Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Page 4

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 26

As my few fans may have noticed, I’ve posted a few more pics lately. There’s a few reasons for that. First, I said early on I wanted to post black and white pics and I really haven’t followed through on it. Second, I got a new phone. After existing in the Android universe for three years, I finally returned to Apple. The change brought with it a better camera than my previous phone and no excuse not to take pictures. The third reason is a little more complicated and deserves its own bullet point.

Ms. Boss recently asked us to accompany her to the local art museum for her recent birthday. As I believe I mentioned previously, she was a fine art major in college and still enjoys exercising that part of her mind on a regular basis. This particular visit included a guided meditation session on an art installation that used light shining through cutouts to display different patterns on the wall. The high point of the session for me was an instruction by the leader to spend a few minutes outside my comfort zone in a meditative state. When it comes to groups, I like to float on the periphery, to hang back, to occupy the back rows of the room, so to speak. Following instructions, I got right up close to the artwork with my nose one inch from the art piece shining the patterns. I was rewarded with an immersive experience. The artwork existed all around me, enveloped me, and seared an image in my brain I won’t soon forget. The lesson I learned that day was to get close to those things around me and truly notice them. What I’m trying to do is share that with you, dear reader, through photography. I take black and white photos of patterns I see around me and try to immerse us – you and I – in them.

I’ve said this for years, but as each year goes by the meaning behind the words changes and becomes even deeper. Being married is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It’s also the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. This year, I’m trying to be more immersed in my marriage. It’s difficult to block everything else out and focus on that one thing. I fail miserably time and time again, but every once in awhile I get it right – and am handsomely rewarded for it.

Its a rainy October Sunday as I write this from the front porch of my house. What started as sprinkles grew into a soaking, steady rain. Ms. Boss is seated to my right working hard to get caught up with last week’s work before diving into next week. Before starting this post, I dehulled some of the black walnuts that have fallen in our yard with the hope of shelling them in a week or so. Together, we’ve worked, had a hot beverage or two, enjoyed the solitude and the sound of the falling rain. When she turned and told me she loved me out of the blue, I knew there was no place either of us would rather be.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 25

If there’s a center to my universe, it has to be Sunday brunch at the Boss household. Ms. Boss whips up some fine breakfast food – I can’t decide whether French toast or biscuits are my favorite – and serves some excellent coffee. I read the New York Times aloud from the kitchen table and we discuss the issues of the day as coffee house jazz plays in the background. If all that isn’t good enough, there comes a moment during this time when she drops the spatula and I put aside the Times and we hold each other close and let the beat guide us and the love overtake us. It never gets old.

The universe had to come from somewhere. Our ‘big bang’ occurred on our second date. Ms. Boss worked Saturday though Wednesday evening shift while I worked Wednesday through Saturday midnights. By process of elimination, we determined that the only possible time we could have a date was on Sunday morning. I got home from work just after 7, she showed up shortly afterwards. I made breakfast – I can’t remember whether it was cheese grits or cream of wheat. What I do remember is that we talked… and we talked… and we talked for hours. While you may not perceive this from my writing, I’m definitely not a talker. Morning became afternoon and a Sunday became a lifetime. The one thing I know? Everything is good as long as the two of us continue talking.

Some of you may have already gleaned that the pivotal moment of my life referred to above was our second date. We did manage a spontaneous first date a few days before what was supposed to be our first date. This trip to the local pub was not one of my greatest moments. I gave her plenty of reasons never to date me again both figuratively and literally. Despite the fact that I was at a pub, beer had nothing to do with it because I hadn’t had a drop – it was my native ‘charm’ plain and simple. It is a miracle that she ever showed at my house for the second date. It is an even greater miracle she has stayed with me for sixteen years.

Ms. Boss’ life has not been an easy one. Filled with twists and turns and obstacles aplenty, she has made herself successful by her own sheer will and her ability to adapt. As her husband, I’m proud of what she’s accomplished and grateful for all that she’s done for our family.

I’ve tried in vain for several weeks to come up with a single word that describes Ms. Boss and I just can’t come with one that does the trick. Even ‘my everything’ is two words. I’m more smitten with her today than I have ever been.

I’ve set out in this entry to introduce you to the love of my life, but in that regard, I feel I have failed. Such is the enormity of her presence in my life that words cannot possibly capture it all in a way that I find adequate. I can only hope that you, dear reader, will be able to discover her for yourself as I continue the journey that is this blog.

One final word – should fate some day take the sparkle out of her beautiful eyes forever, I will be truly lost.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 24

I started my last post off by telling you, dear reader, about taking care of a septic problem in my house. What I didn’t tell you is that Ms. Boss sent me a text that very evening about how I was her knight in shining armor – her hero. I aspire to be nothing more.

I like modern day super hero movies because I like modern-day super heroes. Most modern-day super heroes have struggle that they must overcome to be worthy of the title, not to mention a full-length feature. They are both human and more than human at the same time. Perhaps I like them because they suggest that someone as flawed as me can be a hero.

Growing up, my friends and I pretended to be super heroes as many children do. Who was I? I was the mighty Cat Diesel Power – an identity I derived from a Catepillar Tractor hat I wore at times while growing up. My super power? – the million watt shock. Strangely enough, this would become my signature disco dance in the late single digits of my life. Fortunately for everyone, I grew out of this stage of my life.

If could possess a super power these days, it would be flying. If nothing else, it would make my commute oh so much more tolerable.

One of the most earth-shattering moments of my life occurred in junior English Literature when I read The Scarlet Letter. The fact that a preacher could be the villain just rocked my rather naive view of the world. So sorry if this snippet is a plot spoiler for anyone.

I still occasionally fantasize about scoring a touchdown in football and being the hero of the game. Seeing as I’m an out-of-shape forty-six year-old that barely had the talent to play offensive tackle thirty years ago, this won’t happen. Still, the marching band playing the fight song because of what I did still sounds sweet in my dreams.

Was I ever a sports hero ever? Yes, once. The score was tied heading into my wrestling match against a team we had never lost to. With the only match after mine almost guaranteed to be a loss by pin, I need to pin my opponent to guarantee we wouldn’t lose. I knew I could win, as poor of a wrestler as I was, my opponent was even worse. I dominated the match, but just couldn’t seem to get the job done and was in danger of winning the match by a technical fall which would have left us a point short and my coach made sure I was well of this (as an aside, he was 5’3″ and I’m 6’3″ which made him getting in my face a little almost humorous). With time running out I got him on his back and squeezed as hard as I could. When the ref slapped the mat signalling the pin, I jumped up and immediately pointed at my father – the only person in the building more excited than me. He pointing back at me is perhaps one of my fondest memories. I’m actually crying as I type this – despite everything, he’s still my hero.

Until next time, go out and try to be someone’s hero. I’ll try my best to keep being Ms. Boss’ hero.

Random Semicoherent Thought – Volume 23

I’m not sure if my one or two readers have noticed, but my ‘Random Semicoherent Thoughts’ aren’t really all that random. They generally revolve around a theme or go semi-loosely from point A to point B. Perhaps ‘Curated Semicoherent Thoughts’ would be the more appropriate title.

I got promoted. Ms. Boss got a new job. In just three weeks, the eldest Bosslet will be moving away to college. The other three Bosslets will be progressing to their next schools. Only the dog hasn’t changed in the five plus months since I last checked in. As Steve Miller sang, ‘Time keeps on slippin, slippin, slippin into the future.’

The list of professional’s that I’m supposed to see now includes ‘cardiologist’. No, I’m not going to die but it did scare the poop out of me in the moment. Like many things in this world, however, I’ve made past the shock stage. Perhaps that’s why this snippet starts with ‘supposed to see’ rather than ‘have seen’.

Forty pounds, or slightly more optimistic, almost forty pounds – that’s how much I’ve gained since my low point almost two years ago. I’m actually ashamed about this, but not so much that I’ve turned the tide for any meaningful length of time. Even adding ‘cardiologist’ to my list of life needs hasn’t fixed this.

Sometimes life does offer you opportunities to rise to the challenge. Ms. Boss and I were climbing into bed for the evening when Ms. Boss mentioned that something in the house smelled like poop. Unfortunately, we found out that what she was smelling was literal poop backing up into our shower. Investigation revealed out sceptic tank was full and backing up into the house. A good friend once told me in the Nineties that any household problem costs $200. Accounting for inflation, I just knew a $300 check was going to be written the next day. I am happy to report that wasn’t case. Imagine my glee as a tool I erroneously bought from the hardware school but failed to return combined with some basic knowledge of physics led me to find and fix the problem in less than an hour. Unfortunately for me, my moment of triumph was cut short by a crisis at work that didn’t turn out nearly as well.

Have I mentioned in my blog lately how much I love Ms. Boss? No, I haven’t and that’s a total shame.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 22

I lament the demise of the potluck. Once upon a time when you went to a potluck, you would find the best in homemade food. You soon began to recognize who always brought the best food – Mrs. Jones’s potatoes, Mrs. Smith’s cookies – and made a beeline for them. That doesn’t happen anymore. Potlucks devolved into a gathering of the best things we can find at the grocery store. I have to admit, I’m guilty. Despite my slightly above-average ability to cook, a trip to Kroger usually is the extent of my efforts for most potlucks anymore.

Happiness is when Ms. Boss makes a pie for a potluck. Wait a minute, let me correct that statement – happiness is when Ms. Boss makes a pie. Period.

Desserts were the last bastion of homemade cooking. Not any more. I went to a chili supper the other day only to find that the overwhelming majority of the offerings came straight from a box.

Casseroles aren’t a thing anymore either. Growing up, we had casserole all the time. I used to make them quite a bit, but even I have given up on that one. One of the reasons they’ve died? They all tend to taste the same. Take your pick: cream of mushroom, cream of chicken, cream of cheddar. One of the best recipes I acquired was from a Mennonite cookbook on how to make cream of mushroom. The most important part is that cream of mushroom doesn’t have to be just cream of mushroom. Make a basic white sauce and let the other ingredients come from you imagination.

I’ve thought of another idea for a blog – go around the country and visit various church, community, or fund raising suppers and write about it. I’m not just talking about a review of the food, write about the community that has come together around this food. While I’d enjoy the travel, being an anti-social introvert doesn’t help with this kind of endeavor. Besides, my current blog is more than enough.

Smoked sausage was part of my culinary heritage growing up. A certain restaurant chain made their smoked sausage in my hometown. Attempts to sell it in grocery stores failed miserably, but if you were a local and went the factory and said you were having a picnic they’d sell you a huge box. That happened a lot. Spicy, smoky, juicy in a bun with mustard -what’s not to like? They don’t even make them anymore, that’s sad.

Deviled eggs. Deviled eggs were a favorite at potlucks when I was growing up. My father absolutely loved them. I miss him.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 21

My youngest daughter, 10, is taking gifted classes at her school. As part of her instruction, the teacher introduced chess to class. This makes me happy because, if for nothing else, I’m now playing chess for the first time in twenty-some years. Just about every night, the youngest and I pull out the chess board for a few matches. I’m happy to report that she beat me for the first time last night with no assistance whatsoever from me. It took a few tears and quite a few beat downs to get to that point, but I am absolutely proud of her accomplishment.

Taking chess up for the first time in a long time has been an interesting prospect for me. I really wasn’t very good at it growing up – on more than one occasion, someone I taught to play beat me the second or third game after I instructed them. Like many things, I find approaching it with the wisdom that comes with age brings a new perspective. As the Chinese proverb says, I’m ready to learn and the teacher has appeared in the form of a ten-year old girl, though I will admit that the internet has also served up a lesson or two.

A very wise acquaintance of Ms. Boss and I once told us that he and his wife did not play games together for the sake of their marriage. Ms. Boss and I have ignored this advice and occasionally suffered the consequences. For the denser partner in the marriage, Ms. Boss pointed out that the lesson here is that marriage should be about cooperation and never about competition. A smart woman, that Ms. Boss.

One of the games Ms. Boss and I play with a minimal amount of acrimony is backgammon. While backgammon does involve a certain amount of skill, luck plays a heavy part in it. We used to play online when I worked midnights and she was stuck at home with the kids. We didn’t play for the sake of backgammon, we played for the conversations we had on the side that allowed us to be together while not being together.

I used to love playing games as a kid – Monopoly, Pay Day, chess, backgammon, cards – we spent hours playing with other kids and the occasional adult. Unfortunately, playing with my kids has often become a frustrating experience – they just can’t seem to stay focused. That’s why playing with my newly-minted chess player has been so rewarding. She’s actively engaged and studying the game.

One of my favorite games growing up was Bonkers! (for the record, the exclamation point was part of the title, not an indication of my excitement) Bonkers! was a board game that changed every time you played it based on the tiles that you played on the board. I’m sure the fact that few have ever heard of it is an indication of the quality of the game. Being the forty-something and often full of nostalgia, I might possibly weep openly if I were to run across an opportunity to own this game again.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 20

I turn 46 this week. I’m still trying process that particular piece of information.

If I had to pick the most difficult year of my life to navigate, I’d have to pick 27. Quite a few things happened that year that started to make a hard look at where I was in life and where I was headed. I used to say I had my head fully in my hindquarters until I was 31, sometimes I’m not sure it still isn’t in there.

I’m almost 46. I’ve been married almost 15 years. That means I was 31 when I got married. Based on the statements that you’ve read so far in this post, I’ll let the reader draw their own conclusions.

One of the more soul-crushing experiences in my life was the first time I discovered that I was too old to apply for a job. It seems that you have to be younger than thirty to be an air-traffic controller – something I contemplated doing once upon a time in my life. For the record, police officer, firefighter, and soldier are also no-go’s.

In my twenties, a half case a beer was the standard for a weekend night. I currently have a part of a six-pack in my fridge that’s headed into its fourth week of habitation.

Reviewing my life, I really shouldn’t be here. Stupidity or hubris should have killed me well before now.

In my twenties I wanted to play a electric bass in the worst way. My eldest daughter has a spare one in her room, I’ve never picked it up. I could say that I don’t have the time or we don’t have a second amp and get away with it, but that isn’t the reason. If I had the passion for it, I’d find a way. Besides, I’ve moved on to pining over the cello.

My FitBit today informed me that I exercised for sixteen minutes. I didn’t. As near as I can figure, I got credit for playing air guitar while playing dinner. I wonder what my neighbors must think about a man my age rocking out to Minor Threat in his kitchen. They probably thought I was having a seizure.

Speaking of Minor Threat, I wish I would have known about them in the early 90’s. They’re a recent addition to my playlist. See? An old dog can learn new tricks.

I find hard core punk to be quite motivational on my runs. Why? ‘Punk’ and ‘slow song’ are generally mutually-exclusive terms.

Speaking of running, that hasn’t happened much the past few days. I put quite a few miles in early this week, then managed to get sick with some sort of upper respiratory thing. Getting sick when you have to ‘adult’ really sucks and the older you get, the worse it gets.

I don’t work my birthday, not if I can help it. I had one really horrendous experience once while working my birthday – someone (not me) got suspended, my employer got sued, and the people we worked for were… err… not very nice – and I’ve only worked one or two times since. This week is no exception. I plan on enjoying myself.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 19

‘Tis the season for making New Year’s resolutions – like resolving to write more in one’s blog. The season for breaking New Year’s resolutions is also fast approaching.

It has been so long since I’ve post on my blog that even Nigerian spammers have forgotten me…

Speaking of New Year’s resolutions, last year’s was to run a thousand miles in a year.

I didn’t make it.

Saying I didn’t make it doesn’t mean I failed per se, it just means I didn’t realize the lofty goal that I set rather flippantly in the middle of a run before doing any real math about the issue. With 612 miles logged for the year, I just missed the consolation prize of thousand kilometers but was obviously well short of my target. I don’t consider my miss a glass half empty, but a glass 61.2% full. In the end, I came much closer to realizing my resolution than most.

For the record, the resolution for this year is to beat 612. With only five miles on the books so far this year, I’m not off to the best of starts.

A longer, more coherent post would have fleshed out my run resolution into a full blown essay which would . Here in Random Semicoherent World, I can just draw a line and pivot to a completely idea, like this list of my running highlights for 2016:

5) The first nine miles of my second half marathon run with Ms. Boss. The last four after her leg of the relay was finished, not so much.

4) Running a color run with Ms. Boss and my youngest Bosslette. While I don’t need to run another color run ever, I did enjoy being active with one of my daughters.

3) Running with Ms. Boss and my sister on Thanksgiving morning. The two sisters-in-law talked the entire time, the longest conversation they’ve had in years.

2) A moment of joy for Ms. Boss during a race on a cold day when she realized the people up ahead were handing out tissues. I’ve never seen anyone so joyful for an opportunity to blow their nose in my life. It made me smile for her happiness.

1) The thirteenth mile of my third marathon with the tears streaming down Ms. Boss’ face when she saw the finish line and knew that her first half marathon was in the books. She worked hard for that moment and I was privileged to be there with her when we finished hand in had.

Despite my running and the fact that I ran my fastest half marathon back in November, my weight is creeping back up. Ironically, to provide myself solace over the fact I’m giving up my hard won gains, I’ve been known to grab a handful of Goldfish. Now that the holidays are behind me, all my excuses should be too.

So, after months of neglect, another post is in the books. Let the spamming begin…

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 18

I fully support Colin Kaepernick’s right to be a complete asshole.

During the Olympics, I heard an interview with John Carlos, one of the two athletes who raised their hand in a gesture interpreted as a black power salute when he won a medal at the games. Whether you support him or revile him or something in between, you must that his actions were effective – his notoriety has far outlived what it would have had he simply brought home his bronze medal.

The Black Lives Matter movement isn’t completely off base – I know first hand that there are racist cops out there. Still, I can’t support a group of people who paint their adversaries with such a wide brush while ignoring their own bad apples.

Part of my job responsibilities include listening to radio transmissions from a state prison. It’s almost like hearing them move cattle instead of prisoners. I know that I’m a writer and should be able to use my words to describe how this makes me feel, it’s such a strange thing to hear, I just can’t.

Life is not white, nor is it black. It is, in fact, despite anything I might have believed growing up, one-hundred percent gray. That’s been no more apparent than in my forties.

Ignore for a moment trying to determine how I know this, but crime does not happen the way it’s shown on television. It’s much more complicated than that.

Bad circumstances cause people to do bad things. It doesn’t always mean the people are bad.

Occasionally, my wife will wake me up in the middle of the night and say there’s something funny going on in the house. After years of whispering a reply to her, I now speak nearly as loud as I can in reply? Why? Because criminals don’t want to tangle with you any more than you want to mess with them. On the very remote chance they are in your house, let them know you’re coming so they can leave the way they came.

Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 17

School starts tomorrow. This makes me happy – my brood have had way too much time on their hands.

Some technologically-forward school districts have forms you can fill out online and submit. Our school district isn’t one of them. Fortunately, my clan is now old enough they can fill out their own. Their handwriting is much better than mine.

In the whole debate about whether cursive should or shouldn’t be taught in schools, I fall firmly in the ‘shouldn’t’ camp. It’s a complete and utter waste of time. This time would be better used gluing your fingers together – at least that is what I did when they tried to teach it to me in second grade. For the record, yes, my handwriting is all print and it completely sucks.

My father made me take Personal Typing when I was in high school – I thought that was a complete and utter waste of time. Twentysome years later, I’ve only had two jobs that haven’t required some sort of typing – dishwasher and bus boy. I haven’t done either of those in twenty five years. I guess I need to admit he was right.

Yes, I did use algebra today. In fact, I used calculus as well. I will neither confirm nor deny that I found those useless as well when I was young, although I drew fake album covers during that portion of my life instead of slathering on the Elmer’s.

I hated – h a t e d – my junior English teacher. It took me years to discover she was the best teacher I ever had. Any great piece of writing that comes out of this blog is as much her doing as it is mine. I’m very sorry, Mrs. Carmichael, wherever you are.

I get insanely jealous in June when the kids head into summer break, same with snow days. Back to school is a bit of a schadenfreude moment for me.

From the Fan Mail Department:

In my view, if alll site owners and bloggers maade good content as you did, the internet will be much more useful than ever before.(sic)

See, there you have it: C.L. Boss – making the Internet more useful than ever before. I guess my next move is to click on the link about how he can grow my Internet traffic.

Speaking of good blogging on the Internet, this blog would probably be much better if I actually, well, you know, blogged – something other than a list of random thoughts every couple of weeks. I guess we could always ask for suggestions from the audience… if there actually is one.

Time for bed – for the first time in months, it’s actually a school night.