Red Oaks and Roxy Music

I don't know how we missed it, but wife wife and I are catching up on the nostalgic, funny, and wonderful Amazon show Red Oaks-- it's Caddyshack and The Graduate and Ferris Bueller all rolled up into one delightful '80s comedy-- that's set in New Jersey!-- and the eternally stoned valet Wheeler has got me listening to Roxy Music . . .. and while I love the show, I'm not certain that I love Roxy Music (but like Steely Dan, it might grow on me).

Ian . . . It Is Your Graduation

 


Ian graduated from high school today and the ceremony was lovely-- the speeches were short and sweet, the weather was breezy and temperate, and we had a delicious lunch afterwards with my parents at Wu's Shanghai Dumpling in North Brunswick-- and while the only mishap during the formalities was the fact that Ian tripped on his ascent up the stairs to receive his diploma, my wife suspected this had something to due with his designation as "Class Clown" in the Yearbook-- and she was right, he bet a friend twenty dollars that he would stumble on stage and then he followed through (and got paid) but we also had a minor mishap BEFORE the graduation got underway: Alex drove Ian over to the high school while Catherine and I were getting dressed-- a half-mile drive-- but there was a bunch of graduation traffic and he was trying to squeeze between a truck and a parked car and he hit the parked car's mirror with the van's mirror and broke the other car's mirror-- and he didn't have his license on him and I think there was a bit of conflict between him and the other driver-- but we sorted things out right before the kids walked out in their robes (of course, this guy was sitting right behind us and he was pretty indignant-- with good reason-- but I gave him my information and hopefully it won't cost that much to fix it) and now both my kids have graduated high school . . . but one of them could use another semester of Driver's Ed (and my wife will finally "graduate" tonight from Project Graduation-- she's been working her ass raising money and recruiting volunteers for the all-night event-- once she rides over there and sets things up, she's free at last free at last).


Bedtime Stories

I don't know if this is a common experience, but it happens to me all the time-- when I'm reading in bed, at night, and I start to fall asleep, I'll nod off for a moment or two, but I'll dream that I'm still reading-- and my brain will invent the text-- so I'll still be reading along, but not really, my eyes are actually closed and my mind is making up what comes next in the book-- and then I'll start and wake up and I'll reread whatever I was reading and it will be totally different than what I just "read" in my previous half-conscious state . . . I'm assuming this happens to everyone who reads before bed?

Things I Learn in the Car with My Wife and Kids Episode 74

Apparently the little metal button on the side of my OnePlus 8 model phone turns the phone's ringer on and off (so there's been nothing wrong with my phone or mobile network . . . I've just had the ringer turned off for a couple months or so).

Father's Day Excitement (with a Lady)

I biked over to Castleton Park this morning to play some pickle-ball and when I returned home, I saw a groundhog amble around the bend in my yard and head into the open door of the bike shed-- so I called for Lola, thinking that she'd scare the creature out of the shed but-- because of the other three bikes in their slots-- she couldn't really get in there properly and all I heard was some frightened groundhog squeals from the back corner; I used Ian's phone light but I couldn't see way back in there and Lola was now obsessed with the situation and I didn't want a repeat of what happened with my old dog (Sirius) and a very unlucky groundhog so I had Ian take Lola for a long walk and I left the bike shed door open and vacated the area and now it seems the groundhog has hightailed it out of the shed, because Lola is no interested in the bike shed and has returned to her usual chill lady-like demeanor.

Second for the Second Time

I had another meh performance at the annual Joe Rosenberg cornhole tournament but Alex and his partner (a random old dude who was decent but not good) came in second-- so in the money-- and Alex came in second place last year as well . . . he was on fire today and his team only lost (in close matches) to the randomly drawn dream team of Joe (the host and board maker) and Ryan (a previous champ).

End of the School Year Sporting Potpourri

I finished off a full week of athletics with a stellar performance-- if I don't say so myself-- at 6:30 AM basketball this morning . . . sometimes it pays off to be a minute late, as I ended up on a dream team with all the elements-- youth, athleticism, basketball savvy, and the ability to shoot from outside-- and when you're on a good team, you often get good passes and open shots, which I converted like crazy today-- unusual when I play early in the morning-- it's too bad this is not the end of the line, there's another game Monday morning, where I'm sure I'll return to my usual shooting form (chucking that shit up from anywhere, waiting to get hot, cursing the russet clad early morn) but I can't complain-- starting from last Friday, it was cornhole, pickleball, singles tennis, basketball with college kids, badminton, lifting,  bike ride to Castleton and pickleball last night, and then hoops this morning-- and I'm still upright and walking, an impressive week of screwing around in various arenas- and there's still a cornhole tournament tomorrow and father's day pickleball on Sunday and one last day of early morning basketball on Juneteenth.

Blind to the Way of the Blinds

 


A couple of ladies (Rachel and Sam) were complaining about the state of the window blinds in their room-- a room I happen to share with them for one period-- and I said, "Yeah, my blinds are fucked up the exact same way down in my room!" and one of the ladies remarked that I seemed to be the common denominator in the fucked-up-blinds equation and the other lady asked me if I flattened the blinds before I opened and closed them and I said, "Wha?" and they both said, "You need to turn them flat before you open and close them" and I told them I had never heard that-- but apparently you need to twist the long plastic thing until the blinds are flat, relative to the floor-- as opposed to flat against the window (in maximum light blocking mode, which is the state I keep them in) and I said maybe these blinds needed some step-by-step instructions on the wall because I didn't think the general public was aware of this blind peculiarity and the ladies said that my wife had probably told me about this and I told them that we don't have blinds, we have curtains. 

Birthday Athletics, Plus . . .

I am very sore today, but in a good way: yesterday Alex snuck Ian and me into the Busch gym so we could play some pick-up basketball and we ran into one of my old students from East Brunswick (Armaan) who loves to play (and often plays with my son Alex) and then once we got in the gym, we saw several soccer players and one tennis player from Highland Park (Matt, Amay, and Boyang) and so we played a couple of hours of four-on-four and-- aside from one random-- I had either sired, coached, or taught all the players in the game-- and my team was kicking some butt (Armaan could really shoot and pass) and I was driving the soccer player that was covering me crazy-- he played basketball like a soccer player-- the way I did when I started-- and so succumbed to all the basic moves . . . anyway, we had a blast and then I got up this morning and played 6:30 AM badminton, which I haven't done in a while, and it was as frustrating as it usual is-- that game is difficult and unpredictable and it's really hard to hit a backhand out of the corner-- but I got another good runaround and now I can barely move.

Thoughts on My Son's Eighteenth Birthday

It is my son Ian's eighteenth birthday today-- yikes-- and it's been quite a senior year, but hopefully, he will get his shit together before he has to send his fourth-quarter transcript to Muhlenberg-- my wife said she'd like to "shake him" and I said, "go right ahead, he's not a baby anymore"-- in other news, I was eating a couple of my wife's vegetable and ham egg muffins-- she was trying to use up our egg surplus and so she baked eggs and other good stuff in a muffin tin and made a bunch of them-- and while I kind of like the egg muffins, I don't love their consistency-- they are too foamy-- and I don't like foam . . . I don't like foam on my beer and I certainly don't like cold foam on my coffee-- who the fuck is paying extra for cold foam? would you pay extra for cold foam on a beer?-- and, on a positive note in the age department, yesterday at the Y, my older son (he's 19) and I beat two giant Asian dudes in two-on-two basketball-- they were seniors in college, they were very athletic and could jump and shoot, but they had no clue how to deal with a pick-and-roll and didn't figure out Alex was left-handed until I told them . . . I'm not sure how long I can keep this father/son basketball thing going, but it will be fun while it lasts (and we can't wait until Ian can play with us too-- he's gotten really tall and long, but he keeps busting up his fingers playing volleyball . . . and though my kids are coming back to basketball rather late in life, they're a hell of a lot better than I was when I was nineteen-- when I was nineteen, I played basketball like a rugby player).

Hippies vs. Billionaire!

 


My new episode of We Defy Augury focuses on my favorite book of the year-- the eco-thriller Birnam Wood by Eleanor Catton-- and I'm also proud to announce my favorite title of any episode: "Eclectic New Zealand Acid Trap."

AI Can Cook

I highly recommend asking Chat GPT for cooking advice-- it spits out a clear recipe without all the ads and anecdotes-- and I also highly recommend asking for your recipe "hip-hop" style . . . you'll get lines like this: "Carefully remove the foil packet from the grill, treating it like a valuable vinyl record, and let it cool slightly before opening."

Long Saturday

One busy day after another . . . I can't wait for the dog days of summer-- yesterday we drove up and back to Muhlenberg for Ian's pre-registration and counseling-- this place is the exact opposite of Rutgers-- they really spell out exactly how everything is done and insist that your kid will be advised and counseled and will get through this experience-- it's really nice but kind of weird, after watching Alex learn how to navigate the many campuses, buses, gyms, cafeterias and bureaucratic snafus of Rutgers . . . it almost feels like this is our first kid going away to college-- because he's actually going away (a little over an hour) and not living up the road-- Catherine and I are also excited to explore the Allentown region-- you can walk to the city from the campus and there's a big Amish farmer's market along the way-- so long day up there-- lots of various sessions for parents and kids-- and then we went to a block party when we got home . . . this Sunday needs to be a day of rest.

Long Full Day

6:30 AM basketball this morning, followed by an empty exam period (which was lucky for me because I forgot a change of clothing) followed by a long and arduous Public Speaking exam (it takes more energy to listen to a speech than to make one) followed by some errands with Stacey, followed by the end-of-the-year party and cornhole tournament (Krystin and I made it to the semi-finals but the tournament has gotten very competitive . . . no more pushover teams-- every game was insane and Kim Pzeszski kicked my butt even though I was putting in eight or ten a round) followed a well earned Friday crash.

Long Half Day


The high school students had a half day today because of the air quality-- our school is not fully air-conditioned and it was fairly hazy inside the building yesterday-- but the teachers were required to stay until contract time . . . they had a short meeting at 1:35 PM to insure that we didn't bolt with the kids-- and then when I walked out to my car to leave (and while it wasn't quite contract time, it was in the ballpark) my car would not turn over, nor were the electric locks working, and so I assumed it was the battery and Stacey and I tried to jump it, but had no success-- so then I had to call roadside assistance and while there was a high volume of calls, once I got through, the guy got there fairly quickly, and he was able to jump the battery with his supercharged portable battery jumper-- but he said I needed a new battery so I drove straight to my mechanic and dropped the van off there and then walked home through the haze-- and since it was a long half-day, I decided I deserved a treat so I stopped at the coffee place and got a cold brew ($5.86 for a cold brew? yikes) and while it was expensive, it was very delicious-- but what a weird couple of days here in Jersey-- I guess this is what it's like when you live in L.A.-- and I can't wait for some typical hot humid rainy weather; also, my students taught me about the "point five" feature on my phone camera-- which allows you to take a wider picture--but it's "point five" on their Apple phones, but on my Oneplus 8-- much to my students' amusement-- it's "point six".

And It Was All Yellow


Canadian wildfires and the yellow haze they produced made for a strange penultimate day of class (and the final "A" day) but despite the glowing hazy apocalypse, we managed to finish ACT V of Hamlet and watch everyone die (except Horatio, of course, because he's a good friend) and then I realized that I forgot to vote for mayor yesterday (because of the haze . . . I blame the haze!) and I really hope this shit clears out tomorrow-- I was supposed to play tennis today but we canned that idea and Friday is the end of the year party (and cornhole tournament) but it won't be much fun in this fug.

AI vs. the English Office . . .

The EBHS end-of-they-year party is fast approaching and Kristyn and I have to defend our hard-won cornhole tournament title . . . the bag-tossing competition is fierce but the competition for clever team names is lame-- people usually go with cliche monikers like "The Cornholios"-- but I wanted our team to have a more creative and unique title . . . so I asked Bard AI for some cornhole team names and, sadly, I got a bunch of bullshit . . . stuff like this:

--Corn on the Cobb

--The Kernels of Truth

--The Maize-ing Masters

--The Cornhole Ninjas

--The Bean Bag Bandits

so I told Bard I needed even funnier names and the AI gave me:

--The Cornhole Whisperers

--The Cornhole Crüe

--The Cornhole Mafia

--The Cornhole Jedi

-- The Cornhole Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

so then I tried to think of some clever names all by myself, but everything that I thought of was filthy and this is a school-sanctioned event and you have to put the team name on a Google Sheet, so I didn't want to incriminate myself . . . I was thinking of genital-themed stuff along the lines of "One Bag, One Hole," because Kristyn takes a lot of shit from the men (making our victory all the more sweet) and also basic and filthy names like "Jam it in the Hole" but then I got the other English teachers working on the project-- Stacey, Terry, Denise, Eric-- and we spent a good 45 minutes brainstorming every possible pun . . . first Stacey and I worked out the actual math for "One Sack, One Hole" and we determined that between the two of us, the proper name should be "One Sack, Fifteen Holes" . . . don't ask how we figured it out . . . and here are some of the other names that surfaced during this session:

--Sack-religious

--Sack-a-jawea

--The Holy Shots

-- Stuff it in the Hole, Shoot it in the Hole, Put it in the Hole, etcetera

--The English Tossers, The Underhanded Tossers

--Lick My Cornhole, The Money Shots, Flaming Ring of Cornhole, Fire in the Cornhole

--Bilbo Baggins

--Sack Up

--The EB Sack Exchange

and in the end, Terry went the Onanistic route and chose "The English Tossers" and I went the very obtuse, very annoying route and chose a name only the history teachers will appreciate: "The Visigoths" . . . the Visigoths are  the barbarians who sacked Rome for three days in 410 AD . . . I think "Three Day Sack" is also a good name, but not as irritating as "The Visigoths" . . . and the English department definitely defeats AI in clever cornhole team naming . . . for now.

I Feel Like a Crippled Waterfowl

Teaching seniors in June is like being a lame-duck President-- you're still the President but you can't enact any new legislation and you don't hold any actual power-- you're just a figurehead.

Sunday Wrap-up

The end of an action-packed anniversary weekend: my wife and I made it out after getting lost in the Sourlands-- we walked over the bridge to Cuzin's-- and, as usual, the drinks and the seafood (and the eggplant tower) were all fantastic (if a bit pricey) and the vibe in that place is nuts-- as opposed to Salt, which is a bit fancier and stodgier, Cuzin's always has people dressed casually who are there to spend some money-- the people next to us at the bar were particularly amazing-- a very Jersey couple . . . who may or may not have been a couple-- they frequently cursed each other out and referred to each other as "an asshole" and they required a TON of attention from the bartender-- the dude started out with a $55 tequila shot, then he needed to charge his phone, then his date needed the bartender to come around and show her the channel where there was a hook to hang her purse, then they had a lot fo questions about every drink and item on the menu-- but the woman-- who was 37 but didn't look it  . . . according to the bartender-- was a particular kind of fit petite peroxide blonde Jersey girl from Manalapan with a fucking priceless "real housewives of New Jersey" accent that made everything she said hysterically funny-- anyway, Cuzin's is a lot of fun if you've got some money to spend-- it's more like a club that serves seafood than a restaurant, especially if you sit at the bar . . . so a good end to our anniversary-- we finished out the night watching the finale of The Diplomat . . . thumbs up on that show, and then this morning I got up early and played basketball with my son before he had to head to work lifeguarding-- and then he dropped me off at the pickle ball courts-- so I played sports for four hours and then came home, did some requisite cleaning of the house, and then took a two hour nap-- and when I awoke, Ian was back from prom weekend and mowing the lawn!-- he actually read my wife's note and did a chore-- pretty sweet-- and now he's sleeping . . . he must have had quite a weekend-- he started out in Wildwood and then ended up in LBI, staying at a rental organized by one of my EB students-- so maybe I'll get some gossip on Monday.

Nothing Says "Happy Anniversary" Like a Blair Witch Incident



Instead of splurging on the recommended silver plate, my wife and I decided to celebrate our 23rd Anniversary by going on a hike with the dog and then getting a fancy pasture-to-table lunch at an upscale distillery/brewery/gastropub (which welcomes dogs) in the fancy upscale rolling hills north of Princeton . . . but it took us longer than expected to make our way to BrickFarm Tavern because we got very fucking lost in the Sourland Mountain Preserve-- we tried to avoid a large group of Indian ladies and took an alternate route which sent us into a counter-intuitive infinite loop of trails in some forgotten corner of the park (once you're on a red or a blue trail-- or, God forbid-- a red/black trail-- then you're pretty much screwed) but a lovely lesbian couple (who were walking the trails "in reverse" to avoid the crowds) got us sorted out and headed back towards civilization-- but this was after a 3 hour, 20,000+ step hike-- Lola was a champ but Catherine and I had sore feet (the Sourlands are very very rocky) but this made the pulled pork and smoked beef sandwiches and the beer and tequila drink (in a Capri sun bag!) taste even better-- BrickFarm Tavern is a bit pricey but highly recommended-- one of the best BBQ sandwiches I've ever eaten and the grounds are lovely (and Lola was very well-behaved because she was so fucking tired) and perhaps we'll make it out tonight for an anniversary dinner . . . we stopped at Hidden Grounds for some powerful coffee on the way home-- it might be enough caffeine to motivate us to go out for an actual anniversary dinner . . . or maybe not.


 
A New Sentence Every Day, Hand Crafted from the Finest Corinthian Leather.