Hump Day Photo

I'm going to try to show you a photo every Wednesday. But since I just realized that today is Tuesday, I guess you're getting this one a day early. This photo was taken off fo My Biggest Fan's dock. As you can see, it was daybreak. I haven't done much with this image, but I've always liked it. I call it Rigging. I have almost the same shot in color, but I like the black & white better.

That's Just Twisted

Here's a link for My Nephew. (I just thought of a new name for him - The Polyglot.)

My Work Bobby Dodd Story

On Tuesday, my employer allowed a group of 20 volunteers to interact with the clients at The Bobby Dodd Institute. We took the clients still enrolled in a work readiness program to The High Museum of Art. We looked at two examples of portraits to see how the artist (and in one case the subject) displayed elements of personality through the art. Afterwards, we went down to one of the museum's work rooms and displayed elements of our personality through own self portrait (I was one of the few volunteers to do a self portrait, which I then left on the bus).

After the workshop, we literally ran through the Andrew Wyeth exhibit. If you have not seen this exhibit, get ye there. It is stunning. I can't believe I'd never heard of Wyeth before. My favorite painting was called "Adrift." (Sorry, but I can't seem to find an image of it on The Internets.)

My Personal Bobby Dodd Story

My father told me an interesting story about Bobby Dodd a couple of weeks ago. I asked him how much time Mama had actually spent with his father. This is the story he told:

First a little background. My father was a cheerleader at Ga Tech. He loved it - both the school and being a cheerleader. He was too small to play football, so that was his only way to get on the field. Through cheerleading he could be on the field and still be sociable. He didn't have to practice nearly as much as the guys who played football. Also, his best friend was a cheerleader too. It was a great thing for him.

So anyway... In case you live outside the state of Georgia, the big college rivalry here is Ga Tech vs. University of Ga. That football game is always played over Thanksgiving weekend. I don't know if Daddy regularly got two tickets to every game because he was a cheerleader or just because he was a student. Anyway, one particular year both of his tickets were spoken for between my mother (who he was only dating at the time) and his brother.

But Daddy really wanted his father to come to the game. Since it was over Thanksgiving, I guess my grandfather decided that he could come. So Daddy was trying to get a third ticket every way he knew. Being the biggest game of the season, he couldn't find a ticket anywhere. He finally decided to go straight to the top and ask Coach Bobby Dodd.

He put on his cheerleading uniform and approached Coach Dodd. He explained that his father had never been to a college game, but he really wanted his father to see this game. He ended his story by asking, "Coach do you have one ticket I can buy?" Coach Dodd answered, "I don't have a ticket you can buy, but you can have this ticket." How cool. My grandfather got to see his son cheer at the biggest game of the year thanks to Bobby Dodd. (I can't find a link to know who won the game, though.)

The touching ending to this story is that my grandfather died on December 7th of that year. So he was in Atlanta all weekend, hung out with my mother, went to the game at Coach Dodd's generosity and then died a couple of weeks later.

Who Would Direct the Film About My Life?

Edward D. Wood, Jr.

Your film will be 50% romantic, 24% comedy, 30% complex plot, and a $ 20 million budget.

Ed Wood will get your film done waaaaay under budget, and will likely make it into a classic film of all time -- for all the wrong reasons. Let's face it, your life isn't terribly exciting to begin with, and it needs some camping up. His resume includes classics such as Plan Nine From Outer Space and Glen or Glenda? He's not afraid to tackle controversial topics, and may insist on portraying a transvestite in your film -- even if you've never seen a transvestite before. He was immortalized in the Academy Award winning Tim Burton film, Ed Wood -- go see it.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
You scored higher than 33% on action-romance
You scored higher than 10% on humor
You scored higher than 16% on complexity
You scored higher than 0% on budget
The Director Who Films Your Life Test

Evidently, my life is pretty boring. What does that say about the people who read about my life online?

Fun Weekend

I had a really fun weekend. I was supposed to work around Stinky Garbage Trailer and the new house of no name. (Is that like Billy Idol's Eyes Without a Face? House Without a Name.) But did I? Of course not, I played all weekend. Spitting Image and his wife came over on Saturday night. My Nephew and a friend of his were there too. We played Nertz. I got quite a kick out of My Nephew's friend. She's hispanic (should that be capitalized?). Nertz is a very fast and frantic game. She was very into the game and she kept making exclamations in Spanish. It was honestly the first time I've ever heard someone say "Andale!" in actual conversation.

The next day, What Am I Thinking? came to my meeting. A huge group went out to lunch after the meeting. That was nice. (I'd forgotten what that was like.) After lunch a friend came over and we played Mexican Dominoes along with My Nephew and What Am I Thinking? That was fun too, even if I didn't win. If I had only gone with the locals who play Canasta on Friday nights, I would have really played all weekend.

Ring, Ring, Ring

I got a home phone when I moved into my new house. I haven't had a land line in about 6 years. I haven't given out this home number to anyone. I don't have voice mail and I'm not home very often. I prefer that people call me on my mobile. So why do I get 4 calls a day? From the same "Toll Free" number? Anyone know what or who is calling from 866.819.5368? If you figure it out, let's call them 4 times a day.

What is Enlightenment?

I Kant remember. ...you had to be there.

Marsh Mellow Sky

This is one of my favorite photos. I took it early one morning from My Biggest Fan's dock. In case the title of the photo is not descriptive enough, it is the reflection of clouds in the water with some marsh grass sticking out. I am curious if people who did not grow up on the marsh find this image appealing. Let me hear your opinions.

Flippin' Class!

I used to work with a woman who took her 3 year old son to gymnastics. It was basically a tumbling class, but her kid called it "Flippin' Class." As it turns out, The Doctor is now taking He Tell Jokes to Flippin' Class.

They're going with two brothers from our congregation. The younger of those brothers actually has some potential so he was moved into a more advanced class on a different night. The older brother and He Tell Jokes were kept in this beginners class. I went last night to see what it was all about.

It's actually pretty interesting. They thought they were just taking a little beginner's class at the local community building. But the place seems pretty serious about gymnastics. The gym is ginormous and there are tons of kids with various trainers using it at the same time. The two guys in charge of the class last night were obviously Russian. I'm guessing they'd been through the Soviet athletics program as gymnasts. That's some serious stuff.

The boys did various rolls and cartwheels down a long mat. They did a couple of things on the palmel horse (I'm too lazy to check the spelling on that). They did a couple of moves on the rings. They played on a trampoline and jumped into foam. They climbed a rope. All things that little boys should love to do. And they did look like they were having fun.

The parents can't go into the actual gym. They (we) have to sit in a very small windowed room looking out at the gym. The view is not very good. You can't really see into all the corners. So we missed the boys playing on the rope. While sitting in that little room, we spoke with one of the mothers. She explained that it was a pretty serious place. Most of the kids train at this place their whole lives. Also, most of the kids try to get gymnastics scholarships to college. Whoa. You should have heard her reaction when The Doctor mentioned that her son was just beginning at 10 years-old. She was like, "He's 10 and he's just now starting?" The Doctor had to emphasize that her son was only doing this for fun and to get a little exercise. The look on the lady's face was like, "Yeah, that's all he's gonna get out of it." And she had seemed so normal up to that point.

I don't really want to comment on the abilities of He Tell Jokes, cause he is just starting, but suffice it to say that I'm thinking of changing his name to Was That Supposed to Be a Cartwheel?

How Rude is Rude?

There are three people in my departments expecting babies in the next three months. Two are female, one is male (so obviously, it's his wife who's pregnant). You know that I just moved into a new house...built by my company. We always have a baby shower when someone is expecting. Typically when the man is the coworker, we try to arrange the shower so that his wife can come.
It doesn't make much sense to have three different showers, so I thought it was a good idea to combine them all into one large shower. Since we'd like for the man's wife to be there and a shower for three people takes a little more planning than for only one person, I also thought it was a good idea to have the shower at my house on a weekend. There's another little thing I was trying to accomplish by having this shower at my house...

We have struggled for the last few years with low morale in our department. We used to be a really tight unit full of people who genuinely liked each other. That has unraveled bit by bit. I thought that if we could get together in an informal atmosphere with everyone's families present, morale may benefit from that. Surely, the three people who were getting gifts from us would appreciate it.

Turns out...not so much. Two of the three actually said that they didn't want to drive all the way to my house on a weekend. Well, I'm sorry they couldn't be bothered to receive gifts and well-wishes. So I'm stepping back to let someone else handle the shower. I was just trying to be nice and they spit in my face. I give up.

Disclaimer

A word of warning - If you choose to hit the "Next Blog" button at the top of this page, read at your own risk. Someone else did that and came across a page that was nothing but a discussion of the sexual exploits of a 47 year old man. (That phrase should generate some search engine hits.) I am not responsible for what you read after you leave my blog.

Being Too Tuned In

I think there is a thing as being too tuned in to someone else's sense of humor. It can get you into trouble. This used to happen at business meetings with me and Joe Samurai. Now it's happening at meetings in my new congregation with my family. My brother, My Nephew, The Doctor and I all have the same sense of humor. We catch little mistakes that people say which totally change the meaning of their message.

For example, a couple of weeks ago, one brother was talking about how kids should conduct themselves during the flag salute at school. (By the way, we don't salute the flag, but we will stand respectfully while others do so.) The speaker missed one little letter and said, "fag salute." Totally new connotation. I was sitting next to The Doctor. I could see my brother and My Nephew over to the right of me. All of them started laughing as soon as the phrase was out of the speaker's mouth. Except, they couldn't just laugh out loud. They're trying to be silent, but I could still see their shoulders shaking. I had to put my head down so that I couldn't see them. That didn't work, I could still see The Doctor shaking out of the corner of my eye. My final trick was to hold my nose. The idea is that I can't laugh if I can't breathe. (I learned that from Infectious Laughter.) That worked until my mind started to wander. (If you can't tell, I have a unique imagination.) I started seeing flags with rainbows on them and gay men in shiny broadway-ish costumes carrying these rainbow flags in a Color Guard with their jazz hands and spirit fingers. It was all I could do to control myself.

Last night my brother did something that was so silly, but hysterical. He was sitting between me and his wife. He was not doing something that she wanted him to do, so she nudged him and told him to do it. Before he complied, he reached over to nudge her back. She was sitting with her legs crossed - the one on top coming over towards him. Instead of just nudging her, he reached down and tapped her knee right where a doctor hits you to check your reflexes. Sure enough, her leg kicked out in reaction. It was so automatic that there was nothing she could do to stop herself. I didn't realize what he was doing until her leg kicked out. I don't think he expected it to work either. When it did, we both started laughing. What made this situation worse is that we were in a very small room with only about 30 people. Thankfully, we were sitting on the back row. But if I hadn't gotten control of myself, it would have been very obvious and embarrassing.

It's been so long since I've been in a congregation with people who I'm so tuned in to. I forsee lots of embarrassing moments.

Why I'm a Dork

So I've been working with the guys in my neighborhood on a project. I gave them some software to test out for me. I stopped by the construction trailer today to let Super Fabulous Builder Man update me on the manual process he uses instead of this particular program. It's nothing fancy, but I wanted to hear him out to make sure I can meet all of his needs.

After we were finished and we were standing around shooting the breeze, he mentioned to me that he couldn't use the new program anyway since there was no power to his PC. Well, duh. I needed to know that last week when the problem occured. So I told him I could fix it.

I knew it would take a while to fix, but I'm not good at estimating time. Since I live in the neighborhood and they have a key to my house, I figured they would just let me have a key to the trailer and I could lock up. Super Fabulous Builder Man wouldn't hear of that. I don't know if he didn't trust me or what. He claims that he could not leave me there after dark with a good conscience. That freaked me out a little, 'cause I, uh, LIVE there. What kind of neighborhood does he think it is? If someone was gonna snatch me out of the trailer, they'd just as soon snatch me out of my house.

Anyway, while I'm updating the PC, he's chatting away about all kinds of things. I finally said something that rang a bell in his head. He said, "Oh yeah, when you're filling out the customer survey...don't bubble in your income range." I was a little confused. I remember filling out the survey. But I have looked for it in the online system - it's not there. The sales agent did not enter it. What I didn't realize is that they make a physical copy of the piece of paper and stick it in the job folder. That job folder sits in the trailer and anyone with access to those files can look at it. D'oh!

I was messing around on some of the questions when I filled that survey out. There's one question that asks who referred you to purchase from us. I put down the name of the CEO. And technically that is true, but I would not have written it if I'd realized how many people could look at the survey. So I believe all the guys in the neighborhood know my salary range. But we used White Out to mark through my answer so that no one in future can look through it. Peep show is over, move along, nothing to see here.

And THAT is why I'm a dork. (Well, I'm sure there are lots of other reasons, but that is why I'm a dork for today.)

The Weekend Update

I went home to Savannah over the weekend. A cousin of mine was recently married and his brother threw a reception for him at his house. It was a low-country shrimp boil. Yummy, yummy, for my tummy!

It was quite an evening. I saw relatives that I haven't seen in years - one cousin I hadn't seen in...10 years? I also got to watch lots of relatives get drunk. There's always drinking involved at family parties, but some of my cousins (and cousins' wives) were more tipsy than I've ever seen them. It was quite enlighting.

The new cousin seems like a nice girl. I didn't get to talk to her much, but she laughed at at least one of my jokes.

That's about all to report on the weekend.

Three is a Magic Number

Especially if it's doubled - as in:

Horse N. Buggy turns 33 today.

If I only celebrated my birthday (or drank to excess), I'd be getting stinkin' drunk tonight. But I don't, so I won't. I'll be driving to Savannah with What Am I Thinking?

Big Boyz Update

The meeting went well. It's funny. The girl (woman - whatever, she's younger than I am and I still think of myself as a girl) who is technically the Project Manager on this initiative was too nervous to speak. So she asked me to do all the talking, even though I'm just the "IT Contact." No biggie. Evidently, she gets nervous around the CEO. He doesn't make me nervous in the slightest. The man who makes me nervous is the owner of the company. I get all dry-mouthed and tongue-tied around him.

Anyway, my boss and his boss both showed up. I didn't think they would. But it didn't matter to me either way. Essentially, we have this piece of software that we want to buy, but the price is going up after January 1st. We're not really ready to roll it out yet, but we wanted to tell "The Big Boyz" about it in case they wanted to jump on the lower pricing still available. Everyone basically agreed that it sounds like a good idea and something we will pursue, but we're not going to commit this month. That's what I expected, so I was in no way disappointed. In fact, I was encouraged that the CEO was much more up-to-speed on it than I expected him to be.

I'm just really proud of myself for not being nervous in the slightest. But I can't rest on my laurels for too long. I have to present another project to them within a couple of weeks and that one won't go as well. I fully expect them to shoot it down and I can't honestly say that I disagree with them. We shall see.

Big Day Tomorrow

I have to present a project proposal to the "Big Guys" tomorrow. These guys are so important that they named their weekly meeting an acronym of the initials of their first names. Everyone in the company uses this acronym like it's some official word like SCUBA. So what am I doing? Was I in bed by 9:00 like I'm supposed to be? No, I'm up blogging to you about my DMV experience. I'm gonna totally suck tomorrow. Or just fall asleep in the middle of the 10 minute presentation. That'd make an impression, doncha think?

Oh and, I'm leaving town and I haven't packed yet.

"Scroll buttons and the lappy..."

Uh, scroll down to a post that I started on Tuesday. I thought that it would show up today if I actually posted it today. No dice. I plan on adding to it throughout the future. You should plan on being referred back there often.

Fulton in da House

...or garage. Yes, boys and girls, I began my day by paying my 2006 car registration. My car now proudly declares that I live in Fulton County...and I've got a whole in my checkbook to prove it. Ouch! Fulton car tags are a lot more expensive than Clayton. When the lady announced the total, I almost corrected her and said, "No, I'm not late, it doesn't expire until tomorrow. Surely that is the regular fee plus a late fee." But I refrained.

I then moved on to the DMV. Jolly good day. I got there 7 minutes after it opened and it was packed. Let me explain how this place works. You stand in a queue (Madonna's got nothing on me, I can pretend I'm English, too.) to get to the people who assign you a number. You tell them what you're here to do: renew, renew with change of address (me), take a written test, take a road test, etc. They assign you a number like, oh, let's say, "A014." After you get your number, you go sit in the chairs (like you're an extra on "ER"). And there you sit until they call your number and tell you which station to go to.

So, like I said, I got there just after the place opened. The chairs were 40% full and the queue had about 20 people standing in it. People must have been lined up outside before opening - and it was butt cold this morning.

After I got my number, I headed over to the chairs to sit behind "the hot guy." Naturally, I have to qualify that phrase because it wasn't so much that he was actually hot hot, but just that he was the hottest guy in the DMV at 9:20 this morning. (Actually, he kinda reminded me of Jr Bourne, which is why I noticed him in the first place. I do think Jr Bourne is hot, hot, hot and, um hot.) The "hot" guy was dressed well. He had on a suit and a dress coat. More guys should wear dress coats, they look so good. Anyway, enough about the hot guy.

So, I'm sitting in chairs and they keep calling out random numbers: "A002", "B004", "G702", "0984", etc. I never figured out the numbering system. I did, however, have the overwhelming urge to yell out "BINGO!" a couple of times. I wonder what they would have done? Sure someone else has done that. It also crossed my mind to run screaming to my station when they finally called my name as if I'd just been selected to be a contestant on "The Price is Right." Again, surely someone has done that before? Or maybe I was the only one in that room playing TPIR theme music in my head each time they called out a new number.

The lady who took all my info was new. She was being trained by a guy who'd done it for a while. She wasn't familiar with the screen layout, yet. She'd ask me a question, "Address?" I'd answer, she'd begin typing and he'd ask all kinds of other questions. I answered, but it got her all kinds of confused. She finally told him to shut up, she'd ask all the questions at her own pace. The best thing is that I got to renew my license for ... 10 years!!!! I don't have to go back until I'm in my 40's! Woo to the hoo. Except, I probably won't live in this place for 10 years, so they just suckered me out of an extra $10. Woo to the boo.

The new lady released me and said they'd call my number again to take my photo. Remember, I'd been watching the "hot guy" go through this. He sat back down for about 10 minutes before they called his number a second time. I figured that I had enough time for a potty break. (Gee, thanks H&B, did we need that much detail? Yes, keep readin'.) What I neglected to tell you before is that when they call out numbers, you can hear it from across the parking lot. Since the bathroom was inside the building, I assumed that I'd be able to hear my number called from in there. Nope. They must have sound proofed that puppy, can't hear nothing. So I step out of the bathroom, walk over to the chairs and hear ... my name being yelled out. Wha? I thought they only called out numbers?

I got all frazzled. How embarrassing to have to be called up by name at the DMV. The lady taking photos, getting signatures and fingerprints was also training a new girl. But she wasn't letting her trainee do the work. She was no-nonsense. She barked out, "Place your left index on the red light." Me: "Huh?" Sergeant DMV: "Place your left index finger on the red light...to your left." (I guess now would be a good time to tell y'all that I don't really know my left from my right. I have to really think about it and when I'm under pressure like this I always go the opposite direction. Every fiber of my being thinks the left side of my body is the "right" side and vice versa.) So already being frazzled, she was also playing on my biggest weakness. I must have looked like a moron. I seriously had to say, "That's this side," and hold up my left hand.

Somehow I got through the left/right index finger situation and was able to coherently sign my name. My photo ... it didn't turn out as well as the signature. Is it just me, or is picking out what to wear a big deal? For years, I always wore navy or green in photos. Then my mother convinced me that I looked best in red. So for the last 15 years, I've worn a red shirt in all my photos. I decided to go back to green this morning. I also decided not to wear a turtle neck. And for some stupid reason, I wore my hair straight. I know that I don't like photos of myself with straight hair. But I had to wear my hair straight for a photo that will stick with me for ... 10 years. What a dork. A flat haired dork. With weird spaces in her bangs. ARGGGGGGGG!

The ? Hostelry

Last post I asked you to come up with a name for my new house. It may help if you knew a little about it...

It's a townhouse - 3 story.

The first story is the garage, unfinished space for a future bathroom and small room, and foyer (hardwood floors).

The second story is all hardwood floors and 9 foot ceilings. The first room is large and is supposed to be the living room and dining room, I'm not using it as a dining room so it is just a large living room with two sofas, two builtin bookcases and a fireplace. Then you walk past the powder room to get to the kitchen and breakfast room. My breakfast room is large enough to accomodate my dining room table without the leaf (good thing, 'cause I don't have a leaf). The kitchen has cabinets along three walls and an island separating it from the breakfast room. Just beyond the kitchen/breakfast room is the sun room. The sun room is 10'x12' and just large enough for my tv armoir and two club chairs. Off the sun room (behind the kitchen) is a small deck, but since I block the door with one of the club chairs, I'm thinking that I won't go out there much.

The third floor is all carpet and 10 foot ceilings. (Yes the ceilings are taller on the third floor, maybe to let the heat get further away from me?) There's a laundry room (you should have heard my father freak out about that, he didn't understand how wonderful that is). The front side of the house has a guest bedroom (possibly soon to be occupied by one of my loud and highly energetic cousins) with its own bath. The linen closet is just outside that bedroom. Then my room is down the hall on the back of the house. Three rooms make up my "suite" (sweet!). There's my actual bedroom (the walk-in closet would be considered a fourth room in NYC), my sitting room (just above the sun room, so it's the same dimensions) and my bathroom with shower, whirlpool tub and separate little toilet room. (I never had a separate little toilet room before!)

It's in the middle of an 8 unit building that faces a street. The street doesn't have much on it right now, but is about to be built up. The only thing on it right now is a fire station a few blocks south. Yes, I do hear sirens in the middle of the night...but it's better than that lady who used to stand on her porch and scream at the top of her lungs for her dog to come back inside. (Seriously, anyone want a good deal on a double-wide? Bad neighbors? No, no, the neighbors are peachy.)

You can see my dilema...it's too nice to make fun of. And I haven't done enough livin' in it to have any funny stories yet. It will all come, maybe I'm just rushing this name thing.

A Name for the New Pad

I used to refer to my old place as Stinky Garbage Trailer. (By the way, anyone want a good deal on a vacant double-wide? It DOES NOT smell funny! Who gave you that idea?) But I have no idea what to call my new house.

My garage door is in the style of a carriage door. (That's right, I got a garage...I'm living large. I even park in it, too.) Combine that with my online name and I was thinking of calling it The Stable or the Carriage House. But those are too lame. I need a name with more spunk. It's just that this place doesn't have much spunk...it's too...nice. It needs character. (Sure, hanging my art and putting up curtains or blinds may give it character, but don't rush me.)

But seriously, I'm keeping this place clean (or cleaner than any other place I've ever lived). While it does feel like home, 'cause I love it, no names jump out at me.

The Hostelry? I need some adjectives. The Boring Hostelry? The You Can Come, But Don't Stay Too Long Hostelry? You think of a name.