Graduation Wine

Action-packed Saturday: I took  a long bike ride on the tow road (and with the cross country coach, who I ran into on his bike in Johnson Park) and then I drove to Clark with Ian and we bought a used bike because he keeps growing and then I installed some basement window well covers-- I should have done that a long time ago-- and Catherine bought a new coach and chair and then we went to Flounder Brewing for a beer and now we're getting dinner ready and drinking the bottle of wine that the kids and I got many years ago, which was specifically for once Alex graduated and went to college-- and it actually tastes quite good.

Back to School

Total brain fog-- today was some kind of epic Professional Development Day at school (and even though what all the teachers want to do is get set up, figure out lesson plans, talk to people that are teaching the same classes as them, and get ready for the kids . . . but we need to be inspired) so we had two hours of music and dancing and edu-tainer Dr. Adolf Brown, what happened to be at William and Mary at around the same time I was there (but he was obviously making something of himself, attending class and then many levels of graduate school, while I played darts and ping-pong) and though he was a great speaker, his message could have been conveyed in twenty minutes-- basically that the kids are bringing baggage to school and so are the teachers, and we've got to empty our own backpacks and see that the kids are carrying cumbersome weight in their backpacks-- and there was some prop comedy with a mirror and some toilet paper jokes (even though good teachers never have stomach issues-- you get on a schedule and never stary from it . . . one of the reasons I wake up early) and then we had ANOTHER 90 minute meeting after the two hour meeting and then we rounded it out with a department meeting . . . meanwhile, Catherine was moving Alex into his dorm room on Rutgers-Livingston Campus (which is only a mile or two away from our house, so I can certainly do some Rodney Dangerfield back-to-school action) and so I got to check out the finished product once I got out of school, and then we stopped by the high school to see Ian play in the soccer scrimmage (but he had to call for a sub, he's got a pulled stomach muscle-- I told him to rest it) and anyway, I'm definitely feeling old, overwhelmed at school, a kid going to college, another a high school senior . . . but once the students come, everything will sort itself out.

Mafia Redux

If you're looking for a well-written organized crime tale in a different setting than usual (Providence! Like Crimetown!) then check out Don Winslow's new one. City on Fire . . . it's got all the mob tropes-- I'm cataloging them now for my next episode of We Defy Augury . . . but if you're looking for something a little different, try the Italian mobster film Gomorra . . . it's cycles between the quotidian and extreme violence: the ins and outs of illegal toxic waste disposal and trying to make it as a mobbed up tailor and the assassinations and terror that occurred in Italy during the Scampia Feud . . . there's not the romance and drama and fun of Goodfellas and The Godfather, just daily life in the criminal underworld.

Willie Nelson Strikes Again!

My favorite joke of all time-- the Willie Nelson joke-- appeared in one of Adrian McKinty's crime novels, leading to a visit from McKinty himself at SoD . . . now the joke has reared it's ugly (but adorably stoned) head in the new Sedaris memoir, Happy-Go-Lucky . . . which means that Sedaris has to come visit my blog as well.

Double Digits!

I'm proud to announce that I've released TEN episodes of my podcast "We Defy Augury" . . . and I hope I have enough material for many more, as I enjoy making them (although my favorite part-- the weird voice that happens when I explain the purpose of the podcast and the joys of reading and autonomous thinking, over the inspirational music-- is my wife's LEAST favorite part of the show).

Nothing Says Jersey like a Microbrewery in an Industrial Park

Yesterday my wife and I went to the Jersey Cyclone Brewing Company-- which, like Cypress Brewery is located in a weird industrial park-- but unlike Cypress, Cylcone Brewery has a spacious tasting room with tables, booths, and a large bar- the beer is decent, but nothing to write home about . . . as far as local breweries go, I still like Flounder Brewery the best (both for it's excellent and various beers and the pastoral setting).

Some Deets

Yesterday's sentence was vague, Yoda-esque, and boring-- so here's a bit more detail: yesterday, Ian and I took off for Hamilton, New Jersey at 6:50 AM so he could take the SAT at Trenton Catholic because there were no seats available for the test near us; I dropped him off at 7:35 AM and they admitted him into the testing facility; I then when and played pickleball with my brother at Veteran's Park-- which was only a few miles away-- and this was elite pickleball competition, in fact, they wanted me to "try-out" to play with them, but my brother vouched for me-- and then my brother and I beat nearly everyone there so there were no longer concerns about my skill level-- then I went to my brother's place and Amy made me a sandwich and gave me some watermelon- and then I headed over to the school to pick Ian up, and I parked in the lot, got out of the car, and wandered and stretched . . . and I put my tennis shoes and socks on the hood so they could dry out and not stink up the car . . . and there was no sign of the test ending, though it was supposed to be a 3 hour test with one fifteen minute break-- but now we were going on noon and they were supposed to start at eight AM so it should have been over but it went on and on . . . I reparked the car on the road in a shady spot, I got really annoyed with all the people sitting in their cars, idling, making me breathe all kinds of fumes while I wandered around, but they sat on their phones in the AC, burning fossil fuels, and the kids didn't get out until nearly 1 PM and Ian was starving, so we stopped at Wendy's and he got some ridiculous chicken sandwich with fried pickles and honey habanero and bacon and then I went over Stacey's house for Ed's birthday, ate BBQ, played cornhole and lawn darts-- lawn darts made for a very long and boring game to 7-- and I just think the SAT is not equitable, normal, or useful-- there should be some hour long test that every kid takes in school and that should be enough.

Too Long is the SAT

 The SAT is too long.

My Dog is Panting

We are past the "dog days" of summer-- those occur in late July, when the dog star Sirius appears to rise alongside the sun-- but it still feels like the dog days (and I'm ready for some other kind of day, where you need to wear a sweatshirt).

Altercation at the Tennis Court!

My buddy Cob and I went to play tennis this morning at Johnson Park, and the girl's tennis team was practicing-- taking up a few courts-- and then some older ladies were playing doubles on two of the four remaining courts . . . so we walked over to the far court and one of the older ladies ran onto it and said, "we have this court reserved-- some of our friends are coming at 10" and it was ten after nine and so I told her:

1) this is a public park and the courts are first come first serve;

2) you can't "reserve" courts unless you have a park permit . . . like the tennis team;

and she got very sassy with me and said that she was going to stand on the court and play singles with her friend-- even though all these people do is play very bad old people doubles and I dismissed her and told her to stop being absurd and that I was the varsity tennis coach and knew how the courts worked-- and she said, "well you don't know who I am!" and I said, "No I don't, but I'm telling you who I am" and I told her my name and my position with the school and told her this wasn't like a parking space where you could stand in it for fifty-minutes to hold it for some friends (though I doubt the legality of that move as well) and then Cob and I started warming up and the ladies went back to their doubles game, this lady muttering stuff, and it turned out that more people never showed up and the three courts were plenty for them and then she came over and apologized and told me that I was right and she was wrong and that she was a territorial old bitch . . . NOT . . . despite the fact that they didn't need the court and they all stopped playing before Cob and I because it was hot, she did NOT apologize for her juvenile behavior . . . so obnoxious.

Dr. Moreau, What Have You Wrought?

I enjoyed Silvia Moreno-Garcia's The Daughter of Doctor Moreau so much that I went ahead and read the original, the novel her book is based upon-- The Island of Doctor Moreau by H.G. Wells-- and I enjoyed that quite a bit as well; the latter is very much a thriller in the vein of Jurassic Park: there's an island inhabited by monstrosities that have been created by a man playing God with Nature-- but Moreno-Garcia writes a much more subtle love story, putting Moreau's hybrids in the context of the Mexican Caste War . . . both books have in common the theme of freakiness, the emotions a freak of nature evokes, and how freaks will band together and find more of their own and create their own society.

The Only Way to Make it Through a Colonoscopy: TikTok

I survived my colonoscopy today-- and last night's utterly disgusting colonoscopy prep-- and I will NOT be doing this procedure again for a long time . . . though Dr. Plumser wants me to come back in three years because some of the colon viewing was "suboptimal"-- but I had no polyps at all and he just couldn't see inside some fold because of stool residue-- although I don't know how anything was left in there after last night's purge-- yuck-- and the procedure wasn't too bad . . . a lot of lying around I a gown and I got my first IV in my life (I didn't look) and when they give you that anesthesia, wow do you pass out quickly . . . it's pretty bizarre-- but now I'm eating food again and drinking coffee and perhaps I'll eat a full meal tonight, but I think I'll do the mail-in version next time (since I don't have a family history of colon cancer) especially because I was so bored last night, just walking back and forth to the bathroom, downing the gross liquid laxative, that I downloaded TikTok and I can see why that app is so addictive-- if you're sleep deprived and too distracted to read or watch TV, those short videos really pass the time.

Colonoscopy Humor

This sentence is going to be a little hazy because I'm fasting for my colonoscopy tomorrow morning-- but I've gotten lots of advice from people who have been through this (most of it too gross to print) and I went to acupuncture today and she told me a story about anesthesia and Pink Floyd and I told her I was wearing a "Dark Side of the Moon" shirt and she said I should wear that shirt tomorrow for my colonoscopy, as it would be very appropriate. 

Back to Reality . . .

I'm still a little dazed from our beach vacation-- lots of pickleball, tennis, spikeball, eating, drinking, and young male hijinks . . . including poker on the beach in a hole-- so I'll cut the sentence short and let the pictures do the talking.

 

Weather is Everything

Finally, some decent weather . . . high 70s and East winds down in Sea Isle, I finished "Nemesis Games," the fifth book in the Expanse series and this one is very similar to the show, we played tennis and basketball and spikeball and pickleball without sweating profusely, Alex finished Dark Matter so we got to talk through all the silliness of that book and compare it to Primer, Dom and Connell have been staying up late every night, we saw LeCompt, meatballs and pulled pork we're great, kids have been getting along and haven't gotten in too much trouble, lots of jamming in the house, etcetera, all the normal beach vacation stuff but with better weather.

Boys are Gross

We were about to get an early start to Sea Isle City yesterday-- the car fully packed, bikes on the rack, chairs on the roof-- when we noticed that not only had we packed everything and the kitchen sink, but we had also packed a strange pungent odor; after some pit-smelling and other investigation, Alex admitted he had not showered in a day and the stink was coming from him . . . so he ran inside and took a quick shower while we got egg sandwiches, and then the four of us were able to exist in a confined space for the two hour ride.

Dark Matter . . . Read It Quickly

If you're looking for a fun, thrilling, and kind of ridiculous "many worlds" quantum multiverse sci-fi book that explores the road not taken . . . and lots of other roads-- and lots of alternate versions of yourself clogging up these roads and creating all kinds of paradoxical problems, then read Dark Matter by Blake Crouch . . . it's fast-paced for a reason . . . if you think about it too hard, then the premise disintegrates into a quantum cloud.

Preemptive Plumbing

Today, for the first time in my life, I visited a gastroenterologist-- aptly named Dr. Plumser-- and when he asked why I was visiting, I said, "For a preemptive colonoscopy?" and he said he had never heard it phrased that way and he liked that reason-- and then he told me about polyps and percentages and preparations for the big event (which will happen after our week at the beach . . . perhaps I will clean out all the toxins from vacation).

Preemptive Cream

Today, for the first time in my life, I visited the dermatologist and when the doctor-- Dr. Penelope Cohen, a little lady who wore a doctor's gown and red high-heeled shoes-- asked me why I had scheduled an appointment, I told her "my wife told me to" and she said, "that's what most men your age who come here say" and then she prescribed me some cream for a spot on my face that is sun-damaged so it doesn't turn into cancer-- so I'm glad I went.

Hot Peppers, Homer Simpson, and Some Annoying News

My wife's garden has been producing an abundance of hot peppers and we needed to do something with them before they decayed in the crisper, so I cut them, deseeded them, and roasted them on the grill-- it was too hot to do them in the kitchen (honestly, it was too hot to do them on the grill-- it was 95 degrees yesterday) but I did not wear gloves when I cut the peppers and my hands got covered in capsaicin and they burned and burned, though I washed them . . . and I took a bike ride to the pool and swam a few laps but that didn't help either-- in fact, they burned even more-- and it turns out that Homer Simpson was right, as "alcohol . . . the cause of and solution to all of life's problems" would have remedied the pain (and, in not so great news, I also read about a recent study that found that people who drink more than five alcoholic drinks a week have shorter telomeres and thus are aging faster than those that drink less . . . dammit, so much for the "pickling yourself" theory).