Crunchy

 

My wife makes her own granola (and now I'm spoiled: it's much more delicious than store-bought).

OG!OG!OG! Hustling From the Inbound Pass!

I went out and had a couple of beers for the first half of the Knicks game last night-- 3 dollar Miller Lights at our local bar!-- then I walked home, morose and pessimistic, at halftime and fell asleep-- the Knicks were down 29 points, so I didn't think they had a chance in hell, and I was exhausted from watching all this late-night basketball-- luckily, my son woke me up when he got home from New Brunswick, and I watched the final minutes with him, his girlfriend, and his buddy Gary-- and when the Knicks completed the largest comeback in NBA playoff history, sealing the game with OG Anunoby's tip-in off a long Brunson three-point attempt, we all screamed so loudly we woke up my wife (and scared the dog) but the real issue here is this: what are we going to call this monumental, life-changing basket? . . . The Perfect Putback? The Hand of OG? The Timely Tip? . . . or just "The Tip" . . . scratch that one, that doesn't sound right . . . but it needs to be called something, I'm sure the internet will figure it out.

Sunday, Day of Running Around?

No rest for the wicked today (or the good, as my wife got a lot of shit done as well) but I went to bed early last night; awoke early; finished Act 4, scene 6, of my Hamlet podcast-- one more scene to go and then Act IV is done, hooray-- then reffed a game in Metuchen; met my wife for lunch at the Metuchen Corner Deli; reffed another game in Metuchen-- which was delayed because of thunder so our third ref took off early to Monroe, where our last game was located, and we finished the second game with just the two of us (and it got a little out of hand; one team was particularly obnoxious) and then Carlo and I drove from Metuchen to Monroe, where our third game had already started, and we took our AR positions, finished that, split the cash, and then I stopped at my mom's place in Monroe and jumped in the pool, and then I drove home and walked the dog and then loaded up my wife's car with the rest of the disassembled bed and dumped that in the park dumpster, and then I finally headed home to shower and eat-- Mexican lasagna-- and I don't even want to get into all the stuff my wife got done today, but maybe we should become Puritans and actually rest on Sunday.

Movies, Making a Comeback?

Today was a weird half-day at school-- it's prom night, but the powers-that-be also thought it would be a great day for the After the Fire presentation-- a documentary and Q&A given by survivors from the Seton Hall dorm room fire-- and while the presentation was moving, prom day might not be the right vibe for it . . . the seniors were pre-occupied and anxious and frantic about prom houses and nails and hair and all that and so cramming them all in the auditorium for two hours didn't work all that well-- and I was outside the auditorium doing bathroom duty for two hours and then I had a random class, so I brought my cornhole board and we played, but the most fun I had was discussing the awesome low-budget indie horror phenomenon Obsession with all the students that saw it-- this felt like the old days, when students actually went to the movies and got obsessed with certain films-- and Obsession is a great one to talk about-- it has a Gremlins meets Fatal Attraction feel and there's plenty to unpack: whose fault is it; why doesn't Bear know the "Aladdin rules" about wishes; why does she cook the cat? is Nikki the cat? is this indicative of Millennials and how they express their feelings?. . . I talked about every scary and funny moment with both the students and my own kids and their friends-- it's really excellent that young people are going back to the movies--and not just movies about folks people already know, like Iron Man-- my wife and I saw Obsession in a crowded college movie theater, and people were laughing and gasping and screaming-- so catch this one in the theater; it's very good, scary, gory, disturbing fun.

Dave Keeps His Mouth Shut and Reaps the Rewards

Over the past few days, I've been killing it with the lies and half-truths-- essentially refraining from saying my actual opinion: on Saturday night, my wife realized she lost her engagement ring and I immediately thought this was because she never zips up her purse-- I'm always zipping it for her . . . she leaves it unzipped ALL THE TIME, and shit is always falling out of it and hanging out of it—but I refrained from saying this and I remained totally positive and optimistic that she would find it-- even though I figured it fell out of where she put it (her sunglass case?) at some random moment and was lost forever-- because she leaves her purse unzipped-- and then, miracle, she found it under her desk at school today and all was well and I did not get in trouble for blaming the loss on her poor zipping habits or being pessimistic; then today, I made a RADICAL move to amend her poor sandwich roll selection-- she bought some smallish, rather stale rolls when she went grocery shopping Sunday but instead of complaining this morning, I made my sandwich on this lousy stale roll and remained stoic and silent, knowing that complaining about these rolls would NOT be a good idea for the health of my marriage-- because grocery shopping sucks-- and then third period— - just before lunch-- when I walked into the English office, there was a loaf of sourdough bread and butter on the table and I took a slice and slathered it with butter and ate it and it was delicious and then I was struck by a bolt of lightning, the lightbulb went off-- and I was alone in the office-- so I hacked two slices of bread off this loaf (consuming most of it) and TRANSFERRED my sandwich from the shitty stale roll to this amazing flavorful chewy sourdough bread, and when people returned to the office, there was a complaint or two that I had sorely depleted the sourdough, but it was worth it because my sandwich was much improved (and I did not provoke my wife's wrath by complaining about her roll selection) and so this just goes to show that sometimes Dave should keep his mouth shut and he will be rewarded by fortune's good favors.

Job Well Done?

This morning, I thanked my wife for cleaning out the fridge-- I get nervous and overwhelmed when there's too much stuff inside it, and I can't see what's what-- but she said, "I didn't clean out the fridge . . . both boys are home and they eat everything."

A Surreal and Mind Boggling Afternoon

My son graduated from Rutgers today —now we have an aerospace engineer in the family —and the last time I attended a Rutgers graduation was in 1995 . . . when my wife graduated.

There Are Rules Here

In the last weeks of school, my wife randomly selects a king/queen for the day in her fifth-grade class-- so every kid gets a turn to be a classroom monarch and as such, they are entitled to certain privileges . . . they get to sit in the teacher chair, they choose a prize from the prize box, they get to be first in line AND they get to make five rules for the day-- and these are the (quite impressive) rules that her first queen created:

1. Everyone had to adopt a food-based nickname (Tasty Taco, Ms. Sushi, Dr. Brownie, etcetera)

2. If you had to throw something out in the garbage, you had to moonwalk to get there;

3. If you left the room, when you re-entered, you received a "silent celebration"

4. If you had to sharpen your pencil, you had to proceed to the sharpener in slow motion . . . I really enjoyed this rule as it is reminiscent of "the lead game"

5. At the end of the day, there would be a paper airplane competition . . .

and my assessment: these are rules to live by, and I will be instituting them in my class (and from this time forward, please refer to me as Mole Poblano).

End of an Era

Friday afternoon, my wife and I hustled over to Clydz in New Brunswick-- the grungy hipster basement martini bar with the excellent happy hour-- for perhaps the last time . . . or the last time in this location; this was the bar we went to after we got engaged (back in 1998) and a place where we have enjoyed many, many martinis and many good times-- I think it's being demolished in a week and then sometime this fall, Clydz will be resurrected in a much more modern venue up the street in the Helix-- but it won't be the same.

Happy Mother's Day!

Eleven years ago, the kids and I made a Mother's Day video called "A Day Without Mom" and then my wife and the kids made a derivative but even more ambitious video entitled "A Day Without Dad"-- so for this Mother's Day, the boys and I recreated the original video . . . it's not quite as cute, now that my children are taller than me (and we did have some filming difficulties, but we weathered the mishap-- the show must go on!-- and reshot the necessary footage).

I Am an Idiot

For Mother's Day, the boys and I are remaking a YouTube video that we filmed a decade ago called "A Day Without Mom"-- it's a hypothetical imagining of how rough our lives would be if Catherine weren't there . . . and while I still have to edit together the new clips, I'm lucky that there are new clips to edit-- when we had one more scene to film, the boys asked me to check the audio, and I realized I had not taken any video of the boys; I had pressed the photo button, not the record button-- so all I had were a few still pictures of each scene-- but the boys gamely redid every scene (once again) and hopefully the finished product will be a nostalgic and cute walk down memory lane for my wife.

Certified Mail Part Two: A Satisfying and Ironic Resolution to a Genuine Cliff (Clavin) Hanger

I went to the post office and picked up the mysterious certified letter sent to me by the State of New Jersey, and it turns out I have NOT inherited millions from a long-lost dead relative-- in fact, it's the reverse: this letter is to inform me that my "spouse/civil union partner/domestic partner has selected the Maximum retirement allowance . . . under this choice, the monthly retirement allowance is payable for the lifetime of the member only"—which means that "in the event of death" of my wife, I will not receive any pension payments . . . we've both chosen to go this route with our pensions so that we can live it up while we are both among the living (and it is also now in my best interest to keep my wife alive: protect her from wild beasts and villains and falling steel girders and encourage her to eat healthy and stay off the meth) and so, of course, this letter is the exact opposite of a long-lost uncle giving me an inheritance . . . instead, it is a message informing me that someone very close to me will be giving me nothing.

Wait Up!

Made a semi-triumphant return to 6:30 AM basketball this morning-- basically the reverse of the Knicks last night-- nailed my first three-point attempt in months but then missed the next three . . . most importantly, my knee and hamstring held up, although I am moving slowly now-- I couldn't keep up with my wife and the dog when we took a walk in the park-- and I certainly couldn't keep up with the old man we saw running in the park, and not only was he running at a brisk clip, into the wind, but he was also holding an umbrella to block the sun-- you don't see that everyday.

Back to Normal

 My wife is home, and the house smells like cooking.

Go Knicks!

My wife returns from Florida tomorrow morning, and then life will regain its usual rhythm-- not that I did anything wild while she was gone, it was mainly business as usual-- but I tried to do a bit of socializing even though my instinct when I am left to my own devices is to hole up and read and get high and strum my guitar: I went to Happy Hour yesterday at B2 Bistro, but I only had one beer (and then a Coke, which Cunningham roundly insulted for drinking) because I had pickleball practice at 7 PM and needed my wits about me (Terry also only had one beer because he was reffing a soccer match at 7 PM but he had a Diet Coke after his beer) and pickleball practice was fun-- my calf is healed and my new paddle seems to be functional (Vatic Pro V-sol Power) but because my friend Ann wasn't there-- her knee hurt-- there was only one other non-Mandarin speaker at practice and so I really did not understand exactly what was happening-- and then this morning I substituted for Catherine and had coffee at her friend Johanna's house (Connell and Adrian were there too, so I wasn't the only guy crashing) and I talked to my neighbor Pernille quite a bit about the state of education and AI (she's a Rutgers professor) and tonight I'm hanging out with Ian and his friend (and possibly Alex) for the Knicks game-- I'm buying sandwiches so that the youngsters will socialize with me-- but I will be very glad when Cat is back in Jersey.

Dave as a Bachelor is No Gourmand

My mom had heart surgery yesterday, and she is already checked out of the hospital-- the miracles of modern medicine . . . and she didn't even need Donald Trump to lay hands on her!-- meanwhile, back at the ranch, I miss my wife-- she went down to Naples with my brother to help my mom out . . . Ian and I have been eating the baked ziti she made before she left, but we're nearly at the end of it, so we got some sandwiches from Park Deli for dinner tonight-- and I did cut up some peppers and lettuce and cucumbers and eat a salad with the ziti last night, to get some roughage-- but it seems that if my wife leaves town, the menu mainly consists of pasta and beer (and takeout) and so I will be glad when she returns.

Summer in April . . .

I took off work today to monitor my mom's progress during surgery-- she's getting a cow valve to replace a valve in her heart?-- and things are looking good-- she's through the surgery and in recovery now, and my brother and my wife are down in Naples, Florida to help her out-- although the recovery is supposed to be very fast . . . and, oddly, it's hotter here in central Jersey than it is in Florida-- I was just soaking my wife's garden so that the spring flowers don't shrivel up and die-- school is going to be very, very hot tomorrow (they had the heat on over the weekend).

Fan Fistfight in My First Game . . .

I refereed my first  soccer match today-- a U-15 game in North Brunswick-- and I was certainly nervous before I left the house-- checking my equipment, reviewing all the rules, making a cheat sheet of various fouls, but my wife said not to worry, that the assignor wouldn't "throw me to the wolves" for my first game, he'd put me with some experienced refs . . . and then I arrived and met one of the other refs and he was technically experienced—but not very-- he had done five games so far-- and then we waited for the third ref to show up, hoping it was someone with more experience than us-- and luckily the third ref, though only 21 years old, was more experienced than us-- he had been reffing for six years-- and then we ran into a hitch checking players and coaches in-- the coach for one team didn't have a game card and the coach and all the players need to have a game card-- but, after some doing, he was able to produce one electronically-- and then the game was fairly slow-paced for the most part, the players weren't that big and it was very windy and the field was kind of bumpy and lousy, so there weren't that many fast-paced attacks or brutal contact-- but with about ten minutes left, something happened in the far corner, so I couldn't see or hear it but I guess a mom claimed that a player grabbed his crotch or something similar, and then parents started chirping at each other and before we knew it, there was a fistfight on the sideline and other altercations were brewing and so the young center ref crossed his arms and ended the game-- and he was really out of sorts and upset-- he said nothing quite like this had ever happened to him before and he'd never had to end the game early-- so it was quite a mess and hopefully not indicative of future games (tomorrow I do a U-9 game, so it should be chillaxed).

If a Toilet Gets Cleaned, But My Wife Doesn't See It-- Did It Happen?

I did a bunch of chores around the house this afternoon: vacuumed, cleaned a bathroom, did some laundry, put the mattress cover and sheets on the bed, did the dishes . . . but accomplishing these tasks doesn't really make me happy-- I won't feel any satisfaction until my wife gets home from my cousin's baby shower and acknowledges my industry.

The Winds are Dark

My wife and I just finished the third season of Dark Winds, the AMC show based on the Tony Hillerman novels, and the show lives up to the title.