WARNING! The following, somewhat hilarious, post contains graphic details of an unpleasant, however somewhat hilarious, nature. Read at your own risk.
Wednesday morning at 5:15, Producer and I left our hotel in Overland Park, Kansas for the Kansas City, Missouri, airport. There didn't appear to be a decent restaurant within sight of our gate, so we broke fast on Cinnabon and coffee. (Um… yuck!) Save for a minor delay, the flight was uneventful. Knowing that I had plans for the evening with Lisa, and how we both seemed to click quickly, I was eager to see her again. The more I thought about her, the more nervous and excited I got. I actually had butterflies in my tummy!
Since it was so early, Producer and I went back to our office. I planned to get out of there at 1:30, seeing as how I would have already worked an eight-hour day by that point. At first it didn't seem likely that I would succeed; the boss wanted me to do a shoot in our studio mid-day. Fortunately it was only about a half-hour, and after I packed up the gear I had little else to do, so I left. I hadn't eaten anything substantial all day except sugar and bread (in that order!), so on my way home I stopped at McDonald's and brought home a Big Mac combo for a quick meal.
Lisa gets out of work at 3:30, so we planned on meeting at her place for a glass of wine before heading off to Big Bowl for a nice dinner. Since I had eaten so little all day, I didn't think the Mickey D's would fill me up too much and spoil my appetite by the time we were heading out for dinner, which I would have guessed would be around 6:00. However, I felt awfully darn full for quite a while after eating and, on top of the butterflies, I felt uncomfortable and was struggling to burp out the insistent gas. I feared an embarrassing date.
On the drive over to Lisa's apartment the discomfort only got worse with the increased anticipation of seeing her again. My hope was that when I did see her, my nerves would calm and I would feel better. She let me in, we kissed and she poured me a glass of wine. Maybe it was the kissing, but her apartment seemed awfully warm, so I took off my sweater. She expressed to me that she was experiencing the butterflies sensation, too, so I felt a little less self-conscious about that, but I didn't feel any better.
After several minutes of small talk, and her concern about how I was feeling, I felt a burp coming on, but then it didn't exactly feel like a burp. I suppressed it, but a few minutes later I felt the same sensation coming on. I feared I was going to vomit, so I got up to head for the bathroom. Suddenly my mouth filled from behind and I dashed to the kitchen sink. I will go into no further detail about that, but suffice it to say that I spent the next several minutes with my face hovering over the drain… Also… you know how when that happens, sometimes something comes out the other end? Well, yeah, that happened too.
After that wave passed I excused myself to the bathroom where I removed the bottom half of my clothing, rinsed my underpants under the bathtub faucet and cleaned myself up down there. Lisa gave me a plastic grocery bag in which to store my undies, I put my pants back on and I went back into the living room, commando-style. My hope was that the butterflies had gotten the better of me, but that it was all over and downhill from there.
It was not.
We decided that Big Bowl was most definitely out of the question for the evening, and we decided to just relax at her place. After about a half-hour of feeling just dandy, I started feeling overly warm once more. When I thought I was definitely going to hurl again, I excused myself to the bathroom where I took off my pants! Sure enough, moments later I found myself on all fours filling Lisa's toilet from one end, and from the other christening her floor and wall in a most disgusting manner!
I cleaned everything up (after which, I'm sure, Lisa pressure-washed and acid-scrubbed!), and we both determined that it was indeed not butterflies that were my undoing, but more likely a peculiarly timed bout of food poisoning.
So I donned my coat and hat, collected my defiled, wet undies and left. I hit the cold winter air outside and was consumed with a case of the chills so severe I thought I would rattle my teeth loose, and I thought I was going to have to stop before I got home to hurl on the side of the road (imagine that scene: bottomless man beside the road, puking and shitting in counter-directional streams!). But I arrived home feeling critically embarrassed and physically miserable, but mostly embarrassed. I undressed and climbed into bed and awaited the worst.
I didn't barf again after the last time Wednesday night at Lisa's, but I was up every hour through the night doing the other thing. I took the day off from work and spent the morning watching my new Blu-Ray disc copy of Bullitt, as well as the three hours of other features on the disc!
I had plans to go to a Dining Out meetup Thursday evening, as did Lisa, so, trooper that she is, we agreed to try again. I felt somewhat human again by the afternoon, so I picked her up at her apartment and we went to the restaurant. My appetite was non-existent (though I didn't find out until the steak arrived), but I still felt better. We had a nice time and said good-bye to our friends, and we headed back to her place.
Despite the unpropitious start to our young relationship, Lisa seems totally unfazed by Wednesday's events. I won't go into any details as to why I feel that way, nor will I divulge where I woke up Friday morning.
But it's all good.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Fling or Thing?
Or: WOW! That Was Fast!
As I highlighted in my prior post, I recently joined a bunch of groups at Meetup.com. My screen name there is “Tone.” So last Wednesday I went to a Sushi meetup and met Jason, the group’s organizer. He told me that I should join his other groups, the local Dining Out group and the Wine group. I did.
Saturday I showed up at the local Wine Cellar shop for the tasting that the Wine group participated in. I arrived a little bit late, so things were already under way. Shortly after I arrived Jason came in from the next room and greeted me. We chatted for a few minutes and he introduced me to a couple people from the group. Then this woman came up to him and not quite whispered “Is that Tone?”
Jason said, “Yeah. That’s him.”
She said, “You were right.”
Naturally, I was a little confused. She was short, with dark hair, attractive, with a sexy, somewhat dusty voice. She introduced herself to me as Lisa.
And for the rest of the day she hardly left my side. She told me that Jason had tried to get her to come out to the Sushi meetup, but she didn’t want to go. Afterward, he had e-mailed her and told her that she missed meeting the new guy (me), and that I was somebody she would probably like. He then told her my screen name, and she looked up my profile. My photo there is from the spring, when I still had my chin whiskers, and I was experimenting with growing them as long as I could stand it. Lisa wasn’t impressed with my photo.
“He shaved,” Jason had told her. “He looks a lot better.”
That explained their conversation upon my arrival at the wine tasting. And it drove home the point that people seemed to really hate that look I sported!
After that wine tasting we left for another wine store for… another wine tasting…but that place had beer-tasting, too! And after that we all headed over to a restaurant a couple blocks away for dinner. I wasn’t sure where exactly it was, so Lisa offered to let me follow her there. When we got there, Lisa and I, and two other women from the group, were the first of about 12 people to arrive. We four all sat at one end of the tables that had been pushed together. Throughout the dinner Lisa and I chatted, and she often patted my knee or my thigh. I didn’t know what to think of this woman. Was she coming on to me? Was she just touchy-feely friendly? I was attracted to her, but what should I do? I didn’t want to assume she was into me, but I didn’t want to assume she wasn’t. So I just let her pat my knee as we talked. Then when we decided to share a dessert, I saw my chance to try to figure it out. I didn’t care which dessert we got, so I asked her which one she wanted. As I did so I patted her knee. And she grasped my hand and held it the rest of the evening!
Ask me anything you want to know about the moon, because I’ve been there since Saturday night!
After dinner Lisa told me she wanted to give me her phone number, but she didn’t have a pen. I walked her to her car and was going to give her my business card that has my mobile number on it. But then she suggested I get in her car.
There we chatted for a while, and she dictated her phone number to me, which I entered into my phone’s address book. Then I called her so my number would show up on her phone, and she could record it. We hugged each other good-night, and I floated home.
Sunday morning I texted her and told her that I was thinking about her. That touched off a flurry of texts, and then I called her and we chatted for about a half hour. I had another meetup Sunday evening that I had to get ready for, a dinner that I had prepaid, and I couldn’t change my plans that late without forfeiting the money. The Dining Out group was gathering at a place near me, and Lisa was going. After earlier declining attendance at that gathering, I changed my mind at Lisa’s request that I join her there. I got dressed for my dinner meeetup, but I stopped by at the brew-pub where Lisa was with the others from the group. I could only stay about an hour and a half before I had to leave. I sat next to Lisa again, and soon we were holding hands! Needless to say, I didn’t want to go, but I felt obligated to the other group…and to my $28!
So I bid my farewell to the group, and I got up to go. Lisa got up with me and told the others that she would be right back. At the entry door of the brew-pub she stood before me and said she was sad that I was leaving her. And we hugged. And then we kissed! I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed that!
And I can’t figure out how this all happened so fast!
When I got to the area of the dinner meetup I found a little wine shop and bought a bottle. During the early part of dinner I texted Lisa and asked her if I could come over later…I would bring wine. That’s the boldest thing I’ve done in quite a while!
She said, “Maybe.” But it was not to be, as I left the dinner around 8:30, and she felt it was too late (and too soon!), and that we should wait until Wednesday, when we have plans to go out, the two of us alone, together, to get to know each other better. (I’m in Kansas City Monday and Tuesday nights.)
I don’t know yet if this is a fling or if it’s a thing, but either way, I’m going to enjoy this high for all its worth!
As I highlighted in my prior post, I recently joined a bunch of groups at Meetup.com. My screen name there is “Tone.” So last Wednesday I went to a Sushi meetup and met Jason, the group’s organizer. He told me that I should join his other groups, the local Dining Out group and the Wine group. I did.
Saturday I showed up at the local Wine Cellar shop for the tasting that the Wine group participated in. I arrived a little bit late, so things were already under way. Shortly after I arrived Jason came in from the next room and greeted me. We chatted for a few minutes and he introduced me to a couple people from the group. Then this woman came up to him and not quite whispered “Is that Tone?”
Jason said, “Yeah. That’s him.”
She said, “You were right.”
Naturally, I was a little confused. She was short, with dark hair, attractive, with a sexy, somewhat dusty voice. She introduced herself to me as Lisa.
And for the rest of the day she hardly left my side. She told me that Jason had tried to get her to come out to the Sushi meetup, but she didn’t want to go. Afterward, he had e-mailed her and told her that she missed meeting the new guy (me), and that I was somebody she would probably like. He then told her my screen name, and she looked up my profile. My photo there is from the spring, when I still had my chin whiskers, and I was experimenting with growing them as long as I could stand it. Lisa wasn’t impressed with my photo.
“He shaved,” Jason had told her. “He looks a lot better.”
That explained their conversation upon my arrival at the wine tasting. And it drove home the point that people seemed to really hate that look I sported!
After that wine tasting we left for another wine store for… another wine tasting…but that place had beer-tasting, too! And after that we all headed over to a restaurant a couple blocks away for dinner. I wasn’t sure where exactly it was, so Lisa offered to let me follow her there. When we got there, Lisa and I, and two other women from the group, were the first of about 12 people to arrive. We four all sat at one end of the tables that had been pushed together. Throughout the dinner Lisa and I chatted, and she often patted my knee or my thigh. I didn’t know what to think of this woman. Was she coming on to me? Was she just touchy-feely friendly? I was attracted to her, but what should I do? I didn’t want to assume she was into me, but I didn’t want to assume she wasn’t. So I just let her pat my knee as we talked. Then when we decided to share a dessert, I saw my chance to try to figure it out. I didn’t care which dessert we got, so I asked her which one she wanted. As I did so I patted her knee. And she grasped my hand and held it the rest of the evening!
Ask me anything you want to know about the moon, because I’ve been there since Saturday night!
After dinner Lisa told me she wanted to give me her phone number, but she didn’t have a pen. I walked her to her car and was going to give her my business card that has my mobile number on it. But then she suggested I get in her car.
There we chatted for a while, and she dictated her phone number to me, which I entered into my phone’s address book. Then I called her so my number would show up on her phone, and she could record it. We hugged each other good-night, and I floated home.
Sunday morning I texted her and told her that I was thinking about her. That touched off a flurry of texts, and then I called her and we chatted for about a half hour. I had another meetup Sunday evening that I had to get ready for, a dinner that I had prepaid, and I couldn’t change my plans that late without forfeiting the money. The Dining Out group was gathering at a place near me, and Lisa was going. After earlier declining attendance at that gathering, I changed my mind at Lisa’s request that I join her there. I got dressed for my dinner meeetup, but I stopped by at the brew-pub where Lisa was with the others from the group. I could only stay about an hour and a half before I had to leave. I sat next to Lisa again, and soon we were holding hands! Needless to say, I didn’t want to go, but I felt obligated to the other group…and to my $28!
So I bid my farewell to the group, and I got up to go. Lisa got up with me and told the others that she would be right back. At the entry door of the brew-pub she stood before me and said she was sad that I was leaving her. And we hugged. And then we kissed! I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed that!
And I can’t figure out how this all happened so fast!
When I got to the area of the dinner meetup I found a little wine shop and bought a bottle. During the early part of dinner I texted Lisa and asked her if I could come over later…I would bring wine. That’s the boldest thing I’ve done in quite a while!
She said, “Maybe.” But it was not to be, as I left the dinner around 8:30, and she felt it was too late (and too soon!), and that we should wait until Wednesday, when we have plans to go out, the two of us alone, together, to get to know each other better. (I’m in Kansas City Monday and Tuesday nights.)
I don’t know yet if this is a fling or if it’s a thing, but either way, I’m going to enjoy this high for all its worth!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
It's A Wonderful Leaf
In the office today we had some people who will be speaking at one of our bigger clients' meeting in March. The purpose was for them to rehearse their speeches and receive critique from my boss and from the association brass, and my purpose was to record them and give them a DVD of their rehearsal performance.
One of the guys who practiced today is an old veteran of the insurance business as well as an old veteran of speaking in front of large groups of people. These older guys usually know how to pack a punch for their audience of peers, but occasionally someone will reach out with a fairly universal message, and the old fart today really got to me.
As a wrap-up to his speech he told the true story of two young men who were insurance agents in his office a few years back, in a particularly bad month for him, personally as well as professionally.
He touted his open-door policy and commented that his door was never closed unless someone came in to see him and closed it himself. On this one particular day a young agent he identified as Jeff came in and closed the door. He told the boss that he didn't want him to be upset, that Jeff would be just fine. Then Jeff went on to tell his boss that he had been dealing with some liver problems, and the doctors had just found a small cancer there. He was to undergo all the batteries of tests and treatments, and he was confident that he would pull through. He continued to work, seeing his clients and writing insurance applications, and maintaining a positive attitude despite the huge question mark that he faced every day.
A few days later another agent, Bob, came into the boss's office. He closed the door and sat down. And then he broke down into tears and sobbing so severe that the boss couldn't decipher what the man was saying. Finally Bob calmed down enough to tell the boss that he had been diagnosed as HIV positive. He could barely compose himself at all, and within a few days turned all of his clients over to other agents, went on disability, and basically gave up.
Jeff lived two more years after his diagnosis. He lived every day of those two years to their fullest, going out to sporting events, taking his family out and enjoying everything life had to give him, but he eventually succumbed to his liver cancer.
Bob, on the other hand, wallowed in self-pity, stopped shaving or grooming, stopped caring for himself or about himself, and went into a downward spiral and became a desperate wreck.
This old general agent drove home a point about Jeff. He lived. He didn't merely exist; he lived until he died. He daily faced down the thing that was killing him, and he extracted as much joy out of every day that he could and experienced every wrinkle of every event until there were no more wrinkles to experience. And when he died, family and friends gathered to celebrate the wonderful life he had made for himself.
Bob, on the other hand, is dead. But he didn't die. He gave up on himself over a situation that is no longer necessarily a death sentence. He's alive, but he's not living.
Test Driving a New Life
I wrote recently of how I set myself up for a random meeting with a woman I had never met before, offering up a spare ticket I had to a Chicago Symphony Orchestra concert. Though it seems nothing has or will come of that meeting with a very intelligent, vibrant, interesting woman, I walked away from the experience feeling invigorated.
I won't go so far as to say that I've been wallowing in self-pity for the last year, but I have spent quite a few evenings going alone to movies and spending quiet evenings home alone watching TV or DVDs or writing. But I have been dead for the past year or so since moving out of the house. Hell, looking all the way back, my ex-wife and I have been dead for the last four or five years. During that afternoon out, sitting next to that beautiful woman for a couple hours, talking over dinner in a conversation that, it turns out, apparently bored her to tears, I felt alive!
Since the concert I have wanted to experience that feeling again. I've never been that great at dating, certainly never been a serial dater, but that little, whimsical idea to put the spare ticket up for grabs on CraigsList was the spark that lit a flame under me. Over the past week I have been on Meetup.com joining local groups that indulge some of my interests: meetups for Sushi, Wine, Writing, Dating, Secular Singles, Over-40 Singles, Over-30 Singles, Desperate To Get Laid Singles…whatever! Just last night I went out for sushi at a place out here in the northwest suburbs and met with a very welcoming and friendly group of mostly regulars to the meetup, but there were a couple other newbies aside from myself. I joined the Chicago Karaoke Underground Meetup, and signed up for their New Year's Eve party. I don't know quite what to expect, but I already paid for it, so now I have to go!
I hadn't thought much about my recent pastime, other than the excited feeling of anticipation I experienced when thinking about upcoming events. But that old, veteran general agent, who has written several books and is apparently quite wealthy, sort of kicked me in the head this morning. He made me realize everything I've said up there: I've been dead, just waiting for each day to go by, looking forward to bedtime, waking up to dread the coming day. But I've been quietly taking baby steps to turn it around, and now I'm on the threshold of a wonderful new life….
Okay, I wanted to make an analogy to my favorite film, It's A Wonderful Life, here, but it would certainly seem a reach, and a rather cheesy one, at that. But there's a great scene near the end of that film where George Bailey finally gets it and realizes that things ain't so bad, after all, and begs to have his life back just as it was when he had decided he had enough. I guess, in a way, I have been in a negative spiral, and everything I've done in the past to pull out of it has left me feeling worse. But I'm tired of feeling that way, and have been taking those baby steps to get out there and just meet people! And that old insurance guy this morning kicked me in the brain and told me I'm doing the right thing. I want to live again!
(If you've never seen this movie, I mean, really. watched. this. movie…SOBER I highly recommend you sit down in a nice, dark, quiet room and watch it all the way through. It's not what you think.)
One of the guys who practiced today is an old veteran of the insurance business as well as an old veteran of speaking in front of large groups of people. These older guys usually know how to pack a punch for their audience of peers, but occasionally someone will reach out with a fairly universal message, and the old fart today really got to me.
As a wrap-up to his speech he told the true story of two young men who were insurance agents in his office a few years back, in a particularly bad month for him, personally as well as professionally.
He touted his open-door policy and commented that his door was never closed unless someone came in to see him and closed it himself. On this one particular day a young agent he identified as Jeff came in and closed the door. He told the boss that he didn't want him to be upset, that Jeff would be just fine. Then Jeff went on to tell his boss that he had been dealing with some liver problems, and the doctors had just found a small cancer there. He was to undergo all the batteries of tests and treatments, and he was confident that he would pull through. He continued to work, seeing his clients and writing insurance applications, and maintaining a positive attitude despite the huge question mark that he faced every day.
A few days later another agent, Bob, came into the boss's office. He closed the door and sat down. And then he broke down into tears and sobbing so severe that the boss couldn't decipher what the man was saying. Finally Bob calmed down enough to tell the boss that he had been diagnosed as HIV positive. He could barely compose himself at all, and within a few days turned all of his clients over to other agents, went on disability, and basically gave up.
Jeff lived two more years after his diagnosis. He lived every day of those two years to their fullest, going out to sporting events, taking his family out and enjoying everything life had to give him, but he eventually succumbed to his liver cancer.
Bob, on the other hand, wallowed in self-pity, stopped shaving or grooming, stopped caring for himself or about himself, and went into a downward spiral and became a desperate wreck.
This old general agent drove home a point about Jeff. He lived. He didn't merely exist; he lived until he died. He daily faced down the thing that was killing him, and he extracted as much joy out of every day that he could and experienced every wrinkle of every event until there were no more wrinkles to experience. And when he died, family and friends gathered to celebrate the wonderful life he had made for himself.
Bob, on the other hand, is dead. But he didn't die. He gave up on himself over a situation that is no longer necessarily a death sentence. He's alive, but he's not living.
Test Driving a New Life
I wrote recently of how I set myself up for a random meeting with a woman I had never met before, offering up a spare ticket I had to a Chicago Symphony Orchestra concert. Though it seems nothing has or will come of that meeting with a very intelligent, vibrant, interesting woman, I walked away from the experience feeling invigorated.
I won't go so far as to say that I've been wallowing in self-pity for the last year, but I have spent quite a few evenings going alone to movies and spending quiet evenings home alone watching TV or DVDs or writing. But I have been dead for the past year or so since moving out of the house. Hell, looking all the way back, my ex-wife and I have been dead for the last four or five years. During that afternoon out, sitting next to that beautiful woman for a couple hours, talking over dinner in a conversation that, it turns out, apparently bored her to tears, I felt alive!
Since the concert I have wanted to experience that feeling again. I've never been that great at dating, certainly never been a serial dater, but that little, whimsical idea to put the spare ticket up for grabs on CraigsList was the spark that lit a flame under me. Over the past week I have been on Meetup.com joining local groups that indulge some of my interests: meetups for Sushi, Wine, Writing, Dating, Secular Singles, Over-40 Singles, Over-30 Singles, Desperate To Get Laid Singles…whatever! Just last night I went out for sushi at a place out here in the northwest suburbs and met with a very welcoming and friendly group of mostly regulars to the meetup, but there were a couple other newbies aside from myself. I joined the Chicago Karaoke Underground Meetup, and signed up for their New Year's Eve party. I don't know quite what to expect, but I already paid for it, so now I have to go!
I hadn't thought much about my recent pastime, other than the excited feeling of anticipation I experienced when thinking about upcoming events. But that old, veteran general agent, who has written several books and is apparently quite wealthy, sort of kicked me in the head this morning. He made me realize everything I've said up there: I've been dead, just waiting for each day to go by, looking forward to bedtime, waking up to dread the coming day. But I've been quietly taking baby steps to turn it around, and now I'm on the threshold of a wonderful new life….
Okay, I wanted to make an analogy to my favorite film, It's A Wonderful Life, here, but it would certainly seem a reach, and a rather cheesy one, at that. But there's a great scene near the end of that film where George Bailey finally gets it and realizes that things ain't so bad, after all, and begs to have his life back just as it was when he had decided he had enough. I guess, in a way, I have been in a negative spiral, and everything I've done in the past to pull out of it has left me feeling worse. But I'm tired of feeling that way, and have been taking those baby steps to get out there and just meet people! And that old insurance guy this morning kicked me in the brain and told me I'm doing the right thing. I want to live again!
(If you've never seen this movie, I mean, really. watched. this. movie…SOBER I highly recommend you sit down in a nice, dark, quiet room and watch it all the way through. It's not what you think.)
Sunday, December 07, 2008
I Have Seen Hell, And It Is Michigan In Winter
I work with fame every day. Well, okay… the child of fame. That is, my co-worker, to whom I refer as "Producer."
Those among my readers who are older (willfully avoiding the stern gaze of kenju) may recall a musical duo who hailed from the south, whose heyday was in the 1950s and '60s. They mostly did parodies of popular songs — usually Country & Western, but they parodied some pop hits as well. They won a Grammy award in 1959 for their song "The Battle of Kookamunga," their spoof of Johnny Horton's "The Battle of New Orleans."
They were Homer & Jethro.
Producer is the son of Henry "Homer" Haynes. He's fairly humble about it, but he is intensely proud of his father and loves to talk about him. Wouldn't you?
Son of Homer (sometimes Son of Something Else, but I never knew his mother and I shouldn't talk about her like that) has been working for over ten years on a documentary about his father and the duo, and with no budget, he has relied on others' willingness and their belief in the project in order to get things done toward its completion. For the past four years I have been his cameraman for the interviews of famous people whose stars are waning or have faded outright, and who have something to say about Homer & Jethro. In this endeavor I have met and videotaped Les Paul, Tommy Smothers, Roy Clark and Jimmy Dean, who were deeply influenced by Homer & Jethro (Smothers), or who knew them personally (the others).
This past weekend we interviewed another celebrity, someone who wasn't necessarily influenced by them, and didn't know them at all, though he met them once. He is Ernie Harwell, the Voice of the Detroit Tigers and, for a period of his life, an aspiring songwriter. Through a chance meeting, Homer & Jethro were bestowed with the honor of seeing a Tigers game from the broadcast booth where Atlanta-born Harwell, a country music fan, was eager to meet these celebrities. He told them he was a songwriter and, skeptical, Homer & Jethro took a look at his stuff. They took a couple songs and about a year later Harwell received an album in the mail with a note attached to the cover that expressed congratulations for one of his songs making it onto their recording. It was Harwell's first break into the music business.
Now retired from broadcasting, Ernie Harwell still lives in the Detroit area. And since Son of Homer has zero budget, that meant that we had to drive to Detroit to get this interview. SOH asked me if we could take my car because his is decrepit and might not make it. I was agreeable after he said he would pay for the gas and food. And because I didn't want to sit through 10 hours of his driving.
Though it had been crisp and clear all day, Friday night I took a look at The Weather Channel's website just to see what kind of weather we would be looking at on Saturday. It showed some light snow in the Chicago area with up to an inch of accumulation. I let out an uneasy groan at the news.
As anybody from the Chicago area knows, as anyone from the Great Lakes region knows, there's this little phenomenon in this area of the continent known as "The Lake Effect." In butchered scientific terms, "The Lake Effect" means that any ol' winter storm system rolling eastward over the cold hard northern Illinois ground and sprinkling its moisture onto the earth in little dusty ice crystals will eventually roll over Lake Michigan. There, the relatively warmer water evaporates and that moisture is sucked up into the li'l ol' winter storm system and that li'l ol' storm becomes a raging bastard. The effect is that a storm that dusts Chicago with two inches of snow can intensify over Lake Michigan and can then dump 12 inches on western and central Michigan!
So I looked upon the anticipated light accumulation in the Chicago area as a bad omen. When I woke up Saturday morning at 4:30, there was already new blanket of snow two inches deep on everything.
I went to the office and loaded up my Xterra, and SOH met me at the agreed upon time: 5:50am. In the interest of fuel economy, I did not engage the 4-wheel drive system. Traffic was heavier, dammit, than it should have been at 6:00 on a Saturday morning, so it was slower going than I had hoped. About an hour into the trip we were in northwest Indiana and saw a harbinger of the mood of our trip: on both sides of a short stretch of Interstate 80 traffic slowed to a crawl and several cars were strewn about in the emergency lanes, with emergency vehicles in attendance. Just as I surmised that the road surfaces must have been slick in this area I saw in my rear-view mirror, about four or five car lengths behind me, a light blue sedan sliding sideways into the left-hand emergency lane! I don't know if it hit anything. The further we went toward our destination, the worse the weather got.
All along the way there were stretches of Interstate highway speckled with the flashing lights of emergency vehicles signaling the presence of ice…and stranded vehicles which had spun out and slid off the road into the side ditches and the median. Throughout the entire round trip we saw no fewer than five tractor-trailer rigs jackknifed and helplessly immobile in the soft grass underneath the snow beside the pavement. One of the trucks was on its side.
On more than one occasion I felt the rear end of my SUV starting to kick out on a patch of "black ice," a condition where the road appears normal and dry, but there's a thin, transparent coating of ice that will rob your tires of their traction before you can even react. The first time was when everything appeared dry, but for the blowing snow across the roadway. I had the cruise-control on. We were on a slight curve to the right, and I felt the rear of the vehicle sliding. As a reflex, I tapped the brake pedal quickly to disengage the cruise-control, and the Xterra settled down. Another time was right after we passed an area where there had been more spin-outs and cars in the ditch. I was accelerating gingerly, but that was still too much. The rear end got squirrelly, but I let off the accelerator and we stayed on the road.
Once we got past Kalamazoo-what-a-gal! the weather started to lighten up, as I hoped it would when we escaped what I thought would be the extent of the lake effect area. Due to the weather, and to the fact that both SOH and I forgot to factor in the time change to Eastern Standard Time from Illinois to Michigan, we were two hours behind our estimated arrival time. But, since I am The World's Best Driver (oh, yes I am!), I got us there in one piece.
Ernie Harwell's lawyer/manger, who had been skeptical of SOH's true identity and intentions, spoke with him over the phone during the ride up, and, finally satisfied we didn't intend Harwell any ill will, became really cool and flexible with us and our tardiness.
We rolled into town, a suburb of Detroit, and grabbed a quick lunch. Around 2:00 we were setting up our lights. We rolled tape about 3:00. At 91, Harwell is fit, spry and sharp as a tack! And by 3:15 the interview was finished. We drove six hours THROUGH HELL, and we had six more ahead of us, for a fucking 15-minute interview!
Well, what's life without a little adventure, right? The drive back wasn't as bad, but we did drive through some thick squalls in near white-out conditions, we saw more sprawled and stranded cars and trucks in treacherous areas we had to crawl through, and we stopped for dinner on the way, so the return trip took every bit as long.
Having left at 5:15am and driving to the other side of Michigan and back, I stepped back into my apartment again at 11:30pm.
And Sunday? Crisp and clear. Another act in this divine comedy.
Those among my readers who are older (willfully avoiding the stern gaze of kenju) may recall a musical duo who hailed from the south, whose heyday was in the 1950s and '60s. They mostly did parodies of popular songs — usually Country & Western, but they parodied some pop hits as well. They won a Grammy award in 1959 for their song "The Battle of Kookamunga," their spoof of Johnny Horton's "The Battle of New Orleans."
They were Homer & Jethro.
Producer is the son of Henry "Homer" Haynes. He's fairly humble about it, but he is intensely proud of his father and loves to talk about him. Wouldn't you?
Son of Homer (sometimes Son of Something Else, but I never knew his mother and I shouldn't talk about her like that) has been working for over ten years on a documentary about his father and the duo, and with no budget, he has relied on others' willingness and their belief in the project in order to get things done toward its completion. For the past four years I have been his cameraman for the interviews of famous people whose stars are waning or have faded outright, and who have something to say about Homer & Jethro. In this endeavor I have met and videotaped Les Paul, Tommy Smothers, Roy Clark and Jimmy Dean, who were deeply influenced by Homer & Jethro (Smothers), or who knew them personally (the others).
This past weekend we interviewed another celebrity, someone who wasn't necessarily influenced by them, and didn't know them at all, though he met them once. He is Ernie Harwell, the Voice of the Detroit Tigers and, for a period of his life, an aspiring songwriter. Through a chance meeting, Homer & Jethro were bestowed with the honor of seeing a Tigers game from the broadcast booth where Atlanta-born Harwell, a country music fan, was eager to meet these celebrities. He told them he was a songwriter and, skeptical, Homer & Jethro took a look at his stuff. They took a couple songs and about a year later Harwell received an album in the mail with a note attached to the cover that expressed congratulations for one of his songs making it onto their recording. It was Harwell's first break into the music business.
Now retired from broadcasting, Ernie Harwell still lives in the Detroit area. And since Son of Homer has zero budget, that meant that we had to drive to Detroit to get this interview. SOH asked me if we could take my car because his is decrepit and might not make it. I was agreeable after he said he would pay for the gas and food. And because I didn't want to sit through 10 hours of his driving.
Though it had been crisp and clear all day, Friday night I took a look at The Weather Channel's website just to see what kind of weather we would be looking at on Saturday. It showed some light snow in the Chicago area with up to an inch of accumulation. I let out an uneasy groan at the news.
As anybody from the Chicago area knows, as anyone from the Great Lakes region knows, there's this little phenomenon in this area of the continent known as "The Lake Effect." In butchered scientific terms, "The Lake Effect" means that any ol' winter storm system rolling eastward over the cold hard northern Illinois ground and sprinkling its moisture onto the earth in little dusty ice crystals will eventually roll over Lake Michigan. There, the relatively warmer water evaporates and that moisture is sucked up into the li'l ol' winter storm system and that li'l ol' storm becomes a raging bastard. The effect is that a storm that dusts Chicago with two inches of snow can intensify over Lake Michigan and can then dump 12 inches on western and central Michigan!
So I looked upon the anticipated light accumulation in the Chicago area as a bad omen. When I woke up Saturday morning at 4:30, there was already new blanket of snow two inches deep on everything.
I went to the office and loaded up my Xterra, and SOH met me at the agreed upon time: 5:50am. In the interest of fuel economy, I did not engage the 4-wheel drive system. Traffic was heavier, dammit, than it should have been at 6:00 on a Saturday morning, so it was slower going than I had hoped. About an hour into the trip we were in northwest Indiana and saw a harbinger of the mood of our trip: on both sides of a short stretch of Interstate 80 traffic slowed to a crawl and several cars were strewn about in the emergency lanes, with emergency vehicles in attendance. Just as I surmised that the road surfaces must have been slick in this area I saw in my rear-view mirror, about four or five car lengths behind me, a light blue sedan sliding sideways into the left-hand emergency lane! I don't know if it hit anything. The further we went toward our destination, the worse the weather got.
All along the way there were stretches of Interstate highway speckled with the flashing lights of emergency vehicles signaling the presence of ice…and stranded vehicles which had spun out and slid off the road into the side ditches and the median. Throughout the entire round trip we saw no fewer than five tractor-trailer rigs jackknifed and helplessly immobile in the soft grass underneath the snow beside the pavement. One of the trucks was on its side.
On more than one occasion I felt the rear end of my SUV starting to kick out on a patch of "black ice," a condition where the road appears normal and dry, but there's a thin, transparent coating of ice that will rob your tires of their traction before you can even react. The first time was when everything appeared dry, but for the blowing snow across the roadway. I had the cruise-control on. We were on a slight curve to the right, and I felt the rear of the vehicle sliding. As a reflex, I tapped the brake pedal quickly to disengage the cruise-control, and the Xterra settled down. Another time was right after we passed an area where there had been more spin-outs and cars in the ditch. I was accelerating gingerly, but that was still too much. The rear end got squirrelly, but I let off the accelerator and we stayed on the road.
Once we got past Kalamazoo-what-a-gal! the weather started to lighten up, as I hoped it would when we escaped what I thought would be the extent of the lake effect area. Due to the weather, and to the fact that both SOH and I forgot to factor in the time change to Eastern Standard Time from Illinois to Michigan, we were two hours behind our estimated arrival time. But, since I am The World's Best Driver (oh, yes I am!), I got us there in one piece.
Ernie Harwell's lawyer/manger, who had been skeptical of SOH's true identity and intentions, spoke with him over the phone during the ride up, and, finally satisfied we didn't intend Harwell any ill will, became really cool and flexible with us and our tardiness.
We rolled into town, a suburb of Detroit, and grabbed a quick lunch. Around 2:00 we were setting up our lights. We rolled tape about 3:00. At 91, Harwell is fit, spry and sharp as a tack! And by 3:15 the interview was finished. We drove six hours THROUGH HELL, and we had six more ahead of us, for a fucking 15-minute interview!
Well, what's life without a little adventure, right? The drive back wasn't as bad, but we did drive through some thick squalls in near white-out conditions, we saw more sprawled and stranded cars and trucks in treacherous areas we had to crawl through, and we stopped for dinner on the way, so the return trip took every bit as long.
Having left at 5:15am and driving to the other side of Michigan and back, I stepped back into my apartment again at 11:30pm.
And Sunday? Crisp and clear. Another act in this divine comedy.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Life IBM*
It's been a dull creep since Marlo Thomas turned 71. At least half my readership (that's one reader, yo) have been scanning Chicago area obits to see if I croaked.
Nope. Just life *in boring mode.
Iowa: It's a Lot Like Iowa
Next year's chairman of our largest client association lives in an Illinois suburb of Clinton, Iowa. We do a video on the incoming chairman of this association every year, and this year's was within a couple hours' driving distance of Chicago.
Not much worth saying here other than Clinton, Iowa, is a tragically boring place. It was one of the towns along the Mississippi River that flooded last summer, but to the people who live there, that's kinda what life in Clinton is all about. When you live by a river chances are if it can't kill you when you're out for a summer dip, then someday it's going to reach over its banks and try to kill you at your house.
The subject of our video seems a very nice man, around age 60 or 65, I'm guessing. He bears a striking resemblance to my ex-father-in-law. It's not an unfavorable resemblance. I like my ex-father-in-law. Was it wrong to tell the incoming chairman of the resemblance? Our client and Producer thought so.
We interviewed the mayor of Clinton. His glasses fogged up right in the middle of it. I've never seen anything like that, just fogging up in the middle of the council chamber with no change of room temperature. I think he got nervous.
Then we left a clamp there. It's one of those things that costs about $30, but, depending on the shoot, can be one of the most important pieces of equipment you could ever need.
Amazin' Amazon and the Blu-Rage
Sunday night, the first night in Iowa (we were there two nights), I finally pulled the trigger on a large electronics purchase I've been wanting to make. I had shopped it on Amazon.com already, and decided to do it before I talked myself out of it. Again. So I ordered a Samsung HT-AS720ST Surround-Sound Home Theater receiver, a Samsung BD-P1500 Blu-Ray disc player and a pair of chunky snow boots (the brown ones). No, they're not electronic. I just needed some boots.
Upon completing the order and requesting the Super-Saver free shipping, Amazon informed me that the order would be delivered in five to nine business days. Well, being the Sunday before Thanksgiving, I had no confidence that by Thursday evening I'd be sleeping off the tryptophan coma while basking in the Blu-Ray light and 5.1 walls of sound pumped out by "The Christmas Story."
We shot Monday and Tuesday, and drove home Tuesday evening. On Wednesday one of my co-workers, Bill, asked me "what the hell" the stuff was I had ordered that was sitting in the warehouse.
"What stuff?"
He told me a couple of boxes had arrived the day before. I followed him back to the warehouse, and sure as shit, there sat my complete Amazon.com order! It had arrived on Tuesday! Bill was really curious what I had ordered because, to him, the Amazon "smile" logo looked more like the underside of a penis,
and he thought he had busted me ordering some sort of sex toys!
But those were delivered in plain brown packages a week before.
Thanksgiving morning I actually went in to the office and spent a few hours putting together an awards presentation video as a favor for a guy who attended one of our client shows. Since it's a personal favor, I can't occupy an edit suite when real projects need to get done, so I chose a day I knew no one else would be around to bother me. It went more smoothly than even I had imagined it could, and by 12:30 I was on my way to my sister's house for Thanksgiving.
The only noteworthy and different tale to tell here would be if I had not stuffed myself to the point of near-unconsciousness, but what kind of Thanksgiving would that be? The only other item worth mentioning is we all got to meet my 25 y.o. nephew's new girlfriend.
I hate him.
Friday I spent the afternoon putting together my new surround-sound stereo system and hooking up my new Blu-Ray disc player. Aside from realizing that the manufacturer-supplied speaker wire was not long enough to go around my living room to reach the two rear speakers, it all worked just marvelously! In order to test the surround-sound, I pulled out one of the movies I own, Saving Private Ryan (no, not "Shaving Ryan's Privates!" I'll never make that mistake again!) for I knew its opening battle scene just had to be a veritable workout for a surround-sound system! I popped the disc in, it loaded up, and it sounded AWESOME! I had a Netflix movie I wanted to watch, so I put away Saving Private Ryan. I spent the next half hour cleaning up the mess left over from emptying boxes and opening little plastic bags that held the essential little goodies, and I nuked up some burritos to enjoy while watching the beginning of Crash.
I got everything ready, pulled the disc out of its Netflix sleeve, and I pressed the "tray open/close" button on the Blu-Ray player.
Nothing.
I pressed the "tray open/close" button on the remote.
Bupkis.
My brand-new Blu-Ray player, which had worked for 15 minutes only a half-hour earlier, was now an oversized paper-weight. I tried getting it to work by various methods, from unplugging it and replugging it, to swearing at it in Latin (try finding that in the inturwebz!), to praying to a god I know ain't there, but to no avail. The player was dead.
Con Share Toe
Back shortly after my marriage came to a shrieking halt, I received a phone call from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, begging for money. The ex-Mrs. Farrago and I had spoken several times of going to see Orchestra performances, but we only ever got around to seeing one. Feeling just a little reckless, I agreed to buy some tickets, and at $560 for ten season-tickets (five shows), I felt pretty damn reckless when I hung up the phone! Even worse, the first show was still a whole year off! At least, I figured, the divorce would be final by then, and I'd have some dating prospects.
HAH! At least I was half right.
The only real prospect was the woman who had asked me out in August. We had gone out once, but there was no chemistry after we beat to death the topic of our failed marriages. I did ask her to the first concert, but she has filled her schedule with a second job that she works when her ex-husband has the kids, and she won't schedule social life when she has the kids.
So, November 30 was upon me, and I still had no date. Saturday morning I had a brainstorm: How about putting an ad up on Craigslist and see if anyone wants a free seat at the concert!
I put it up in "Strictly Platonic," and said that it wasn't a date, and that there were no strings attached other than the person had to sit next to me, and had to behave and dress in a manner appropriate for a Symphony concert.
The first respondent was a woman named Marva. We agreed to meet the next day about 15 minutes before the program was scheduled to start. Where, by the sound of her voice, I anticipated a gray-haired woman of about 60, Marva turned out to be a very attractive African-American woman. I have a notoriously difficult time guessing the age of people of African heritage, as, in middle- and elder age it seems they are usually about ten to fifteen years older than they look. If I were to guess, I'd say Marva was 40 to 45 years old. By my sliding scale, then it must mean she's 60!
After the show Marva insisted on treating me to dinner at "Rhapsody Café," right next-door to the Symphony Center. I really enjoyed her company, and we had a great conversation, so, as our dinner ended and I had to break away for the airport, I asked her if I could call her again, and she said "Yes!"
Amazin', Part 2 and Cruisin' June!
Tuesday, after a flight-delayed Sunday evening ordeal which got me into my Washington, D.C. hotel at 2:15am Monday morning, and a Monday shoot where I spent more time waiting around than I did shooting, I filled out the online forms at Amazon.com to exchange the faulty Blu-Ray player. Upon completion, Amazon informed me that the anticipated delivery date of the replacement item was December 9. Ugh! A whole week without my Blu-Ray! …which I never even got to use…
I got an e-mail from our sister company in Columbus, Ohio. One of their clients, for which I and my coworker, Bill, had worked a couple times in the past few years, has requested that Bill and I work for them again to produce their highlights videos on their upcoming summer shows.
This is cool for a couple of reasons. First, this company's meeting planner, who had been hired away from another company, had for a couple of years been trying to dump our sister company for one she had been working with at her prior employer. Meeting planners are loyal that way. She had all but succeeded when she came into conflict with company policy and was fired. Whoever was put in her place to pick up the pieces remembers us, Bill and I, and made sure not simply to request that our company do their highlights video, but requested Bill and me, specifically. That's a good feeling!
The second reason this is cool is that the June show is 8 days on a cruise ship! We know not where, yet, but IT'S A CRUISE! And the July show is 8 days in Cancun! We don't know yet if our boss will let us go (he probably will…if we both still have jobs here in June), but at least now there's June to look forward to!
Hot DOG! And my replacement Blu-Ray player came today!
But I tried to call Marva yesterday evening. She didn't pick up. I left a message. She has not yet returned my call. Do you think she was just humoring me at dinner?
And with this post I have 100 on the year!
WOO HOO!
Nope. Just life *in boring mode.
Iowa: It's a Lot Like Iowa
Next year's chairman of our largest client association lives in an Illinois suburb of Clinton, Iowa. We do a video on the incoming chairman of this association every year, and this year's was within a couple hours' driving distance of Chicago.
Not much worth saying here other than Clinton, Iowa, is a tragically boring place. It was one of the towns along the Mississippi River that flooded last summer, but to the people who live there, that's kinda what life in Clinton is all about. When you live by a river chances are if it can't kill you when you're out for a summer dip, then someday it's going to reach over its banks and try to kill you at your house.
The subject of our video seems a very nice man, around age 60 or 65, I'm guessing. He bears a striking resemblance to my ex-father-in-law. It's not an unfavorable resemblance. I like my ex-father-in-law. Was it wrong to tell the incoming chairman of the resemblance? Our client and Producer thought so.
We interviewed the mayor of Clinton. His glasses fogged up right in the middle of it. I've never seen anything like that, just fogging up in the middle of the council chamber with no change of room temperature. I think he got nervous.
Then we left a clamp there. It's one of those things that costs about $30, but, depending on the shoot, can be one of the most important pieces of equipment you could ever need.
Amazin' Amazon and the Blu-Rage
Sunday night, the first night in Iowa (we were there two nights), I finally pulled the trigger on a large electronics purchase I've been wanting to make. I had shopped it on Amazon.com already, and decided to do it before I talked myself out of it. Again. So I ordered a Samsung HT-AS720ST Surround-Sound Home Theater receiver, a Samsung BD-P1500 Blu-Ray disc player and a pair of chunky snow boots (the brown ones). No, they're not electronic. I just needed some boots.
Upon completing the order and requesting the Super-Saver free shipping, Amazon informed me that the order would be delivered in five to nine business days. Well, being the Sunday before Thanksgiving, I had no confidence that by Thursday evening I'd be sleeping off the tryptophan coma while basking in the Blu-Ray light and 5.1 walls of sound pumped out by "The Christmas Story."
We shot Monday and Tuesday, and drove home Tuesday evening. On Wednesday one of my co-workers, Bill, asked me "what the hell" the stuff was I had ordered that was sitting in the warehouse.
"What stuff?"
He told me a couple of boxes had arrived the day before. I followed him back to the warehouse, and sure as shit, there sat my complete Amazon.com order! It had arrived on Tuesday! Bill was really curious what I had ordered because, to him, the Amazon "smile" logo looked more like the underside of a penis,
and he thought he had busted me ordering some sort of sex toys!
But those were delivered in plain brown packages a week before.
Thanksgiving morning I actually went in to the office and spent a few hours putting together an awards presentation video as a favor for a guy who attended one of our client shows. Since it's a personal favor, I can't occupy an edit suite when real projects need to get done, so I chose a day I knew no one else would be around to bother me. It went more smoothly than even I had imagined it could, and by 12:30 I was on my way to my sister's house for Thanksgiving.
The only noteworthy and different tale to tell here would be if I had not stuffed myself to the point of near-unconsciousness, but what kind of Thanksgiving would that be? The only other item worth mentioning is we all got to meet my 25 y.o. nephew's new girlfriend.
I hate him.
Friday I spent the afternoon putting together my new surround-sound stereo system and hooking up my new Blu-Ray disc player. Aside from realizing that the manufacturer-supplied speaker wire was not long enough to go around my living room to reach the two rear speakers, it all worked just marvelously! In order to test the surround-sound, I pulled out one of the movies I own, Saving Private Ryan (no, not "Shaving Ryan's Privates!" I'll never make that mistake again!) for I knew its opening battle scene just had to be a veritable workout for a surround-sound system! I popped the disc in, it loaded up, and it sounded AWESOME! I had a Netflix movie I wanted to watch, so I put away Saving Private Ryan. I spent the next half hour cleaning up the mess left over from emptying boxes and opening little plastic bags that held the essential little goodies, and I nuked up some burritos to enjoy while watching the beginning of Crash.
I got everything ready, pulled the disc out of its Netflix sleeve, and I pressed the "tray open/close" button on the Blu-Ray player.
Nothing.
I pressed the "tray open/close" button on the remote.
Bupkis.
My brand-new Blu-Ray player, which had worked for 15 minutes only a half-hour earlier, was now an oversized paper-weight. I tried getting it to work by various methods, from unplugging it and replugging it, to swearing at it in Latin (try finding that in the inturwebz!), to praying to a god I know ain't there, but to no avail. The player was dead.
Con Share Toe
Back shortly after my marriage came to a shrieking halt, I received a phone call from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, begging for money. The ex-Mrs. Farrago and I had spoken several times of going to see Orchestra performances, but we only ever got around to seeing one. Feeling just a little reckless, I agreed to buy some tickets, and at $560 for ten season-tickets (five shows), I felt pretty damn reckless when I hung up the phone! Even worse, the first show was still a whole year off! At least, I figured, the divorce would be final by then, and I'd have some dating prospects.
HAH! At least I was half right.
The only real prospect was the woman who had asked me out in August. We had gone out once, but there was no chemistry after we beat to death the topic of our failed marriages. I did ask her to the first concert, but she has filled her schedule with a second job that she works when her ex-husband has the kids, and she won't schedule social life when she has the kids.
So, November 30 was upon me, and I still had no date. Saturday morning I had a brainstorm: How about putting an ad up on Craigslist and see if anyone wants a free seat at the concert!
I put it up in "Strictly Platonic," and said that it wasn't a date, and that there were no strings attached other than the person had to sit next to me, and had to behave and dress in a manner appropriate for a Symphony concert.
The first respondent was a woman named Marva. We agreed to meet the next day about 15 minutes before the program was scheduled to start. Where, by the sound of her voice, I anticipated a gray-haired woman of about 60, Marva turned out to be a very attractive African-American woman. I have a notoriously difficult time guessing the age of people of African heritage, as, in middle- and elder age it seems they are usually about ten to fifteen years older than they look. If I were to guess, I'd say Marva was 40 to 45 years old. By my sliding scale, then it must mean she's 60!
After the show Marva insisted on treating me to dinner at "Rhapsody Café," right next-door to the Symphony Center. I really enjoyed her company, and we had a great conversation, so, as our dinner ended and I had to break away for the airport, I asked her if I could call her again, and she said "Yes!"
Amazin', Part 2 and Cruisin' June!
Tuesday, after a flight-delayed Sunday evening ordeal which got me into my Washington, D.C. hotel at 2:15am Monday morning, and a Monday shoot where I spent more time waiting around than I did shooting, I filled out the online forms at Amazon.com to exchange the faulty Blu-Ray player. Upon completion, Amazon informed me that the anticipated delivery date of the replacement item was December 9. Ugh! A whole week without my Blu-Ray! …which I never even got to use…
I got an e-mail from our sister company in Columbus, Ohio. One of their clients, for which I and my coworker, Bill, had worked a couple times in the past few years, has requested that Bill and I work for them again to produce their highlights videos on their upcoming summer shows.
This is cool for a couple of reasons. First, this company's meeting planner, who had been hired away from another company, had for a couple of years been trying to dump our sister company for one she had been working with at her prior employer. Meeting planners are loyal that way. She had all but succeeded when she came into conflict with company policy and was fired. Whoever was put in her place to pick up the pieces remembers us, Bill and I, and made sure not simply to request that our company do their highlights video, but requested Bill and me, specifically. That's a good feeling!
The second reason this is cool is that the June show is 8 days on a cruise ship! We know not where, yet, but IT'S A CRUISE! And the July show is 8 days in Cancun! We don't know yet if our boss will let us go (he probably will…if we both still have jobs here in June), but at least now there's June to look forward to!
Hot DOG! And my replacement Blu-Ray player came today!
But I tried to call Marva yesterday evening. She didn't pick up. I left a message. She has not yet returned my call. Do you think she was just humoring me at dinner?
And with this post I have 100 on the year!
WOO HOO!
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Thematic Photographic #27: Shadow
Sun Tree Snow Shadow
Hoffman Estates, Illinois
27 January 2008
This one was taken while familiarizing myself with the new camera I had purchased for our office, a Canon EOS 5D, with a 24-70mm f/2.8 lens, at a focal length of 25mm, f/4.5, 1/6400 shutter speed. The ISO is unknown, but was probably 100.
If you want to participate in Thematic Photographic, Carmi sets a new theme at his blog every Wednesday. Head over there and see what he and some others have posted, and then read the rules about how you can participate also, too, as well. Even.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Guaranteed to Bring a Tear...Or At Least a Lump In Your Throat (In A Good Way!)
At a client's upcoming convention in New Orleans in January, there's an act scheduled to perform — I'm guessing — to open the whole show. I've heard the name of the act bandied about, and every time I've heard it, I've felt a groan emanate from my girth. The name of the act is "The Cactus Cuties," and you can imagine my sense of apprehension as I imagined an act consisting of little girls dressed in little cowgirl costumes or something, no doubt related to one of the executives on the board of directors or the like.
Then, tonight, farting around on YouTube, I stumbled across a Cactus Cuties video — apparently the original video that put them on the map — and played it.
As I have waxed poetic about "The Star-Spangled Banner" in this blog before, I won't go into it too much. Suffice it to say that I am a sucker for that song, and if I let myself think about its story while it's playing — or even worse, while I'm singing it — I get all choked up.
Well, for the last ten minutes prior to composing this post I've been in tears listening to these little kids crank out "The Star-Spangled Banner" at various events around the country.
If the song itself doesn't tug a tear out of your face, then their crisp, almost flawless harmony will.
And there's not just one song. There are videos of some of the other songs they perform, and I guess they now have a studio album out.
Below is their performance on Independence Day this year on the *gag* 700 Club. I posted that here because it's the best quality video I saw.
(Just pause it and move on right after they say their names and ages, because right after that the witch lady gets all preachy.)
Next is the video that got them noticed, a performance of "The Star-Spangled Banner" at a Texas Tech basketball game.
Bear with me here... The next is another performance of their rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner," this time at a San Antonio Spurs basketball playoff game. Listen to the crowd, as it gives lackluster welcoming applause upon the group's introduction, and is then won over entirely halfway through the song!
Wait... let me get the tissues....
Then, tonight, farting around on YouTube, I stumbled across a Cactus Cuties video — apparently the original video that put them on the map — and played it.
As I have waxed poetic about "The Star-Spangled Banner" in this blog before, I won't go into it too much. Suffice it to say that I am a sucker for that song, and if I let myself think about its story while it's playing — or even worse, while I'm singing it — I get all choked up.
Well, for the last ten minutes prior to composing this post I've been in tears listening to these little kids crank out "The Star-Spangled Banner" at various events around the country.
If the song itself doesn't tug a tear out of your face, then their crisp, almost flawless harmony will.
And there's not just one song. There are videos of some of the other songs they perform, and I guess they now have a studio album out.
Below is their performance on Independence Day this year on the *gag* 700 Club. I posted that here because it's the best quality video I saw.
(Just pause it and move on right after they say their names and ages, because right after that the witch lady gets all preachy.)
Next is the video that got them noticed, a performance of "The Star-Spangled Banner" at a Texas Tech basketball game.
Bear with me here... The next is another performance of their rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner," this time at a San Antonio Spurs basketball playoff game. Listen to the crowd, as it gives lackluster welcoming applause upon the group's introduction, and is then won over entirely halfway through the song!
Wait... let me get the tissues....
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