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This is a feeling I'm getting to know well

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The Bike...She Moved

Well, I pushed it across the street, anyway, to our new garage. In our new house.

Yeah, we're moving this weekend. Nobody's more surprised than I am. We woke up, checked the Megamillions numbers and found that we're still not ungawdly rich and decided to go yard-sailing. But first we asked the landlord if we could look at the recently vacated house across the street.

We looked.
We liked.
We called landlord, "hey, when can we move in."
Landlord said "Today, now would be great."
So today we started moving. We're maybe 1/3 done. What the heck, we've got a 3 day weekend. Right?

So the new house has an extra bathroom, space for another car in the garage, a basement, and about 400 extra square feet. And my motorcycle is in it. I feel like I rolled in oil, then in lint, then in wax. (blech)

Later.

The Bike...She Hasn't Moved

Yeah, one of the first things I put in my new garage was the bike. I then followed up with everything else we own. I'm glad it's not on the road, or I'd be majorly p!ssed at myself, 'cuz it's not coming out until we disperse all of the everything between it and the door.

Yeah, we're getting settled in. Slowly but surely things are moving out of the garage and into their spots. The downstairs (living/dining/kitchen/entry) has been squared away for most of a week -- furniture in place, pictures up, kitchen functional. The upstairs is usable and slowly becoming repopulated -- Sunday morning I finally pulled the dresser drawers out of the garage and put them in the dresser. Now I can have skivvies without diving into the dryer. We're slowly getting the smell of cigarettes and foot-funk out of the carpet, too. I've mowed the weeds, erm, yard. I've poisoned the weeds/yard, and inspected the dead snowblower left in our woods. I'm not 100% convinced that I can't make it run -- It may have just had a dead battery or something simple that the previous owner just didn't wanna deal with. I plan to find out.

I've hit a half-dozen bee/hornet/wasp/yellowjacket nests with Bee-ICBM spray, and prob'ly only have a few more to annihilate. I hate the little b@stards, and since the last tenant only showed up every couple of months to feed his dog (!) the bees were allowed to gain a beach-head. I just about want to rip up boards on the porch and deck, and lob a few Bee-Mortars under there to wreak deathly havoc. If it weren't for the whole pollination thing, I'd lobby for congress to pass a law. Or lobby for the township board to pass an ordnance. "No Bees." Simple. Effective. Darn pollination, anyway.

But...I don't have internet at home yet. I did get the computer desk set up yesterday...as well as my drum set . But I'm at work and have to go to a meeting. Later.

Hi-Yah!

I'm all proud of myself, and stuff. I started taking Tae Kwon Do classes with my son last week, and this week I tested and earned my yellow belt. Now I'm the same rank as my son...basically, I watched him in class last session, and helped him practice, and learned alongside him. Now I'm trying to keep up with the rest of the class...there are only three other yellow-belts with me...and none of them are older than 10. Jeez-lord, they don't get tired! At the end of the hour on Monday I was sweating like a pig, having trouble holding my arms up anymore, and I wasn't entirely sure I hadn't fractured my shin in nine places. My son ran out to the car like a gazelle -- a seven-year-old gazelle with a karate outfit and a nonstop mouth.

I thought my son would be excited to be in class with his old man. He's not. He hates it, or at least he says he hates it. He wants to be a rank higher than me. He says he had fun when it was just him in the class, without me. He says that watching me test for a belt was boring. Mind you, last session when we asked how he'd like to be in class with daddy, he was all for it and seemed excited. He's not really in my good graces right now.

Moving right along...

Woke up this morning to find the power was out. Let me amend that...my wife woke me up at two in the morning to say the power was out, then once every twenty minutes or so until I finally got up at five a.m., wandered out in the driveway and verified that our whole street was dark.

I don't understand this. How can my wife wake up when the power goes out? I mean, the sleeping conditions get EVEN MORE optimal when it's darker and quieter than usual. And she wakes up...and wants ME to wake up. Like, what am I supposed to do...something besides "yup, the power's out all right?"

I have to admit, though, that it was pretty funny watching the neighbors who usually leave for work at six or so busting out their door at a quarter to seven and bending their gas pedal in an attempt to get to work on time. They shouldn't have felt bad -- turns out that about half of the town of Buckley lost power. It came back on at about seven. When I dropped off my son at daycare I found out that the school was running on a two hour delay. They asked if I knew. I asked how I would know that when I can't turn on a tv or a radio. Oh, good times...

And that's life in a nutshell. (picture cynical grin and two thumbs up.

Mine does that to me too. Generally not after she's gone to sleep, but if she's awake, and i aint....... its pestersville.


Honey...... what would you do if i was dead? If strange men kidnapped me would you come rescue me. are you awake? are you awake yet? hey will shake shake are you awake?



It is my own pet theory that they think we are going to die sometime in the night, and the only way to combat this sleepdeath, is to aggravate us awake

I'm not a graceful waker either......especially if what wakes me up sounds urgent. I show up ready to fight and lookin for something to kick. WIll! ......whazzat. whooizzit i kill em gimmie my knife......... do you think my hair would look good red?

Hello 20th Century!!

Well, we finally have internet at the house -- they came out Monday and put in the DSL. Granted, I'm typing this at work, causing all sorts of irony to cascade off me...

Had tae kwon do class last night...sore today. The class wasn't as strenuous as last week's...I'll probably feel better before Thursday, unlike the previous two weeks. We sparred a bit at the end of class, and I got beat by a 12-year-old. A big 12-year-old, though...looked at least 14. And a blue belt. I'm a yellow, and a new one at that...so there's yellow - orange - orange w/stripe - green - green w/stripe - blue. Kid kicked me in the neck. In the neck. I'm probably 4 inches taller than him...it's like putting his foot over his shoulder. Gad. I did get two points on him, and was able to block some of his kicks -- pitting my 37-year-old reflexes against his hamster-on-crack 12-year-old reflexes. Gad. I am proud of my two points, though.

Spent the weekend working on swingsets. Saturday the school had a good old-fashioned playground-raising. They bought the equipment, the parents supplied the labor. Sure, I'm a computer nerd in a town of carpenters, landscapers and heavy-equipment operators...I still was able to help. I could read the plans. Then Sunday I put my kids' swingset back together again and they were happy.

Also this weekend, my motorcycle didn't get stolen, so I have to feel good about that. (roscow can pull the knife out from between his ribs when he feels like it. )

Here's to hoping they don't come back for the rest.

*edit. You watch out or i'll sic that 12 year old on ya."

It's Sunday Night...Time for Michigan Outdoors.

Okay, Fred Trost actually did that on Thursday nights, but it's not Thursday right now. I realize that none of this makes sense to anyone else here, except maybe for ofblong, if he ever watched the "Michigan Outdoors" show on PBS when he was young. Half an hour of fishin', huntin' and gear, with a recipe for game like quail thighs or walleye cheeks or something.

What does that have to do with anything? Nothing, I just wanted to start this blog entry with that line.

So we have a start on our yard. This evening we raked out the moss from our front yard, seeded, fertilized and watered. Hopefully it'll start this fall and next spring will just explode with green grassy goodness. Yes, that is what we desire.

Yesterday we drove up to Petoskey -- two hours north of us, and yes, home of the Petoskey Stone -- for a fall festival at a farm. We took a hayride, we painted pumpkins, and we fired the "squash rocket." Instead of the usual squash we used green tomatoes as ammo in what amounts to a giant slingshot. I launched those tomatoes about 150 yards, I'd wager. (150 metres to you metric folks)

The whole day we passed by a lot, a LOT of people touring on motorcycles. I made my wife pretty annoyed by saying, "gee, you just can't tour at less than 90 decibels" every time a couple of loud Harleys farted by. I mean geez, can't anyone leave the stock pipes on their bike? Failing that, if you get custom shotgun pipes, could'ja maybe have the bike tuned up so it actually sounds GOOD? No? You just want to broadcast how rough your bike runs? Swell.

It's like they think: "I don't want my bike to be forgettable, I want the custom Orange Jesse Choppers Arlen James Ness County, Inc. pipes...just like everybody else!" It was actually a pleasant difference when a quiet Harley went by.

I also noticed...none of them were smiling. Of all the people on their $30,000 UltraElectraWideFatGlideBobs with windshields and loud pipes...none of them had a happy expression, it was all "this is serious business I must ride to be free because I'm free to ride and these are serious machines so I must be serious as I control this seriousness with my serious wife behind me. Serious." Blah.

But then, that's just my observation. Put my observation in one hand and poop in the other and see which one you can throw farther. Or something.

noodlenoggin wrote:
But then, that's just my observation. Put my observation in one hand and poop in the other and see which one you can throw farther. Or something.

Man you need a hobby. Have you considered motorsickle ridin?