Category Archives: Life

You know, life.

Not a Football Post

Art, Life, Music

2010 is starting here with blue sky, crisp blue shadows on the deep, crusty layer of snow. It’s above zero, one degree, but still above and from the backyard trees there’s no wind. A great day for strenuous outdoor activity if you’re properly protected from the cold. For someone other than me that is. It also might be a great day to read a book, by the fireplace, with hot chocolate. Or watch football. What is the average time per American male spent watching football on New Year’s Day? The volume of chips consumed? Gallons of beer? Gallons of beer spilled in celebration or anger? Level of profanity spewed at coaches, refs, players and opponents? I won’t be contributing to those numbers, I may have to turn in my guy card. So be it.

Great party last night, at one of those houses designed by an architect for themselves. Classic Mid-Century Modern, a really nice pad with a big open living room that perfectly served the purpose of musical venue for the evening. Another great feature, obscured now of course, is no lawn mowing. The small front yard is all planted in garden and the back is full of massive hardwoods, so it’s natural forest floor.

We were treated to really excellent music in the form of a jam, lead by the host and some great local musicians. I’m always amazed by the way these folks, without rehearsal, will briefly talk over the structure of a song, “Three chords in A, it starts on the five and the there’s a bridge in D,” and everyone will have it after one verse. Great songs, great singers and great players. I was sweating bullets that I would be asked to sit in, it would be like me trying to step in at point guard for the Wolves. It worked out well though, after almost everyone left, Clay our host and Dan, the guitarist and bass player for Yodel a Go Go, and I did a few basic three chord songs and I was able to pretty much follow along by watching Clay’s hands. Lot’s of fun.

At one point during a break they were playing a CD by some local artist, I missed the name, and Clay said, “When I listen to this and realize how good it is and know that it’s not a big hit, what chance do I have.” This prompted a discussion about how many great musicians there are that are working day jobs, or barely eking out a living playing. It amazes me how hard these folks work for their art, with such little compensation. And these folks seem to be working a labor of love, preserving a style of music that they love, rootsy country and rockabilly. Which is good for me because I love that music too.

Someone once said to me that if I thought art was a tough gig, think about music. True that.

Rush Resolutions Randomness

Life, Sport and Fitness

Since Rush Limbaugh is “resting comfortably” after being rushed to the hospital suffering from chest pains late yesterday, is it OK to make fun of him now? I was tipped off by Rachel Maddow, who tweeted her wishes for a speedy recovery. And then came the inevitable rush of tasteless remarks from those who wish him ill. And then came responses from conservatives who pinned the sentiments of those idiots on all liberals. The circle is unbroken.

But I must say that I had to chuckle over some of the tweets. Like someone suggesting that if surgery were necessary they wouldn’t be able to find a heart, and another who was celebrating the fact that their Rush voodoo doll was working.

And now for the obligatory New Years Resolutions. In the new year I resolve to:

  1. Keep this blog going by posting at least four times a week.
  2. Cut down on the use of the word “I” in this blog by 75%.
  3. Continue to work out regularly and get rid of the sagging pecs.
  4. Get my graphics business going to the point where it makes up the gap between my retirement income and what I used to make.
  5. Expand my cooking repertoire.
  6. Expand my guitar repertoire.
  7. Learn how to spell repertoire.
  8. Do more fun stuff with my wife.
  9. Get out in the woods more.
  10. Get out of the USA at least once.

Caveat: I break resolutions like I break wind, with frequency and fervor, so I refuse to be held to any of these foolish promises.

Finally, on a sports note, the Minnesota Gophers and Iowa State Cyclones are playing in the Insight Bowl today. This is a rivalry that goes back to when the Clone’s Jack Trice, one of college football’s first African American players and the who ISU’s beautiful stadium is named for, died from injuries suffered in a game against the Gophers. Today’s game is a meaningless matchup between two mediocre teams, but I have a minor interest because one daughter is an ISU grad and one is a U of M grad. I owe a small fortune to both. I haven’t been to a Gopher game since OJ Simpson played at Memorial Stadium, but I’ve been to a couple of games at Jack Trice, one where Oklahoma scored something like 70 and I very much admired how the fans seemed to be having a great time even though they were being mauled on the field. And besides, you’ve got to love a team named the Cyclones that have a Cardinal for a mascot. So today I’m going to be a Cyclone fan.

Have a fun and safe New Years Eve everyone!

Process of Elimination

Life, Writing

First of all I a sad story. A classmate of my wife returned home to be with his dying father. On his first night in town the son died in his sleep. The father died later in the day. I wonder how people handle things like that, but I guess we just handle it. The feeling of grief and disorientation in a situation like that is unfathomable. The clock is ticking, we just don’t know what time the alarm is set to.

And now as promised, and I know you have been waiting breathlessly for this next self indulgent spew, I’m going to publicly work through my thinking process as I try to decide just what the hell I’m writing this blog for. I think the first thing I need to establish is what I’m NOT going to write about.

I’m not going to write about family drama. Not that there isn’t plenty to write about. Although I’m only part Scando-German, I grew up in Minnesota, and we don’t even talk about that stuff to each other, let alone broadcast it. Remember the Norwegian farmer who loved his wife so much he almost told her? That’s not a joke, it’s a statement of fact. Same goes with friends, I have enough trouble with relationships, I seem to have a talent for pissing people off. I don’t need to hang those shorts out in public. I might make an exception in the name of self deprecating humor, my social ineptitude makes for some pretty amusing situations.

I’m not going to write about politics. Mostly because I’m just not qualified. I’m kind of a knee-jerk liberal, a liberal by faith and instinct. I’m really not very good at defending my principles. I’m not even sure I have principles. I’ll leave that to others, like these guys. Unless I just get so pissed off at the Republicans or the Tea Baggers or Sarah Palin or Michelle Bachman that I just can’t keep my mouth shut.

And finally I’m NOT going to write about the inner workings of my bowels. In an earlier post I mentioned how dooce has made a fortune writing about her constipation. I have the opposite problem, Crohn’s disease. There is a big difference between writing about constipation and writing about having a bad case of the runs. The latter is about the lack of shit, the other is all about shit. And all though I’ve tried to deal with this shitty situation with humor, and it has provided lots of material for humor, I don’t want to run the risk of over sharing.

So what the hell should I write about?

Humble Pie

Art, Books, Life, Work

Yesterday I started reading Tim O’Brien’s Going After Cacciato (spoiler alert) and also watched Julia and Julie. Let me just say I’ve been humbled. You may be surprised that I haven’t yet read Cacciato, because it really should be required reading for anyone of my generation, at least anyone who professes affinity to Literature with a capital “L.” And you might be amazed that I would be humbled by a Hollywood movie, because those of us who fancy themselves literary, cool, creative and hip, really need to distain Hollywood movies or be exposed as not being any of the former.

I’m not quite sure why I haven’t read much of O’Brien until recently. Quinn, my youngest daughter, who was blessed with an excellent English teacher, read The Things We Carried in High School and she loved it, and recommended it to me. She’s the one that gave me Cacciato for Christmas this year. The book sucked me  in immediately.

Paul Berlin, whose only goal was to live long enough to establish goals worth living for still longer, stood high in the tower by the sea, the night soft all around him, and wondered not for the first time, about the immense powers of his own imagination.

See, humbling. I’ve wondered about my immense powers of imagination. I was virtually an only child, my brother and sister were teenagers when I was born, and I kept myself company with elaborate fantasies. I learned to draw by illustrating the stories in my head. My sister, home from college, suggested that my parents take me to a shrink, because I spent so much time in conversation with my menagerie of imaginary friends, way past the age when imaginary friends are appropriate. I would go to sleep at night telling myself elaborate, juvenile adventure stories. I was an odd duck.

But I never did anything with it. I think I started my first novel at about nine. It was a historical novel, Minnesota was celebrating it’s centennial, the novel was about Henry Sibley. Of course I only got about three pages written when my attention went elsewhere, but not before I enlisted my teacher in the production of some sort of elaborate historical production. She put me in charge. It fizzled instantly when I became bored with it. To this day I have a hard time finishing projects. So I’m humbled not only by O’Brien’s beautifully woven story within a story and his superb writing, but also by the mere fact that he got it done!

Same with Julie Powell and her blog. She got it done. She set this crazy project for herself and got it done, even though she was working full time, doing the cooking and writing about it. Here I am, not employed with way too much time on my hands, trying to get this blog going and half the time I can’t think of anything to write about and when I do come up with something, it seems so stiff and forced to me. I read what I’ve written and ask myself, didn’t I used to be witty and clever? People told me I was. What happened?

Stay tuned. Tomorrow I’m going to try to analyze the situation and see if I can figure out what’s going on and what to do about it.

Confusing Communication

Art, Family, Life

Last night we had a small party to celebrate Quinn’s graduation from the U of M. At the risk of being a parental braggart, one semester early with a double major. I’m very proud of her. She majored in Art and Art History, her concentration in Art was ceramics. Naturally she has compiled quite a collection of pottery over the last few years and she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to do with it. So she put out some of her pieces and we told the guests to help themselves before they left. Part of the collection was made up of simple thrown cylinders that she had done as a technical exercise in one of her early classes. Even though they are more practice pieces than anything else, some are very attractive. She told me that almost everyone that selected a cylinder asked her if they could drink coffee out of them. We decided that they meant that in a chemical sense, not an aesthetic sense. “They’re not mugs, they’re cylinders. When you make a mug you think about the handle and the lip and how the liquid will flow out of it and all those form follows function kind of decisions. So, yes, you can safely drink coffee out of them, just so I don’t have to see you do it.”

Another communication pitfall occurred this morning. I asked my wife if she worked next week. “You mean this week?”

It’s Sunday, right? This is the weekEND, right. So it’s the end of this week. Tomorrow is Monday and the beginning of next week right. Am I wrong on this??

Merry Christmas

Family, Life

Or the felicitations of whatever way you choose to celebrate the Winter Solstice. The family, Lucia, her bf David, Quinn and Rebecca are curled up around the artificial fire, by the artificial Christmas tree watching a Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist, which is not a movie about a wise guy Greek detective, his equally smart ass wife and  their dog Asta, or about my great nephew and niece, who are also Greek, in part.

My daughters have grown up. They aren’t mean to each other anymore, there hasn’t been a single fight. In fact they seem to be goading each other into hysterical laughter most of the time. This is even considering we’ve been pretty much housebound because of the blizzard.

Everyone love there presents, the young folks made a snowman while I wrestled the snowblower through heavy snow. I threw a rib roast in the oven and it’s fragrance is starting to fill the house. I got a subscription to “Cook’s Illustrated” for Christmas and they had a rib roast recipe in the issue they gave me… but I didn’t follow it. It included Yorkshire pudding, which I just didn’t have the ambition to attempt.

Things are good here, hope they are for you too.

Lights on Broadway

Art, Life, Music

smallersanfordposterThis morning I was down at the Plymouth Christian Youth Center in North Minneapolis. Carl Griffin their communications person gave me a tour of the campus and of the Capri Theater, which is owned by the center. The occasion for the tour was my picking up copies of the poster I designed for the upcoming Sanford Moore concert. They’re doing some amazing things on the Corner of Broadway and Logan. They’ve taken a former auto dealership and transformed it  into their offices and PYC Arts & Technology High School, a beautiful building where “at risk” kids are using the combination of art and technology to enhance their learning experience.

Students are learning about DNA by building sculptural representations of the Chromosome strands and studying math as it applies to music. Students are learning technical, as well as interpersonal skills by working as apprentices at the Capri, which they have also recently remodeled. They have multi-purposed the buildings, not only producing their own shows at the theater, but renting it for other musical and theatrical productions. The school building also provides a venue for after school activities and multiple youth programs. It’s a bright and inviting place, alive with natural light and vibrating with activity. I saw lots of happy faces on the kids. All in all it looks like a great environment for learning.

Part of the vision is to “bring up the lights on Broadway” and to “Lead the Capri Theater Renaissance” by making the theater a year around cultural destination that attracts visitors from all over the Twin Cities, showcasing North Side talent and revitalizing the neighborhood. Check out Sanford Moore next month and see the great things going on Broadway!

No refund policy.

Life, Rants

angrybobA month or so ago, I kept getting calls on my cell from a certain unknown number. After several occurrences and no messages I decided to go to dexknows.com and do a reverse number search. By all appearances, that feature was being offered to me by Dex. But I soon found out that I had been forwarded to an Intelius page, which presented the special offer of $.99 for one search. I was a dope and didn’t read the fine print, or for that matter the second level subheads in red reverse. Nonetheless I plodded through and got my information, it was someone trying to sell me windows. They were offering a special deal that was about three times what I figure I could get it done for.

What I didn’t realize was the special deal was contingent on a free trial of Identity Protect. I also didn’t realize that they would automatically continue to bill me $19.95 monthly for this service. I would like to have my identity protected, but the fact that I’m writing this blog and I post on various social networking sites, it obviously isn’t a high priority for me. My concern about fraudulent activity involving my identity doesn’t rise to the level of $19.95 a month, for that price, I’ll take my chances. I have plenty of company in my dopiness, there are discussion boards going on this, well, scam. Continue reading No refund policy. →

Small engine symantics

Life, Rants

I finally got my snowblower started in time to use it on the second significant snow fall of the season. For the first one I was thinking lawnmower instead of snowblower when I primed the carburetor. The lawnmower requires about 30 pumps before it will start, that many pumps on the snowblower will fill the carb with gasoline to the point of it leaking out on the floor. Which is why I missed the first snowfall last year. I thought it was leaking gas and tore it apart in an effort to fix it myself rather than take it in to the friendly local hardware store. I never found anything to fix, but hadn’t gotten it put back together by the time it snowed. The other problem was related to my tenuous understanding of the workings of small engines. And the manual writers tenuous understanding of how to communicate clearly. I knew that when starting the engine you need to choke it. The manual said the choke was supposed to be “on” when starting cold. The choke switch itself doesn’t have an indicator that says “on” or “off” only a graphic consisting of a curve roughly parallel to the arch of the switch, thicker on one end and going down to a point on the other, and a little symbol that apparently represented an open carburetor butterfly. OK, that gives me a vague idea that counterclockwise means “closed” and clockwise means “open.” But does “closed” mean “on” or “off”? Since the knob is the choke control, wouldn’t you think that the thickening of the graphic would mean that you were turning the choke “more on”? I tried to bring back the memories of starting carbureted automobiles (remember them) on subzero days in my youth when I still messed with that kind of thing. Did I use the pencil to hold the butterfly open, or closed. I had a distinct image, in fact I could almost feel how cold I was, leaning over the fender of a ’69 Chevy, trying to fire it up somewhere in South Minneapolis, probably for a trip to the 400 Bar. But I couldn’t bring back the memory of exactly what it was I was trying to do. At a social gathering this weekend, I asked one of my friends who I figured was savvy about this stuff and we got confused as we discussed it, so we asked the two engineers at the table. They were able to straighten us out.

You have to admit that it takes a man who’s very confident in his manhood to admit to such ignorance of small engine repair, something that seems like it comes attached to the Y chromosome. And maybe it does. When I was a kid, I spent all kinds of time in small boats with outboard motors. My dad could spend ten minutes in a pen of 20 cattle and tell you what their average live to dressed yield would be within a half percent, but probably didn’t know the difference between a carburetor and an alternator, so he was not a small engine mentor. But we always owned or rented boats and I always was able to keep them running. I guess it must be a use it or lose it kind of deal.

In case you’re wondering I have the lowest cylinder index of any male I know.

Drama Queen

Rants

I quit my job at Caribou. Yes Caribou. Since I don’t work there anymore, I’m not concerned about problems with identifying which coffee conglomerate I was employed by. I didn’t really like it that much, I’ve written before about how the level of multi-tasking is beyond this old guy. And that I had difficulty remembering where the buttons on the cash register were, that there didn’t seem to be any system to the way they are laid out All that standing was also getting hard on my knees and the rest of my body. The whole experience was stressing me out. I think the next person that tells me how much fun it must be to work in a coffee shop is going to get punched in the nose.
But the decisive moment came Wednesday night. The supervisor on the shift was, like all the shift supervisors, a twenty something woman. I’d worked with her before and come to the conclusion that she was kind of a slave driver, but I had no idea how nasty she could really be. Continue reading Drama Queen →