In Defense of Leisure

I came upon this blog post this morning and find it really interesting. The blog is part of a site called 'Vagabonding', dedicated to long-term world travel, and this particular post references an article from the New York Times on the phenomenon of the vanishing summer vacation and whether or not it's a good thing.

I'll spare you the time of reading the NYT piece unless you feel so inclined; It's painfully 'yacht-club' and snarky and just the sort of article that causes people to eschew editorials by waspy Times contributors.

The underlying point of the NYT piece is that vacations are unnecessary in the States because our lives are filled with leisure, from strip-mall day spas to summer homes. (Whose lives? My life?) Furthermore, he indicates that mandated vacation time is a creation of the Nazis.

yawn. The 'Nazi' argument is tired. The Nazis didn't invent vacations. It's a red-herring, nonsense, inflammatory argument. The traditional US summer vacation is not tied to mandated time off anyway, since the US doesn't mandate paid leave. Summer vacations long predate WWII.

Besides, Volkswagens were invented by the Third Reich. Should they be junked too?

I suppose the thing that sticks in my craw about the NYT piece and a lot of other conversations about vacation has a lot to do with priorities. What are we doing here? What makes our time on Earth unique? What do we remember about our days and lives? I doubt any of us will say that "xeroxing" makes the cut. What ever happened to 'Work to live, don't live to work"? Is that not capitalist enough for the times in which we live?

I think we all need a vacation. Not 12 minutes in a tanning bed or a yoga session. A vacation. A hammock. A book. Or, if not relaxation, how about adventure? Travel? Excitement? A sense of place!

The NYT piece also mentions that we feel as if we can't take vacations or else some young ladder-climber will usurp our position back at the office and leave us jobless upon return. Good lord. If that's the sort of level of replacability we all enjoy then how can we ever relax. Let's just sleep in our offices, clutching our Blackberries and sobbing silently.

The value of the money we earn is limited by what it can buy. And what can it buy? Things we need? Sure. A lot of it does. Still, if you had to live poor and cut out a lot of your spending, I'd be willing to bet that you'd be surprised by how little we sometimes value the money that we spend so much of our time (a much more valuable commodity!) making.

Speaking of time, that most valued commodity, you've spent enough time reading this and I've spent enough time writing it. Go take a break. Even if there is a mailroom clerk eyeing your desk. Even if you can take a break next week at a shopping mall massage chair. Even if it's what Hitler would want you to do.

Click

Speaking of other bloggers:

My friend Mac used to live in Chicago and do improv. He dabbled in photography here and there, but was, I think I can safely say, only moderately serious about it? It seemed to rank somewhere between Little Caesar's Pizza and Xbox on his priorities list.

High praise, when you think about it.

Since, he moved to Jacksonville and now out to Southern Oregon and is taking some really cool and very beautiful photos. He's been getting into portraits lately, and the level of work is pretty amazing. Visit his blog. http://www.macisaguy.blogspot.com/

And I promise my next post won't be about somebody else's blog....

Sayonara Bloggy-woggies.

So right over there -----> among the links are a couple of blogs that belong to Sarah and Arnie. Those two are pretty intense bloggers and have each finished year-long blog projects. It's sad to have them end at the same time like that. They're both great blogs. If you're ever feeling froggy, check both out.

Sarah's chronicled her move from Chicago, where she was born and raised, to Boston and back to Chicago.

Arnie's dealt with life in the working world and is a follow-up to his very excellent blog from the previous year, which dealt with the aftermath of a broken engagement and a cross-country move.

I hope they both start new blogs, though I can understand the fatigue maintaining a consistently updated blog must induce.

I guess I don't really know from experience, per se.

I think I went a couple months there with an average of 4 posts a month? And those posts were things like "I enjoy toast. That is all."

At any rate, we the readers of those blogs bid them a fond farewell.

Also, I stole the picture from Sarah.

And a meow morning to you.

My loud, awful, terrifying alarm clock can't wake me up, but my cat can.

She is such a jerk, dude.

KegPig 07

For those of you who have... never had a conversation with me, one of the highlights of my year is a reunion with my college friends known as KegPig. It dates back to the final day of exams my senior year of college when we decided to have a good old-fashioned blowout.

Kegs of beer. A whole pig. Why did we call it KegPig? "KegPigPalooza" didn't get the go-ahead from our copyright attorneys.

It has become an annual event that brings the old App State crew together from all over the place. What could besides a pig pickin'? It's worth the drive to North Carolina, and is an excuse to visit the mountains, play beer pong, and purchase FiberCon.

This year it was around a 140 lb pig. The tastiest yet. My friend Charley made the trip with me and we had a blast. I am, of course, looking forward to KegPig '08.

On the way back, we got stuck in traffic because a semi truck loaded with lemons crashed on I-40 and shut down traffic for miles and miles and miles.

Have the urge to make lemon puns? Don't bother resisting. The local paper didn't. (Looks like they don't keep stories for more than a couple of days. The headline was "I-40 Wreck Ends on a Sour Note", and the lead-in was the old chestnut about life handing you lemons....

Charley and I, after getting free of the wreck, serenaded the still-stuck eastbound traffic with shouts of "Don't Stop Believin'".

I'm sure that brightened up a day or two. It would have if anyone could hear our shouts as we flew down the opposing lane at 70mph. Suckers.

of lemons.

Dirge without music...

Yesterday I found out that an acquaintance from my hometown died by his own hand over the weekend.

I won't go into many details because who needs 'em.

It was a guy I always genuinely liked and respected, and who had gone through some rough times that, I guess, got a little too rough.

I was friendly with him, but my own loss isn't the most unsettling part of the ordeal for me. I have many friends who were very close to him and his family, and it will be a rough few days and weeks for all involved before the long-term effects even set in.

To the Fiennings, and to all others who are touched by this, my regards and my sympathies.

And Henry... the world will be a little dimmer for want of your talent, your wit, and your general presence.

Here's a bit from Edna St Vincent Millay's poem, from which I gracelessly cribbed the title of this post:


Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

Rolling.

Shot a video over at Charley's Sunday. It was a lot of fun.


Um... there was some fake blood.


Delightful.

Daylight

Tuesday morning, I woke up nice and early. It was pleasant out, I had a nice healthy breakfast, and I decided to go work downtown for a while.

I rode the Brown line to Belmont, and an improv friend happened to be on the same car. We chatted. I transferred to the Red line and continued toward the Loop.

Just before North/Clybourn, however, the train stopped so abruptly that everyone who was standing had to move quickly to avoid falling. (A few fell anyway.)

Then the air shut off.

Then the lights died (except for the emergency lights.)

It got warm, then very warm. It was a full car.

A recorded announcement told us that there had been a medical emergency. Then a live announcement told us to pull the emergency exit and move towards the station. We were on the second-to-last car, and were therefore still in the tunnel.

Our train had 'brushed back' someone who was standing too close to the incoming train.

He was on a stretcher with his head covered in bloody bandages as we exited the station.

Mr. Postman, check and see.

A few open letters on a fine summer morning:

Dear CNN,

YouTube wants you to quit beating around the bush and just ask it out already. I mean. It's really obvious. Everyone knows.

----------------------------------------

Dear YouTube users involved in last night's Presidential debate,

Thanks for being involved in politics. That said, stop saying what you did was revolutionary and that it's the first time it's ever happened. If we, as a nation, have waited until 2007 to actually let the electorate ask questions to the politicians, we'd be in a bit of trouble.

That's kind of... um... what that whole democratic republic thing is about.

That is all.

-----------------------------------------

Dear Dell, Motorola, and OneTouch:

I don't know what iPod told you, but having your laptop, cell phone, and glucose meter come in different colors is no substitute for having actual features.

Work on that.

-----------------------------------------

Dear Fiber,

Thank you.

-----------------------------------------

Summer-so-far Scrapbook

I found my camera! Here are some bits and pieces that were kicking around on it that can teach us some lessons about summer.

Lesson 1: Here's what happens when you REALLY decide to put an anti-smoking label on some cigarettes (straight from London).

Lesson 2: Here's the difference between a Fowler Family group shot:
....and a Fowler Family album cover.

Lesson 3: Here's what happens when you get a severe eye infection on a Saturday. Lovely ER.


Lesson 4: Here's what happens when you go to Six Flags on a weekday when they are working on the Batman roller coaster, causing them to only run one train at a time.


Lesson 5: Here's what it looks like when you pack more beer than water in your Six Flags lunch to help alleviate the frustrations of said long line.


What happens? Fun.

It's been a good first-half-of-the-summer.

My Parents.

Monday, the Daddy Man turned 52. He paints houses, prefers short stories to novels, and blasted us full of REM and the Pixies from the moment the albums were released.



Mom turned 51 today.

She hates cooking, loves her sons ferociously, and may or may not know what a blog is.

Happy Birthday, folks.

In Gauge Mints

I suppose it's that time of year.

In the last week, I've been informed that two of my friends have decided to take that big next step towards marriage. (.... two couples, anyway. In one case, both are friends of mine. So I guess it's three friends. You get the idea though.)

It looks like between Shelby and Joe, Adam and Nicole, and Amy and Ricky, I'll be down south for at least three separate weddings next summer. That's cool, though. Should be good times all the way around.

Anyway, congratulations, everybody!

Wheeeeee

Speaking of surprise parties, some friends of mine weren't around for the first round of birthday festivities, so they threw me a surprise shindig.

I'd never had a surprise party before. To those who think I've been drawing out the birthday thing (ahem...), rest assured that if I had any inkling that the party was being planned, I'd have had none of it. It was, however, a good time and a great gift. Thanks to Charley, Amber, and the rest for the yuks and the cake and the beer and the joy.

I snagged these pictures from Sarah and Lindsay's blogs.

Grandmama's 80th.

July 2nd was my Grandma's 80th birthday. I went down to SC to help her celebrate it, and a huge portion of my family made the trip as well. All of my brothers were there, as were all of Grandma's living children and a huge number of her grandkids and great-grandkids.

Grandmama raised nine children, and has, as far as I can count, 24 grandkids (plus 7 grandkids-in-law), and 11 great-grandkids. While raising this army of children, Grandmama also got her masters in education and taught public school for 30 years.

She makes the best pork chops, macaroni and cheese (casserole style), chicken salad, potato salad (she makes mine without the hard-boiled eggs), and (insert dish I forgot here) in the world.

To honor her, we had a surprise party and took photos of the kids, grands, and greats. We also went to church with her on Sunday (Pinewood Baptist was filled to the gills) and had another feast at the lake on Monday, which was her actual birthday. I even wrote a poem for her. Reading it in front of the family was terrifying.

It was a great time.

Sunday, July 1, was also my Uncle Harry's birthday, and this is the first birthday that he hasn't been alive to celebrate. It was good for our family and our Grandmother, to spend this day with the rest of the clan.

Map of the Online World

This map is fairly funny and interesting. If you are a dork. Which I am not.

It came from the strange maps blog (here), which is awesome. Very cool blog.

'Appy Birthday to Me.

(I stole this picture from Sarah's Flickr. I'm a thief. Who can't find his camera.)

For my birthday, my swell friends took me to Ravinia to see a taping of 'Prairie Home Companion.'

I've always been a fan of Garrison Keillor (if you're even remotely progressive, but still respect personal responsibility, his 'Homegrown Democrat' is a great read... and an even better audiobook read by the author), PHC, radio shows, NPR in general, and anything kinda old-timey. While PHC wasn't necessarily a direct influence on 'Fowler Family Radio Hour', the old radio variety show format was, and both FFRH and PHC use such a format, so PHC was the most relevant contemporary example of what we were going for. Shelby and I were taking notes like crazy.

It was really great. We took Sheridan all the way up, which runs along the lake through the ritzy North Shore suburbs. The cicadas were crazy in the trees and we had the top down and some good music.

We brought wine and cheese and crackers and popcorn and Italian Blood-orange soda. (Which is amazing. I had it in Nice and fell in love. They have it at Trader Joes. w00t. )

The music and the stories were great. We relaxed on the lawn and ate and drank. We took Sheridan back home just as dusk started to settle in, and it was a beautiful ride.

Then we went to Gio's, sang karaoke, and got snookered. Good birthday, everyone. You win.

Spoleto

My trip to France was followed immediately by a trip to Charleston. Actually, the timeline went like this:

Friday, May 18: Cowlick performs the last night of Cowlick: The Musical.
Saturday, May 19: I teach a morning class and hit the road by 2pm. I drive to SC.
Sunday, May 20: After getting into Sumter in the wee hours of the morning, I go to Charlotte and get on a plane and fly to London.
Monday, May 21: I arrive in London, go from Gatwick to Victoria Station in Westminster, and mill around. Then I fly to Nice.
Thursday, May 24: I fly back to London. I crash in the airport.
Friday, May 25: Back to the states. Drive back to Sumter. Finish copy for issue of magazine. Drive to Charleston.

It was a long one. The Charleston time was amazing, though. We stayed at the 'Notso Hostel' (God, you're cute, Charleston), which was cool because it was in an old Charleston house with a big front porch adjacent to our room, complete with rocking chairs and a rope hammock.

Our shows were well received (review) and we ate and drank well.

It was a blast to have my family and friends from back home actually able to see my work. I'm used to assuming that no one will see me play outside of Chicago, and that's a long haul from SC.
We also met a girl who knew/ knew of all of us thanks to Arnie's blog (which is linked right over here ======> and worth a read if you aren't familiar).

She did the sheepish thing of "Well, I don't actually KNOW him.... but I read his blog."

Ah, strange internet world.

Anyway, I can't find my camera, and forgot to take many pictures anyway, but you get the idea.

France... at last.

Well, for the seven of you who haven't totally given up on this blog, how about an update? First thing's first. Let's talk about France.

I went to Nice for business. Most of my time was spent in a convention center (which was just like American convention centers, only with good croissants and decent coffee.

My nights were spent at a tiny hotel/hostel called Hotel Wilson. I highly recommend the spot. Delightfully inexpensive (3 nights in a room with a double bed and a single bed, a private bathroom and shower, a great breakfast of toasts and muffins and croissants and fresh baguettes and coffee, all for around 140 euro. That's around 180 bucks in a place where hotels are usually very expensive. Awesome.) No frills, but I dig that. The owner, who lives there, speaks 6 languages. The whole place has a homey feel. The TV only gets 6 channels and only 2 of those are in English, but that includes CNN International, which is way better than the CNN in the US. Who watches TV in Nice, though? Go eat and drink.

No AC, but this was my window:


And these were my cacti. They lived on my window. I named them all Jean-Pierre.


My hotel was on this street:


This is the sort of thing that you can see in Nice. Lovely. This was carved into a cliff face right by the sea.

This is what was immediately behind me as I took that last photo.


Amazing. I can't wait to go back.


Do stay tuned. More updates are coming.

Just de facts.

I'm going to update my blog soon. Seriously.

For now, here's what you need to know:

Europe was fun, Spoleto was fun, and they're filming the new Batman movie in the lobby of the building where I work part-time.

All undeniably cool.

Dispatches from across the pond.

Hey guys.

I thought I'd give you all some updates from my first-ever trip to Europe. I'm in Nice now, and I absolutely love it, but there will be more on that later. For the moment, let's chat about London.

Backstory: Since I needed to be down in SC for next week's Fowler Family Radio Hour (see previous post!) shows, I drove down to Sumter on Saturday and flew out of Charlotte on Sunday. I had to teach Saturday, so I didn't get to Sumter until almost 6am. No biggie. I wanted to be tired on the plane so I could sleep.

Sunday I ate Chinese food with my family, and Sam and Mom took me to the airport. The flight from Charlotte to Gatwick was uneventful. I didn't get to sleep much, but that's because I was flying coach and had about an inch and a half of space between the window and the Halliburton contractor sitting next to me. (Might not have been Halliburton, but he was a DoD contractor headed to Dubai and then Afghanistan, so you do the math.) The two hours I got on the plane plus the 4 hours I got in Sumter mean that between Saturday morning (around 6am) and my arrival in London on Monday (around 8:15, London time), I had banked a total of six hours of sleep. That explains why I nearly passed out in the TATE Britain and took a 300 year old portrait with me... but that's a narrowly avoided international incident for another day.

I had an 11 hour layover in London, so I headed into town. Why not?

The first picture I took before doing so? I picture from the restroom, because I think international signs are hilarious.

.. ahem...

Anyway, the time on the town was great. I took the train into Victoria Station, and had neither a map, nor a gameplan, nor a particularly clear consciousness due to the sleep delerium I had on the back burner.

I wandered some. I stopped off and had a cup of tea. Darjeeling. It was good. I figured it was a must in London, plus it help put me in the mood for some sightseeing.

I caught Westminster Abbey. Beautiful. I didn't go inside, but it was pretty amazing just to be around it.

... and another portion of it....

Here's one of one of the other churches on the Abbey grounds (St. Michael's?) with Big Ben in the background...

This also began my comedy of errors of trying to take a picture of myself.

Could be worse.

Next I strolled over to Parliament where I took this gem.

What a tool.

I took some shots of the Thames next, and you can see the London Eye in the background.

I also made my way to Buckingham Palace and took these classics.

What a moron.

There were red phone booths....

and tiny cars that looked like red phone booths....

(That's a Prius behind it... that's how small this thing was....)

and men dressed in red with hats like phone booths....

and red buses. I didn't take a picture of those....

I also ate Fish and Chips and had a pint of Old Speckled Hen at the Bag O' Nails Pub.

Is all of this cliche? Sure, but give me a break. It was a few hours in London.

More to come.

Fowler Family Radio Hour @ Spoleto!

Hey there cats and kittens.

My blog has lain fallow for long enough. I've been swamped with all sorts of work and play, but it's time to get back on the pony.

How better to do that then through shameless self promotion?!?!?!

A show that I, along with five other native-Southern Chicago transplants, wrote and perform is coming to the Piccolo Spoleto Fringe Festival next week! The show is May 26-29 at Theatre 99 (280 Meeting Street, 2nd level.) Tickets are 15 bucks, and can be purchased through Ticketmaster (though we all know how much TM loves their fees...) or by going to the Piccolo Spoleto Box office at the Gailliard Auditorium. More details on that here.

The show is a good time. We've performed it at several theatres in Chicago, and it has always been well received.

Find us online at www.myspace.com/fowlerfamilyradiohour.

Also, if you aren't sure what I'm getting you into, there's a preview on youtube. Find that here.

From now until the show, I'll be in France for work, but feel free to email me or leave comments here if you have questions.

I hope to see you there!

-Tim

Back to it.

In case you didn't notice... and I am sure you did, but were too polite to mention it.... I had a long lapse in posting, and just played catch-up to get posts about the trip home up and running.

After the trip, I was pretty much toast.

Too much food. Too much beer. Too many nice people. Too much nice weather.

It was a great break. So great that it was tough to face the absolute madness that I encountered upon my return. Deadlines. Class wrap-ups. Show openings. General insanity.

I'll post on all of that later. For now, I need to prepare for more daily grind nonsense.

The Wedding.

Bruce's Wedding was some of this:

A bit of this:

And a lot of this:

Food.

When you've been away from the south and you come back to visit, you are barraged with an incredible bounty of delicious food. Food you can't find in Chicago.

Before the wedding, we were going to hit up Mac's Drive Thru, a Clemson institution. Gorgeous greasy heart-stoppers. Delicious.

It was packed. Therefore, we went here:

What are the odds?

Good food. Not Chicago-style.

Which is fine. For the record.

Bachelor Party

In lieu of the standard ridiculous bachelor party debauchery, Bruce, Ray, Jason, and I went up to the mountains and had a few days of giant steaks, good beer, stogies, xbox, chicken wings, table shuffleboard, and good old fashioned Boone relaxation.

It was pretty fun.

Easter Egg Hunt

Cuter than a basket full of kittens and puppies floating in a magical pool filled with lollipops, candy canes, and baby mermaids.

Spongebob Addiction

My niece Bailey is 19 months old and precocious. (I guess. What do I know about early childhood development? She seems a lot less lame than most sub-2 kids. )

She likes to eat ice. She presses her forehead against stuff. She really likes being thrown in the air and jumping off of stuff. She can differentiate between drinks, and will often ask for water, milk, juice, and tea all in the same sitting. If you give her the wrong drink, she doesn't pout, but she does look disappointed. She quotes Spongebob Squarepants incessantly.

If you've ever seen "Wonderpets", "Doodlebops", or any other program targeted at toddlers and preschoolers, you'd know that a Spongebob obsession is a wonderful thing for a child to have. Those other shows? Terrible. Spongebob? Hilarious.

Still, it's somehow troublesome to see a tiny kid toddling around yelling "Go Gary Go!" or "I'm ready! I'm ready! etc..." or any other common Spongebobism. Does a show about a sponge who lives in a Pineapple who works for a crab and has adventures with his best friend (a starfish) warp a kid's worldview?

I guess no more than a show about a magical street inhabited by a giant flightless bird, a trash monster, and a hairy elephant.

Or, for that matter, a dude who plays with puppets and can't walk in the door without changing his shoes and outerwear...

I miss those shows.

Trip Home

So, I'm down in South Carolina for a bit. I left around 8 on Thursday night and drove through the night. Maybe that sounds like crazy-talk, but here's what it 13 hrs in a car got me:

Chicago:

Sumter, SC:

Not a bad trade.

Strange.

I wish I lived in this house. I'd wear a threadbare smoking jacket all the time.

I saw this on the Reagan Expressway.

Makes sense, I guess. How else would you carry a turn-of-the-century 'high wheel' bicycle on the back of your sensible late-model Honda?