Monthly Archives: October 2006

DST, Fightin’ an Old Lady, and Fried Chicken

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Am I getting old?

I don’t think I partied like a rock star this weekend, and yet Saturday’s game-day festivities combined with daylight savings time have me almost totally exhausted.

Yes, that’s right. My ass. Kicked. By Daylight Savings Time.

I am almost too embarrassed to write that.

Friday turned out to not be the balls-to-the-wall going out and getting wasted that it was rumored to be which, in all honesty, I was totally fine with. What it was was an evening of pizza and beer and a warm cozy house filled with laughter. Good times.

Saturday started pretty doggone early, but by design of course. We made it down to kegs ‘n eggs in Federal Hill by 7:30 or so, and I had my 1st beer in hand by about 8. Much good food, many friends, and a looong game of cups later it was time to head over to the stadium and watch the Notre Dame-Navy game.

Luckily, Notre Dame won thus extending their Navy-beating streak to (I think) 43 years and ensuring that I wouldn’t be considered a jinx on their good luck. It was a fun, if windy time in which there were only about 5 minutes where I was considering starting a fight with an elderly woman.

But, honestly, Emily didn’t mean to spill some beer down the back of the lady in front of us and was completely, totally, and sincerely apologetic about the incident. Moreover, the lady was wearing a fundamentally waterproof windbreaker, the likes of which I bet deckhands on merchant ships in the North Sea would be happy to get their hands on. What set me off was when Spilled-On-In-Technicality-Only turned to Emily and said, in a voice that sounded exactly like a yellow sour patch kid tastes, “Well, do you at least have a napkin or something?” In my head, I vaulted over the seat and pile-drove the crone down in to the Club Level. What I said was “Oh, no, I’m sorry we don’t. We didn’t exactly plan for this to happen, you know.” She looked at me, killed me with her eyes, and turned around; nevermore to rotate in our direction. And I? I chalked it up as yet another Victory.

Anywho, after the game, we went back to the site of the earlier kegs ‘n eggs and I, being the hard core, go-get-em, party guy I am – well, I passed out on the couch. And then, later, was in bed by about 9:30.

So Saturday kind of wiped me out and then this whole time change thing through me off and now my body doesn’t know where, when, or anything else.

I do know two things though: I just got a new game for the PS2 which kicks all kinds of ass. And also I am going to attempt to make fried chicken for dinner later this week and am turbo excited about that. I just made up my own recipe too.

We’ll see how it goes. Ok, officially, this is easily the most disjointed post I’ve seen today.

You’re welcome.

Medical Diagnosis: Warm, Muddy Badger

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In case you’re wondering, which I know you are, this is exactly how I feel:

I feel like someone has taken a badger, warmed it slightly, dipped it in muddy water and shoved it up my nose. This badger, being an ornery sort, will occaisionally reach down my throat and draw one razor-sharp claw along the back of my esophogus. (esophagus? esophogas?)

The shower seems to help, what with the hot water and the relaxation and the steam and whatnot, but I can’t really stay in there all day. People would start to wonder what was going on and I bet my boss would be less than understanding.

Besides, I’d get all pruney.

Thanks, Fred.

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On the day that Emily and I were married, I woke to a clear, cold dawn. It was 5am. The sun wasn’t up yet but, over Lake Michigan, the eastern sky was turning a lighter shade of grey. For the first time in several days there was not a cloud in the sky.

He’d done it. I’d gotten my wish.

My Grandfather, my Mom’s dad, died just as my sister and I (and our cousins too) were entering the most awkward stage of life. He died right as my parents’ marriage was sputtering and staring to quit. He was sorely missed. He was a kind, generous, outgoing, brilliant, gregarious, bad-ass of a man and his passing left a great, gaping hole in our family. But we pushed on, as families do. Among the cousins, braces and acne gave way to majors and study-abroad, which gave way to careers and grad school. We still talked to Grandpa, but now it was in our prayers and in our dreams.

When my sister, and my cousin after her got married, they each were married on a gorgeous day sandwiched between other, crappier weather. They joked that it was Grandpa’s gift to them; the nice weather his way of saying he was proud and that he loved us still.

After Emily and I got engaged, I lay in bed one night awash in the practical concerns of planning a wedding. “Man”, I thought “I can deal with almost any wedding-day complication. But I want a clear day more than anything.” I didn’t want my guests dripping wet. I wanted everyone to be happy and comfortable. I wanted nice pictures taken outside.

And so, from time to time, I’d say a little something to Grandpa. I’d ask him for nice weather and let him know I missed him.

A week before the wedding we pulled in to the driveway in Milwaukee. It was 70 degrees and sunny. By Thursday it was in the 40’s and spitting rain and snow at us.

The weather toyed with me that week. It would start to clear, and then cloud over again. At the welcome-to-town barbeque on Thursday night, a great swirling knot of snow blew through the backyard.

And yet.

Saturday was cool, true. But it was crystal clear. Not a cloud that I could see. After the wedding, we stood on a bluff, Lake Michigan shining beautiful blue behind us and surrounded by our wedding party, our dear friends and family.

It was perfect. It was a gift from my Grandfather. It was his way of saying congratulations.

Thanks, Grandpa. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.

Or maybe, of course, you do.