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.