A few cool things lately.

The other night, the moon was near-full and I was with some friends, and we drove up Lakeshore, stopped at Montrose Harbor, and checked out the moon. There were tons of people out enjoying what may be among the last of the gorgeous summer nights.

Weird bit: We heard what sounded like waves moving out of the harbor and into the lake. It seemed clear that there was something dark in the water. At first I thought it was a rowboat or some other small boat with no lights, but when it passed into the moonlight, there was no boat. If we'd been in salt water, I would have said a dolphin or whale. They do call the August full moon the "Sturgeon Moon". Maybe a big ol' fish was catching some moon rays.

Great night.

Also, Sunday night Charley, his friend Brooks from Atlanta, and I went up to Alpine Valley to see the Dave Matthews Band. Go on. Make fun. It was a great show. They're great live. I hadn't seen them in years. We went up to Milwaukee first and had some food and some beers. It was my first time going to rather than through Milwaukee. Good town, it seems. I look forward to going back.

ALSO! This weekend App plays University of Michigan. We're meeting at Bowman's around noon to watch. Send me a note if you want details.

Boom.

Thun-dah!

Man. These storms have been out of control. Floods. Downed trees.

Intense.

I was downtown with Charley and his friend from Atlanta when we looked up and saw a curtain of rain approaching.

Drip.

Drop.


Downpour. 0-100 in seconds. We picked a door to the Nordstrom's mall downtown and darted in out of the rain, water pouring from our clothes, glasses fogged and streaked with rain.

We'd ducked into the street entrance of an upscale boutique.

We attempted to walk through the store as if we were shopping for a new cashmere scarf. Our shoes were filled with water.

Car Trouble

I had set aside a little money, and was tossing around a couple of options. Pay some things off. Maybe take a little trip. Update the ol' wardrobe.


My car was kind enough to decide for me. New starter and a new serpentine belt.

Awesome!


grumble grumble.


An afternoon trip to Rockford turned into two days, a rented Buick, reworn clothing, and a revamped week's schedule.


It would only have been more fun if it had been less expensive by hundreds and hundreds of dollars.

Zugswang

Last night, Cowlick had a show at the Playground. It was fun, but the aftermath was even more fun. We went to Guthrie's, which is a pretty great bar with a big cabinet filled with board games. People come and drink and play games. They allow (and encourage) you to order food from the takeout joint of your choice. It's a good place.

Cowlick has a tradition of playing Balderdash (shown above in a stock photo from holy_crap_that's_pixelated.org) and it gets.... I think.... pretty hilarious.

You know the game, right? You get an obscure word and everyone makes up a definition, writes it down, and hands it in. Then a reader reads all of the definitions without telling anyone whose is whose or which one is the correct one. Then everyone guesses. Funny, right?

I can't post most of the answers here. The later it got and the more beer we had, the more likely they were to contain euphemisms and not-so-euphemisms.

One cleaner example. I forget the word, but Martin's definition was: A method of curing bed-wetting during the Spanish Inquisition. Hint: It involved stakes. Sharp, sharp stakes.

Guess you had to be there?

ALSO!!!!!!!!!!! Saw the first pictures of BJ and Janelle's baby-to-be. He/She is around an inch long and looks suspiciously like a bean. BJ hopes its a boy because he'll be a wreck if it's a girl, wrapped firmly and securely around her tiny digit from the word 'go'.

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.