are still issues that America is grappling with today.

The weekend prior, we were invited to an Easter potluck at a friends house. It was a pleasure to have some ham. Monkey and I hadn't had a proper Easter dinner in ten years. I still didn't get any Easter pie, though. But, that's only because I didn't make any.

The weekend before that, I scored district writing assignments. Whoo Hoo!

And, on Wednesday of that week, Monkey and I headed out to Omaha for some sushi and The Hold Steady. The sushi was top-notch. The Hold Steady were good also. But, with a very crowded Slowdown pumping their fists and throwing beer cans, I kind of wished I was seeing them three years ago at Mojo's.

Does that make me one of those people? The ones who say, "Oh, but I liked them better when...." I guess it does. Oh, well.

The Excitement Continues

I was remiss in keeping all up to date on the doings of myself and the Monkey over the last fortnight or so. The weekend prior to this just past, Monkey House Nebraska was headquarters for the Minnesota Ambassadors' Baby Birthday Ramble. Arriving late on Friday night, the Ambassadors took to the guest room bed of Monkey House Nebraska for a snooze, before some coffee and a damn-good scone in the morning. The Monkeys also enjoyed some Chines and vino with various friends and family of the Ambassadors. Sunday was departure day, after a bagel and coffee downtown. Fortunately, in three short weeks, we will be returning the favor as the Monkeys head to Minneapolis-St. Paul for the opening round of the NCAA regionals (which coincides with my Spring Break!)

This past weekend, as you know, Monkey and I headed back to the ol' stompin' grounds for T/F 09. I will spare you recaps of all the films (a dozen), but, I will say that I felt that this was perhaps the best fest yet. Monkey and I did not feel rushed between films (except once), we felt the films were highest-caliber (except one), I thought the music was spectacular (no exceptions), and, while it was perhaps the coldest True/False, yet, the snow held off and the weather was generally good for walking about. We also found additional time this year for stompin' on the ol' stompin' grounds. It was, as it always is, an exquisite pleasure to spend time with folks I truly miss having in my life on a daily basis. Every time I go back to CoMo, I get a little homesick. This was no exception. Driving out of town on Monday morning was a melancholy moment.

I believe that is all for now.

My Anonymity Remains Intact

This week is shaping up to be a big one for the Monkeys, let me tell ya. First, I just spent the better part of an hour making three pounds of pasta. Three different kinds, all in one pot (i.e., in succession), for tomorrow's food day at school. We have a food day about once a month, organized by one of our colleagues to celebrate birthdays and such. Now, this is not to say that on other days we don't have food. We always seem to have food. But, on these special monthly days, we all pitch in to have a themed feast. This month, it's pasta. And, I am the preparer of the pasta.

Add to that, the fact that I will be taking off from work on Friday AND Monday. This is unprecedented for me. It is usually all I can do to make myself take one day off to accommodate travel, but two? It's simply decadent. I am freaking out, but, most likely, all will be well in my absence.

Of course, the big thing, the thing that is prompting this Four day weekend, is CoMo's annual True/False Film Festival. Monkey and I are heading back to the Education Capital of Missouri, home of the first land grant university west of the Mississippi, to partake of our usual bill of a dozen or so documentaries.

Looking forward to several (really all), but, to name a few in particular: War Against the Weak, and Waltz with Bashir. The film I might be most looking forward to, I don't even have a ticket for, yet: Loot. It seems that for each festival, Monkey and I want to see something different on Sunday morning. This year is no different, but, in order to facilitate our ticket purchasing, we just bought two tickets to the film she wanted to see, and I will stand in the queue for mine. I expect no problems.

I could give you a run down of the films I just mentioned, but that would be redundant, since you could simply go here to read about anything festival. Plus, at this time, I REALLY should go grade at least a half dozen essays.

In Others' Words

I have been away, my friends. In proximity, I have been no more distant than usual, I admit. In my heart, in my mind, however, I think I have been far, far away. What brings me to this place of being and not-being? If only I knew. But, here's what I have been thinking.

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

This from William Wordsworth. I have been thinking that the world is too much with me. It's not an overly materialistic quality that is with me; it is not that "getting and spending" have laid my powers to waste. But, I am too much wrapped up in the matters of the world that matter to me, namely my job, and it is driving me to distraction. It is a familiar lament you have heard from me, but those several students collected in my mind, those ungraded assignments pooled in the corners of my stacks of "to do," those impending conferences penciled inevitably on my calendar seem to have a stranglehold on me right now. Too often Monkey has to ask if I am okay, as I stand by the stove pouring a cup of tea with a far off look on my face. In some ways it is just the price of doing business, but, in my more gloomily reflective moments, I wonder if I can pedal through these recurring swales of dread (for that is more than half what they are) for many more seasons.

Then again, maybe I just need it to be Spring, and fast!

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.

This from HD Thoreau. Why this metaphysical crisis? [He shrugs.] Does he think there is something else out there for him to be doing? [He yawns.] Is there something that has been brewing somewhere in his creative soul? Something that he feels all mankind needs to hear or see or read in order to complete their lives? [He blinks.] Is there a song in there that has yet to be sung? [He smiles.] Why is he writing about himself in the third person? [He exits.]

++++++++++

I thought to regale you last week with the line up of films Monkey and I will be seeing at CoMo's T/F at the end of the month, but I didn't. And I thought I'd give you an hour by hour recap of my snow day on Friday, but I didn't. Then I thought I'd make a big deal out of the start of Spring Training, but no. This is what you get. I hope it was worth the wait.

Steering a course for clearer skies ahead.

Central Standard Guide to What's In for 2009

As a highly sought after arbiter of taste, it is my duty to keep my readership aware of the most trendy things for the new year. After all, who wants to be seen wearing last year's beard, or an outdated button-down Oxford? Who wants to visit the greasy spoon that is so declasse (I have no idea what that means)? Or listen to unpopular music from the 90s...omg!

So, I will spend the month of December irregularly updating you on what is in for the coming new year, and what is out from the old year. Let us begin.


IN: Spain

Monkey and I are in love with Tempranillo, a hot Spanish wine. Had we any money in reserve, we would be off to Seville, Barcelona, Madrid, in a heart beat, truly living the Hemingway-esque expatriate life. Alas, it is not to be. Last year's boffo trip to Italy put us out of the running for any but domestic travel (and that, mostly by auto) for the foreseeable future. But, until we are uncorking some fine Spanish wine on the shores of the Mediterranean, this is the place to WANT to be.

OUT: Italy

Mi dispiace, Italia. However, that was sooo last year.

IN: 40

It's the new 20! How many MIPs can I rack up before I turn 41?

OUT: 30s, 20s, teens, tweens, toddlers, infants, newborns

As Tony's boss tells him in Saturday Night Fever: "You don't fuck the future. The future fucks you."

Stay tuned for more....

Weekend News from the Plains

We had our first snow of the season on Friday. Mere flurries, but the accompanying temperatures were cold, cold, cold. The wind didn't help much, either. Monkey and I stayed in and watched some DVRed TV. House, I think. And something else I can't remember. I must say, I'm getting a bit tired of this show. (House, I mean.) It's awfully predictable, and the main character has evolved from an intriguing curmudgeon to a full-fledged dick. So much for dynamic characters!

Saturday was nasty cold, too. So cold that a couple hundred students neglected to attend the Husker game versus Kansas at 1:30. Game time temps were in the low 30s, but, the last time I checked, this was Nebraska, where everybody is so proud of their rabid attachment to the scarlet and cream. And their staying home because it's too cold? Please. I find this to be an indication that maybe the vaunted Husker mystique is becoming a myth...after only four years of mediocrity. I have to think that people in Columbia are more dedicated. Even when that team stunk outright, when a win against the then-hapless Jayhawks was cause for tearing down the goal posts and carting them through the streets of town to Harpo's, the students packed their sections. At least until halftime. I hope this isn't a trend here in Huskerland, because once they lose their football rep, well, they ain't got much else.

Anyway, I raked some leaves (I compost them, by the way), we ran some errands, and we spent the afternoon reading by the fire. How pleasant is that. We went out for dinner and a movie Saturday night. Some BBQ and Appaloosa. I had a beer for the first time in two weeks--it was lovely, if only a Boulevard (limited selections). And, while the movie was not bad, the most intriguing thing about it, to me, was Viggo Mortenson's tonsorial choices--very period.

Today, I am hacking up a lung after playing basketball for the first time since the recent unpleasantness. I am taking it as a sign of recovery. What shall the rest of the evening hold...? Well, the possibilities are nearly endless, aren't they?

So, I Got That Going For Me (Which Is Nice)

After three harrowing days of being back to work, I find that there is at least one thing that perhaps all laborers might agree with. There is nothing like a work week to make one appreciate the weekend. Since June 2, I have watched the calendar roll along with little regard for where I was in the flow of the week. What is Sunday, after all, when Monday is an off day? Is there an intrinsic difference between Friday and Wednesday that gives it a different feeling? For me, the answer is, not when you're off the clock!

But, perhaps, after a period of time, this blissful temporal ignorance loses its bliss. Maybe, after nine weeks of waking up and thinking, "What day is this?" one feels as if something is missing. This, as I may have mentioned before, has been an awesome summer, so, I don't really feel like I am overly vacationed. I could go on for a few more weeks, maybe. However, the beginnings of that ennui was raising its head. I was sensing an inkling of impending blah-ness.

Yet, here I am, after just three days of work, genuinely excited for the newly arrived weekend! Now, I don't expect any sympathy for my "predicament." I don't deserve any. I know many of you would love to be in my shoes from June through August (but maybe wouldn't dig the September to May part, but that is a-whole-nother story (as they used to say back home)). But, it's nice to feel that "Friday high" again. Stay tuned for an upcoming entry on the "Sunday crash."

Spotted a great blue heron on the shores of the pond near the YMCA this fine, cool morning, along with about a dozen geese that are laying waste to the trail. It's nice to see the geese, I just wish they'd keep their business in the grass. The friendly morning people theory is still being successfully tested. Come on Afternooners! I hope you're not the kind of stupid people who eat monkeys.

Sitting Still and Marching North

What a weekend! Thursday and Friday were wonderful, affording us the opportunity to catch up with a few of the Old School Crew, consume some excellent sushi, drink some cheap beer, and dig Mucca Pazza leading a crew down Columbia's Broadway. After a dinner of tikka masala on Friday, film watching began in earnest.

The festival was spread far and wide this year, employing several Stephens College venues in addition to the regular downtown spots. Several festival goers agreed that the organizers would do well to maintain the added venues in the future. Even with the re-opening of the Missouri Theatre, the extra spots would afford many more the opportunity to see films. Of course, that's one man's opinion.

Friday's first film Forbidden Lies was a fabulous start. The subject of the film, a woman who seems to blur the line between truth and fiction as a way of life, could practically be a poster child for the idea behind the entire film festival. It was great.

The second film of the night, Joy Division didn't do much for me. Overall, I felt like the premise of the film, that Joy Division's rise to fame was a driving force in the rebirth of their hometown of Manchester, was never really proved. I can't help being an English teacher, I guess.

Saturday, after some croissant and coffee at the new Uprise, it was full steam ahead, as Monkey and I took in six films from 10 am to midnight. The day's first film was haunting, captivating, tragic, and beautiful. Stranded, the story of the 1972 plane crash of a Uruguayan rugby team, which left them stuck high in the Andes for 72 days. They resorted to cannibalism to survive. The focus of the film, while telling the tale as it occurred, is really on the men today, some 35 years later, and how they have dealt with the tragedy. One particular moment in the film gave me chills. Monkey was moved to tears. Awesome.

Also on Saturday, we caught one of our least favorite films in the history of the festival. That's quite an honor, I guess. The Mosquito Problem, a quirky look at life in Belene, Bulgaria, was too long, too quirky, and bereft of focus. And, it appeared that Monkey and I were not alone in our assessment of this one, as people evacuated the Big Ragtag theatre (hooray for the new space!) in droves as the film wore on.

Sunday, we had plans for three more films, but after two, we decided it was a good idea to hit the road. It was a beautiful day, but the forecast was looking dim. We hit the road at about 3, got into some rain in KC, and drove through drizzles and torrents as we made our way up I-29.

Turning off of 29, we noticed ice hitting the windshield, and it got worse from there, as the ice turned to wind-driven snow that made Monkey and I realize how pioneers once got lost in these blizzards. It took us forty-five minutes to travel twenty miles, as semis blew by us, sloshing the car with torrents of slushy ice. About twenty miles east of Lincoln, the snow stopped, the roads cleared, adn it was like we had been driving in a bad dream. We made it home by 8:30, but the drive had wiped me out. It was a great weekend, with an exciting and harrowing end, and I shuffled up the stairs and went to bed.

Rolling South, Again

In about an hour, Monkey and I (and Ripken Ozark) will be loading up the Penguin and heading for CoMo. The annual True/False Film Festival is this weekend, and, fortuitously, my school is not holding classes today, due to the state girls' basketball turnament. So, I decided, reluctantly, as always, to take Friday off, and Monkey and I are making a long weekend of it.

We are slated to see about ten movies (maybe eleven--I don't quite recall), from Friday evening to late Sunday afternoon, then it's back home to Lincoln. I expect we will be mostly worn out on Monday, but, it will be worth it.

I expect I will be telling you all about it in March. Enjoy tomorrow's Leap Day!

Looking Forward and Forward and Forward

This weekend, Monkey and I are having a housewarming-type party (Finally! some might say).The guest list is around thirty, and Monkey and I are a bit nervous. We have never entertained so many people. Well, except at our wedding, but that was different. We've always lived in such small places before, that after you put a half dozen people inside, it was a full house. Not that we live in some palatial estate, now, but, it can fit a few more people. We are excited to have a party, of course.

We're also excited to be going back to Omaha on Monday night to see Drive By Truckers. They are playing at the same place that Daniel Johnston played a few weeks ago. Monday night shows are a bit of a hassle, especially when they are an hour away, but, I am looking forward to it.

But, what I am really looking forward to is the True/False Film Festival next weekend in CoMo. It will be somewhat strange being a visitor in a place I called home for many years, but I am looking forward to it with great eagerness. I look froward to seeing great films. I look forward to walking familiar streets that may not be quite as familiar anymore. I look forward to seeing some friends. It will be a good weekend. And, I am taking Friday off, so, it will be a long weekend. Hooray!