Slice of Life

Aware and Appreciative of a Benefit

The definition of "thankful."

The route I take home from my new yoga class every night brings me through this busy intersection, and every night there is the same man standing at the same corner, staring blankly into a long line of cars, holding a sign that reads:  HELP - HUNGRY.  LEFTOVERS WILL DO.  I've heard every opinion as to what societal factors may have brought this individual to this particular street corner, as well as those opinions as to why someone should or should not give this man some type of assistance.  Whatever this man's upbringing, whatever tough luck came his way or bad decisions he made, his life today is beyond humble.  The flannel shirt he was wearing was either blue or brown, one would have a difficult time determining which due to the weathering it experienced, and the blue jeans were hardly blue at all, covered with dirt, worn from life.  So the other night after I drove past him and into a gas station the next block down the street, I knew that the red Gatorade, bag of combos and half a dozen slim jims I was going to bring back to him were either enabling him to continue to stand on that same street corner or helping someone in a jam, or both.  I doubted that in the hour preceding his decision to return to the corner to display his cardboard announcement to the world that he was hungry - so hungry that even discarded scraps would do - he debated whether he should spend a few hours on a busy street corner begging for food or take his laptop to the nearest Starbucks, grab a mocha, and google different resume templates so that he could put the finishing touches on his own.

He had to have known something was up when the black civic with green license plates performed the most illegal u-turn in the history of bad driving in the middle of his busy intersection and pulled up to his curb, the passenger side window coming down.  I motioned him to come over and he ran to the door, putting his sign in between his legs so that he could reach his hands into the car and take that night's answer.  As I told him to take care of himself, his hands were shaking and he simply said, "Thank you, friend, ohhh, thank you so much, friend."  After darting away, I watched him turn a metal post for a bus stop sign into a dining room chair and the weathered grass and leaves on the median his table.  Thankful, indeed.

There are many benefits in my life for which I am appreciative, but many others for which I am barely aware.  It is this latter group of benefits that I will give particular appreciation for this Thanksgiving.  And I hope you will, too.

Tame Enough to Reprint

Many, many other pictures have been viewed once and immediately destroyed.  My two favorites include my boy Mark making yet another move on my lady, and one of me and the boys.

Mad props to the Jogger for his phenomenal work with the camera throughout the weekend, including the late night debacle that was Ri Ra.  As a Simon and Garfunkel song goes (which said song was blaring for much of the weekend, incidentally), "I've got nothing to do today but smile."  I am smiling, still.

The Football Gods are Smiling Upon Me

Wow, what a game.  We're talking the best sport going of course, football, and my good fortune last Saturday evening put me front row on the field behind the south endzone with three of my closest friends and most favorite people in the world as No. 17 ranked Boston College hosted No. 8 ranked Florida State in BC's inaugrual game in the ACC.  The game was part of a blowout night of festivities for a good friend's 30th birthday celebration.  As if the atmosphere wasn't electric enough, ESPN College Gameday was there and during halftime the crew set up their desk about ten feet from where I was standing.  Incredible, absolutely incredible.  And as I walked into the stadium for kickoff I walked by some young co-ed being hauled into an ambulance on the meatwagon, passed out cold.  Ahhh, alcohol.

Certainly I'm biased, but there simply is no other event that matches the pre-game tailgater before a college or pro football game.  There just isn't.  I have heard that NASCAR events are pretty fun, if you're into a jeans-and-wife-beater-pass-the-Budweiser-turn-up-the-country-music type thing, but there is something special about the day-long festivities that are college football games.  Everyone is decked out in their team's colors and gear.  Everyone.  Thus leading to lots of banter back and forth between opposing groups as they pass each other in the parking lot or make their appearance at a local bar.  The smells bowl you over as you walk around each particular tailgating section:  most of the time it is the smoke billowing off a grill from the usual fare of bugers and dogs, but every now and again there is the pimped out tailgater doing some Italian sausage, ribs, or the like.  The flags hanging high from various campers or trucks, usually the team's colors but every now and again the random skull-and-crossbones or fraternity/sorority flag.  And the drinking, my goodness the drinking.  The roped off areas encompassing the stadium parking lot makes it like a little Mardi Gras, and if you happen to be empty-handed, a pat on the back and friendly smile will take care of that in a heartbeat.  In the dozen or so games I've attended in the past few years the only real difference I can see between the college game and the pro game is the youth at the college tailgaters, as most of the fans are energetic college kids blowing off steam in a big way in preparation for the big game.  It just brings a smile to my face the entire time I'm there.  Everyone is happy and essentially it's a day-long celebration of the best life has to offer.  There just isn't anything else like it, not even close.

Front row, south endzone to boot.  Thank you, football gods.

And happy 30th, J.

My Favorite Season

Lots of glum faces these days with some leaves starting to turn red and orange here and there and the passing of Labor Day weekend, pretty much signifying the official end to summer.  I'm almost shocked at how fast this summer went, so much so that it doesn't even seem like it's fall.  I suppose it isn't fall officially but it is.

I don't really get my panties in a bunch when Labor Day comes and goes because it means that my Saturdays and Sundays are spent on a couch watching college and pro football (participating in 2 fantasy leagues this year and I have some killer teams).  Definitely helps I've been on sabbatical the past 4 months, but even in the past I'm anxious for fall to get going.  Starting the day off with an egg and cheese bagel sandwich at the local shop is money.  (What a feeling several months ago as I walked in and one of the girls behind the counter proclaimed, "It's our favorite customer!")  Hitting the gym mid-morning to pound out 8 or 9 miles on the mill kicks things off and it's a great start to the day, but in my mind it's a great start to the week because I mentally tell myself that my workout week begins on Saturday, so I customarily start off 2 for 2 and the majority of the time it carries over into Monday and Tuesday.  Cool breezes running through my place when I'm on the couch tucked under my green blanket with a frozen pint glass of suds less than an arms length away is status quo for the remainder of each day, with me getting up every 5 minutes on Sunday to run to the computer to check the score of my fantasy squad and curse/praise whoever is underperforming/overachieving.  Grilling.  Usually burgers on Saturday and some type of yummy meat or fish on Sunday, getting just a tad bit warm standing over the grill then coming inside in between flips to cool off or sometimes get the chills from the tiny beads of sweat that have popped out on my forehead.  Of course there are tiny deviations from this routine every now and again:  a car wash if needed, a run outside if a sweatshirt and windpants keep me toasty, subs delivered from down the street if I don't feel like grilling.  All of these things are some of my very most favorite activities in the world, and so when I see the leaves start to change it signifies a very relaxing time of the year for me.

Percolating in the Hopper

I still can't fucking believe what happened tonight.  When the scenario was unfolding smack dab in the middle of my reality I do remember thinking, "100% bloggable."  Gorgeous.  Just gorgeous.

The skinny:  Condo Association "open meeting" where people were encouraged to gripe about the recent landscaping project, the upcoming paving project, and a host of other ridiculous items that stunned me as to how illogical and short-sited people can be.  Oh yeah and it ended in an argument where the crazy guy of the association just out of the blue started calling Wife a "mole" and being "buried" at our end of the Association and "not being involved."  (Although there was a wonderful roundabout discussion regarding whether certain yards are "theirs" or "yours" because technically its common area.  Anyway.)  With respect to the ending, let me just tell you this:  I have never in my life been this excited about a blog entry.  I have never in my life been this at one about the decision to throw shit right back in someone's face and markedly more insultingly.  Classic.  Fucking classic ass material here.

I'm starting off with some brainstorming as to possible titles.  Too much.  Just way too much material.  The short list:

1. Won't You be My Neighbor?
2. This Land is Your Land, This Land is My Land
3. Over the Shoulder Boulder Holders
4. The Empire Strikes Back
5. Bitch Be Cool!
6. 'Yeah.  Well.  You're independently wealthy.'
7. Tips for Young Attorneys:  Why Documenting Shit That Happens is Good
8. It Got Weird, Didn't It
9. Apparently His Wife is a Miserable Twat Like We Maybe Thought
10. Ending on a High Note

You won't believe the high note I ended on.  Hollywood couldn't have done it better.  "You're a mole."  Unreal.

How to Have Fun at a Wedding

Act like my brother, pictured here last week successfully executing the "tri-pod" on the middle of the dance floor.

Another Lil' Somethin' Somethin'

Download 06_new_slang.m4p

It's okay to cry.

Quotation of the Day

Courtesy of Along Came Polly:

It's not about what happened in the past, or what you think might happen in the future.  It's about the ride, for Christ's sake.  There is no point in going through all this crap, if your are not going to enjoy the ride.  And you know what... when you least expect something great might come along.  Something better then you even planned for.

My Favorite TV Show

Without question The Amazing Race.  I know I'd take it home in that show if paired up with the right person.  I'd be so laid back and easy to travel around the world with in a fast-paced, cut throat competition for half a million bucks.  My team would be a fan favorite, no doubt.

My Favorite Day

Okay.  Pardon me if my grammar isn't up to par, but I'm about 6 bloody marys and 3 glasses of red wine into the day.  This is my favorite day of the year, and this Thanksgiving has been another good one.  God Bless America.

I'm in Sunapee, New Hampshire, at my folks place.  It's my parents, me, Wife and Brother.  What a mix.  This week I was in contact with Brother 4 times.  All e-mails.  I don't think I responded to him once.  One of my good friends once described my younger brother as follows:  "He's exactly like you, Rich.  Only louder."  So this week, I received the following 4 e-mails from my brother:  1)  "Hey.  Bar is opening early this Thursday."  2)  "Bloody marys at 10:00 a.m."  3)  "Don't forget to bring some **** down with you."  4)  "Gonna get ugly this year."

When it comes to my younger brother, brevity is a virtue.

Today is my favorite day of the year.  Hasn't always been the case, and I'm not sure when Christmas was bumped from the top slot to #2, but I have to believe it was sometime around the time when I was told Santa Claus wasn't actually real.  Today I wake up around 9:00 a.m., and Brother is bouncing around the house with my folks' new yellow lab, Riley.  This dog is rediculous.  Seven months old, huge, and still has the mentality of a puppy.  First words out of Brother's mouth:  "Are you ready?"  My response of course is in the affirmative, but I'm more curious about the weather outside.  It's sunny this morning, simply a drop-dead gorgeous day.  I log on to weather.com and discover it is 60 degrees outside.  Yeah, baby, 6-0.  I can't believe it, either.  So when I step outside I just want to scream at the top of my lungs.  Not a cloud in the sky; absolutely beautiful.  And naturally, my first move is to fill up a bucket with soap so I can wash Wife's car.  (Apparently I got the anal gene from my dad.  It's bad.)  I couldn't have been happier this morning.  Soaping up the car, squirting the dog every now and again, taking a moment here and there to harass my friends with text messages - I was in my element.  I finish around 11:00 a.m., and decide to go for a run around "the bay."  My folks live in a pretty sweet condo association by Lake Sunapee.  If we could eliminate the Mass Holes that live here during the summer the place would be heaven.  I took the dog with me.  She seemed to perk up every time I would ask her, "How ya doin' sweet girl?"  What a time.  Smiling from ear to ear, taking it all in, thinking about everything for which I have to be thankful.

After my run I shower up and then go to the kitchen/family room where Mom and Wife are watching the Macy's Day Parade.  Someone on the T.V. is singing Feliz Navidad.  So what do I do?  I start dancing like a complete idiot.  Getting in their faces, hopping around, not a care in the world.  Of course they have no idea what to say.  To break the ice, I tell them, "You know today is my favorite day of the entire year, don't you?"  Mom asks, "Why is that?"  And I tell her, "It's the only day of the year when I can drink, eat, watch football, and act like an idiot."  Wife immediately quips (and good for her, this is sharp), "How does that make today different than any other day of the year?"  Not to be outdone, I quickly reply, "Because it is the one day of the year where I can get away with it."  Point, Rich.

Then of course it's football time.  Colts vs. Lions to get things started.  My brother decides this year that instead of mixing our drinks individually as we need them, he's just going to mix an entire bloody mary pitcher.  Eh boy.  Hamboned by 2:00 p.m.  (Didn't break the proverbial seal until 4:00 p.m. - quality.)

Dinner.  Look out.  Mom decides this year that after the food is served she wants to play, "Let's go around the table and say one thing we are thankful for."  Seriously, Mom, you have to think these things out.  So of course we force her to start.  And naturally she's got nothing.  "Okay," she says, "how about health?  Can I be thankful for my health?"  Jeezus.  We harass her for a little bit, but not too harshly, because now the ball is rolling.  I immediately request that we move counter-clockwise so that my brother is next in line instead of me.  Wow.  Just wow.  Brother takes a pull of his wine, shakes his head, and says, "I don't know.  I'm thankful for a lot.  Can 'a lot' be something?"  Everybody just loses it at the table.  Dad is next, and he tells everybody that he is thankful that his family can get together on such short notice on this day with no hassles and have this time together.  Nice one, Dad.  Wife is next, and apparently I've been beating the political drums a little to loudly lately, so she says, "I'm thankful we can have a dinner where we don't have to talk about politics."  You should have seen the blowout we had this past summer.  Me, Brother, and Dad, getting down and dirty about the Iraq War.  My Dad, the lifelong conservative who is now so anti-Bush and anti-Iraq War it still amazes me, versus my brother, the young neocon who essentially wants to kick ass and take names of everyone who looks at the U.S.A. cross-eyed.  Classic, just classic.  What I loved most was to see how Mom, Wife, and Brother's Fiance just slowly removed themselves from the scene as the 3 "men" of the family continued to pelt each other with verbal shrapnel.  I gotta give props to my dad, a child of the Vietnam Era.  I think he ultimately won the argument.

Anyway, I'm next.  And I figure it's time to give some substance to this "what I am thankful for" merry go-round.  I actually put some thought into this, and it is something I really am thankful for and appreciate more than anything.  "I am thankful for my neighbors who have become our good friends," I say.  "Without them, our life in Burlington would be so drastically different than what it is now."  Talk about an understatement.

I always knew in the back of my mind, way back in July, 2002, as we were moving into our condo, when I saw a Phish sticker on the kitchen skylight of my neighbors' place, that something was in the air . . . Yes there was.  And I thank God for that.

Dinner takes place without incident.  Mom has this thing about playing Christmas tunes, and nobody bitches because it's all good.  I'm pushing for Simon & Garfunkel the entire time, but politely.  My reason for pushing these tunes is because it is the only music my dad and I both like.  As we're clearing the dishes from the table, I finally change the CDs.  Simon and Garfunkel it is.

After everyone leaves the table, it's just me and my dad, stacking dirty dishes.  We're both softly singing "The Sound of Silence."  He never looks at me; however, I look at him, and he is smiling as he is singing.

Yes.  Today is my favorite day.