Leaf Blowers Blow

I'm not going to polarize this country even more than it already is-- but I HATE the sound of gas-powered leaf-blowers and I think folks should rake their leaves the old-fashioned way (or at least hire someone-- legal citizen or not-- to rake their leaves the old-fashioned way) but I'm not going to exacerbate matters further and declare that there are only two kinds of leaf rakers-- I'm not looking to be controversial and there is obviously a continuum of styles of leaf-raking and it's not an entrenched two-party leaf-raking system where you can really only reasonably choose between two styles-- but at the two poles of leaf raking are the obsessive raker who starts raking and bagging and doesn't stop until ALL of the leaves are removed from the lawn/yard and while I admire this style of raking, it is not my style-- then there is the irregular and sporadic raker, which is how I do it, the guy who randomly rakes a few leaves and puts them in a bag but doesn't necessarily fill the bag and maybe just leaves the bag in the yard, half full. . . because there's always tomorrow and there will always be more leaves and it's really organizationally difficult to rake ALL the leaves and honestly, if you leave some leaves on your lawn and the wind blows the right direction, they might end up on an obsessive leaf-raker's lawn, and that sort of solves the problem . . . plus fall is all about decay anyway and won't some of these leaves that you do not rake and bag decay and add nutrients to the soil?

Excellent Indian Food on the Eastern Shore

We returned home from the Eastern Shore of Maryland this morning and our house, our dog, and our son were all in one piece-- so a successful trip-- we had a good time with my wife's niece and her husband in Eastport . . . I loved the brewery and the local bars and restaurants so much I'd like to move there (if it wasn't for all the flooding) but maybe I'll settle on moving to Cambridge, a historical Eastern Shore town that seems to sit a little higher above the water (or at least most of the town . . . I am frankly amazed at how close to volatile bodies of water people will build houses and this trait is truly on display in Maryland) and while I was not surprised that the brewery and bakery were both excellent in Cambridge, the biggest surprise was that the restaurant our AirBnB lady recommended, Bombay Social, served some of the best Indian food we've ever eaten (and we live adjacent to Edison, New Jersey!)

Maryland, More Scenic Than You Might Think

A kayak was definitely the best way to explore the Blackwater Wildlife Refuge . . . we saw several bald eagles up close, including one that was adding moss to a gigantic eyrie high in a pine tree and once we were done paddling and hiking therefore, we headed to downtown Cambridge for beers at RaR Brewing and a walk along the piers to the lighthouse . . . who knew Maryland was so scenic?

Cheers . . . with Ghosts

Last night,  after a delicious meal at The Fox's Den, we stopped at the colonial-era Middleton Tavern for a nightcap (and some live music) with the locals-- the vibe of the bar is "Haunted Cheers" and then today we took a boat ride past the Naval Academy and up Spa Creek, past all the yachts and fancy homes, and I was thinking this is a lot of fucking boats, the most boats I've ever seen and then the captain of our little tour boat told us that the harbor and creek were totally empty now and there were no boats at all, compared to October-- so obviously I have no fucking clue what a lot of boats look like.

You Are A Future Fossil (If You're Lucky)

This morning, you might be lamenting the fact that the American people have spoken . . . and they overwhelmingly selected an antediluvian orange wanna-be fascist who dog-whistles to white supremacists; poses a danger to the EPA, the NOAA, the NWS, USDA, and NNSA; trusts Russian intelligence and Vladimir Putin more than the FBI and there CIA; worships tariffs, deportation, and grabbing women by the pussy; paid a porn star hush money; and loves lying about his golf scores, Arnold Palmer's penis, selling commemorative coins of himself, and over-charging foreign emissaries and American officials at his hotels and various properties . . . but it's only for four years-- you might need to hike out to the Calvert Cliffs in Maryland to put it in perspective and remember that we are all just future fossils (if we're lucky enough! if our rotting carcass is washed into a limestone crevasse where it can slowly be covered and replaced with silt as we decay!) and see the exposed layers of the earth from the Miocene (5 to 23 million years ago) and sift for ancient shark's teeth and fossilized shells . . . afterwards we had lunch in the oddly tropical weather (but I can't mention global warming now that Trump is back in power) on Solomons Island, we sat out on the deck at The Island Hideaway and watched the boats-- that place is an odd little nook on the western side of the Eastern Shore-- a well-appointed and well-situated place that must be hopping in the summer-- so much so that many ambitious dockowners have built semi-permanent micro-house boats on their docks so that they can AriBnB them out and make some extra cash-- God Bless America . . . and while I think Trump is a gauche douchebag, I'm still rooting for him to make some good choices, because we're all in this together.

Super Tuesday

Big day: woke up early; voted for Harris instead of Stein . . . because my wife threatened me-- possibly felony? . . . then went to the gym-- and while I can lift weights, my pulled rib muscle still hurts, especially when I sneeze-- and it hasn't rained in 47 days, so I'm sneezing a lot-- terrible coincidence of a particular muscle pull and an oddball fall weather pattern-- is there a word for unserendipitous? . . . then we headed to Havre de Grace (no one can pronounce it) and wandered through the Graw Alley Art Park, which is full of murals illustrating Havre de Grace's history-- including a depiction of a tawdry and bygone local brothel from the early 1900s-- The Red Onion-- excellent stuff, every town should have a large and colorful tribute to a brothel-- then we had a delicious and cheap seafood lunch at the outdoor Promenade Grill; then stopped at a rest stop so Cat could get some coffee but the millennial Asian couple in front of her were taking so long reading the menu that she stormed out; then made our way through some traffic to Annapolis; got slightly lost in the narrow winding roads of Maryland's capitol city, finally unloaded at our AirBnB, then drove to Eastport and found some free parking and drank some delicious beer-- including a prickly pear jalapeno lager-- at Forward Brewing; and now we're heading out on the town-- and maybe we'll try to stay up and see who wins this stupid election.

There's A Little Kicking . . .

A couple of SNL skits that English teachers find very amusing.

 

Just Listen

greasetruck · Just Listen To It

New greasetruck track-- "Just Listen To It"-- to celebrate the extra hour of sleep (but we will have to pay the piper in the spring . . . I still don't understand why we do this to ourselves).

The Hirsute Diet

I groomed myself extensively today (with the help of my wife, of course . . . who else would be game to shave off my asymmetrical pelt of back hair) and once I was done trimming everything: chest, legs, shoulders, beard, etcetera and I  shaved my head, I got on the scale and I think I lost a pound!

Dave Gets Professionally Developed

I took my first dose of creatine this morning, along with my Metamucil, before heading to work for a "Professional Development" day-- ironic quotes intended-- but I shouldn't have been optimizing my body for the drivel that was to come  . . . while we got some work done on our own in the morning, the lengthy afternoon workshop-- the content of which may have been due to last year's absolutely unscandalous "yearbook scandal"-- was titled "Courageous Conversations" and it was the most boring, simplistic, insulting, uncourageous, abstract, evasive, and utterly useless workshop I have ever attended, in my thirty-year teaching career-- and that's saying something-- it was like an episode of The Office-- without the jokes . . . and while I was embarrassed for the presenters, I also didn't really want to participate and bail them out because the content was so bland, obtuse, avoidant, and insipid . . . wow.

Dave Goes "All Out" for Halloween

While I generally do not partake in costume-wearing at work, I didn't want a repeat of this epic failure and so when Liz K. told me to dress as Hamlet for Halloween, I quickly and congenially agreed (aside from the cape she wanted time to wear-- like Edna says: No capes!) and I really went all-out, I purchased a "Get Thee to a Nunnery" t-shirt on Amazon (which is a big deal for me because I generally do not wear t-shirts with words or slogans on them . . . once my yellow "Mosquito Control" t-shirt disintegrated, I was done with that phase of my life) and so I was one of the "main characters" from the novels and plays we teach-- perhaps you can identify some of the others . . . my wife opted for something less educational, but right on the nose for her: "a rock star."

I Guess I'll Ask Joe Rogan . . .

I'm getting older, and I like to play sports, so the question is: should I start ingesting creatine?

No Joy in Dave-ville

This morning, while playing basketball, I took an elbow under the right side of my ribcage (from a "kid" I taught in 1996) and I think I strained or bruised an intercostal muscle-- so it hurts to take a deep breath, it really hurts when I sneeze, and there is no joy in my life because it also hurts when I laugh.

Self-Checkout: Is It SUPPOSED to be Ironic?

Today, I scanned a full cart of groceries through the "self-checkout" register at Stop & Shop, and I only needed help from a human employee four times (twice because when I put down bags, it triggered some kind of shoplifting warning—you have to press a button before you put a bag down, or the scale decides the weight of the bag is some unscanned item—and once more to scan some apples and then a fourth time to scan some grapes).

Dave Survives a Normal Amount of Weekend Events

Four social events in one weekend, which is not my style, especially after. along week of school and parent/teacher conferences . . . too many social interactions and too much stimulus and not enough napping and reading time can sometimes make me cranky-- but I guess keeping busy is good right now (otherwise I might get sucked up in all the election bullshit) and so Friday night, my wife and I attended the Jimi Hendrix/Pink Floyd tribute band show at Pino's . . . the Hendrix cover band was comprised of some locals in their early twenties and they put on a great show-- but they were certainly the opening act, as the Pink Floyd show was absurdly good---- ten of the best musicians in the area squeezed onto the little stage in the back of the liquor store/bar/club, including a chick whose only job was to do the wild operatic back-up vocals during "The Great Gig in the Sky" and several keyboard players to reproduce all the sci-fi sounds and they served up several hours of all flavors of Floyd, songs from Dark Side and Animals and The Wall, and they even played some Pipers at the Gates of Dawn-- at one point a guy turned to me and said, "This shouldn't be free" but these guys do it for the love-- and hopefully the bar gives them a cut because the place was packed . . . then I played in a pickleball tournament down in Trenton (Mercer Bucks) where my partner and I got banged up-- rough draw-- but the competition was fun and the place was hopping and I never got to see young five plus players play-- the open even was wild, those guys get really low-- and there were phenomenal women players as well-- so a good experience-- and then I headed straight to my brother's house from there, for a birthday poker tournament-- and while I lost at pickleball, I got incredible cards at poker-- knocked my brother out-- we had two exciting all-in scenarios-- and ended up chopping the pot even though I was well ahead, so a nice ending to the night, and then I slept over at my brothr's house, drove home in the morning, went to the gym with my wife, then played some more pickleball, and later today we are headed to my parent's with the kids to celebrate Marc's birthday with them, before they head to Florida . . . and then I have to go to work tomorrow?

Coneheads Are Not Funny

Our dog Lola survived her bladder stone surgery and hopefully, this will solve her urinary tract issues, but she's rather despondent now because she has to wear a cone for the next ten days-- she's bumping into doors, she can't see the stairs as she walks down them, and she can't plop her head on your lap when you're watching TV . . . so she's quite annoyed but keeping her chin up-- but like me, she does not find a conehead amusing at all . . . did anyone think the coneheads were funny?

The Horror? The Horror!

 

New episode of We Defy Augury-- "The Horror? The Horror!" . . . this one contains thoughts (loosely) inspired by three Paul Tremblay horror novels: Horror Movie, The Cabin at the End of the World, and A Head Full of Ghosts . . . 

Special Guests include: Joe "the Zombie" Biden, Donald "Apocalypto" Trump, Foghat, Bernard Herrman, John Carpenter, Evil Dead, Hector Berlioz, Joey, Rachel, and Randy Meeks.

THIS Is The Person Responsible For My Child's Education?

It's the second day of parent/teacher conferences and I'm sitting here waiting for some parents to arrive and my room is hot and I'm tired from the conferences last night and teaching all day today and I'm starting to nod off, full from lunch (and a little gassy) and I can't imagine I'm going to impress any of these people-- which is fine, because then maybe they won't come for the next round (and moments after I wrote this sentence, I ripped a loud fart which echoed off my plastic wheelie chair-- just as a dad turned the corner into my room . . . I rolled my plastic wheelie chair around a bit, looking at it like it was the culprit for the fulsome sound).

It's Not Easy Seeing Brown

My nose is dry, my lips are cracked, and this long streak of unseasonably dry, hot weather has made me realize that New Mexico might be a nice place to visit, but I do not want to retire there. 

Life Is Too Short to Look Both Ways When You Cross?

Last week, while I was driving to work, I saw a dead deer on the side of the road and that deer carcass projected the message that life is short, life is transitory and fleeting and ephemeral-- you're here and then you're gone-- so you don't have time to screw around, you don't have time to dawdle-- there's no time to look both ways before you cross the street, you've got to just make your move-- that dead deer symbolized the transitory nature of life . . . but at the same time, IF that deer had looked both ways, if that deer had been a bit more cautious, delayed and looked both ways, if that deer took its time crossing Route 18, then that deer might still be roaming around-- most likely chowing on everyone's hostas-- so the deer simultaneously symbolized the transitory nature of life AND poor choices leading to tragic consequences-- the dead deer symbolized two things at once, both negating each and augmenting each other, the juxtaposition of the symbols overlaying the bloody carcass (the dead deer probably also symbolized something about technology and nature not dovetailing together very well, but life is too short to think about things like this).