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in arrears

A good Thursday to you, internet denizens.  Once again, work has me buried. Night after night I have nothing to write about since my days involve nary a stray thought from the bits and bytes and ohms and amps and watts and picoseconds I’m steeped in for eight hours a day. But, late today, in one of my meeting-free hours, I plopped the headphones over my ears and set about PowerPointing and Outlooking as the Pod slid into a smooth shuffle, easing me from the Band into some Steely Dan.  It was a nice break from the fast-paced chaos for a moment.

Anyway, let’s get this started.

Today when I got home from work, I came into the house through the garage like I normally do.  But, because I’m expecting a couple packages, I poked my head out the front door onto the porch (where the UPS or FedEx guys sometime leave them).  While there was no package, there was a little piece of paper attached to our doorknob.  Now, most of the time, these are advertisements for carpet cleaners or lawn services or pest control or something, but this one looked different.  In fact, it was pretty plain on the outside – having just our house number written by hand on a line.  Intrigued, I tore it off and opened it.  Inside, I read:

Dear Customer:

Your gas and/or electric service has been disconnected because of an unpaid past-due bill or credit deposit.

And, in red:

The Total Amount Due, prior to service being restored, is the Subtotal written below Plus a Reconnect Fee.

Current & Past Due Bill                      $  445.46

My huh got disco-what now?  Four-hundred and how many dollars?  What?!

How can this be? I have my gas bill, like every other bill, on an auto-payment system that drafts money right out of my miles card each month.  I hardly ever notice the bills being paid.  In fact, I know I’ve been getting e-mails each month from the gas company notifying me that my online bill is ready to be viewed (and, I thought, paid).  They must have got the wrong house…

Holding the paper, I went inside to call the number listed – and check our gas.  I flicked on the burner on the stove and it fired right up with a bright blue gas flame.  Confused, I turned it off and simultaneously picked up my cellphone to call the number on the notice and sat down at the computer to log onto my account.  I got to the representative at about the same time my account information loaded on the monitor in front of me.  I relayed the contents of the notice to her as I clicked on “Billing History” online.  I mentioned that, despite the note telling me my gas was off, our stove seemed to be working fine.  And then, the “Billing History” screen loaded.  Here is what I saw:

Yeah, that’s right.  The last time I paid a bill was in July of 2007.  That’s exactly a year to the day.  Holy crap.

As the representative confirms what’s now right in front of me on the screen, I click onto the “Setup Automatic Payments” link.  You currently have no autopayment options configured, the website tells me.  Dang.  Something happened to my autopayment data.  I quickly look at a couple payments prior to July of last year, and verify they were automatically drafted off my credit card (as expected).

I tell the representative what I’m seeing, tell her something must have busted my autopayment options… that I had no idea my bill wasn’t being paid.  Initially, of course, she assumed I was either a deadbeat or could just not afford to pay my bill – and suggested some sort of installment plan which would allow me to get my service reinstated. I tell her that the bill isn’t an issue, and that I’ll go ahead and pay the amount due right then and there online while she’s on the line.  She’s obviously not used to this, but is now amused at my situation.

It strikes me at that point that my gas probably is turned off, and I walk back over to the stove to check something.  I fire up the burner, wait ten seconds, and confirm what I figured: Once the residual gas in the line burns, the flame slowly winks itself out.  I tell the representative, “Yup, our gas is off alright.”

The conversation at this point got pretty hilarious, with me cracking jokes about how I could possibly not realize my bill had gone unpaid for a year – and how I couldn’t even cook Ramen now.  How I was a bad husband and father, and would likely wake tomorrow to find our furniture repossessed to boot.  For her part, the representative was simply amazed that they’d let me go a full year, and said it’s the longest she’d ever seen someone in arrears.  At one point I said, “You know, everyone is going to make fun of me when I tell them this, right?”  She cracked up, and kept reiterating how odd it was that I “got by” for a year without paying.  I echo her sentiment, and keep saying variations of things like, “Man, this is crazy.”

Oh, and, in the end, I had to pay a $25 reconnect fee and they’re gonna hold two times our average billed amount as a “deposit” which, upon one year of me not defaulting on payment again, will be returned to me with interest.  I consider the combination of these fees, which totaled something near $90, to be my “idiot fee” in this case.

Five-hundred or so dollars later, the gas man comes tomorrow to give us back the gift of fire.  And thankfully, they didn’t contact any credit bureaus.  Sheesh.

Goodnight.

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I just waked up!

Hi Tuesday people.

Tonight, a friend asked Sharaun and Keaton and I over for a dinner and swim… and I turned him down.  Now, this isn’t something I’d normally do – we’re a fairly social bunch and we trade dinners at each others’ houses pretty often, usually at least once a week.  But, I was just feeling burned out.  We’ve done something every free minute of every day for the past week or so – and I was just ready for a stay-at-home do-nothing break.  So, I was honest, saying I just wanted a night to “decompress.”  And here I am, decompressing, apparently… listening prog-rock hour on Sirius’ “Vault” channel (which, by the way, is not anywhere near as good as XM’s “deep cuts” station was – so hopefully that gets sorted in the merger).  Ahh… decompressing; feels good.

For about a month now, when Keaton wakes up from her nap or in the morning after a night’s sleep she screams at the top of her lungs from her crib for “Moooommmy!!,” or “Daaaaaaddy!!”  It’s not a demanding cry, it’s actually a really endearing yelp for someone to come free her from the confines of her bed.  I’ve come to look forward to that hollering, it makes me smile the biggest smile and feel all good inside.  When it gets me up from bed, I’ll walk down the hall and knock on her door, to which she’ll reply, “Yes!.”  “Can I come in,” I ask.  “Yes!,” she answers enthusiastically.  I’ve learned to love this little routine.

Alas, it was a love affair cut short.  Yes, I’m afraid that Keaton has finally reached that bedtime milestone that so many parents of kids her age went through long before us: She’s finally mustered enough courage to reliably climb out of her crib when she wants to.  We knew the day would come, but our policy was to put her down in the crib as long as she was both comfortable in it and would tolerate it.  I mean, why invite that added element of mobility?  (And don’t give me any B.F. Skinner type psychology please).  After all, she’s two and a half now, so it had to happen sometime soon.  Honestly, so far I like it.  She doesn’t seem to get up and get herself out randomly when we’d expect her to be sleeping, so for now it’s limited to her actual wake-up times – which is fine.  And, like so many other little milestones, it just proves to me that she’s growing up, and her learning and increased daring-do (which is still pretty minimal) make me proud.

Besides, now, instead of looking forward to her banshee wails each morning, I can instead listen intently for the squeak of her door as she lets herself out and tumbles down the hallway into our room, where she’ll stand there with that half-asleep look on her face, hair a mess, and say, “Good morning Daddy, I just waked up!”

G’night friends.  Until tomorrow, enjoy your day.

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two inches of fresh powder

Yeah, so I did.  Let me have it; it was a busy time at work and our evenings were filled most every night.  I’m gonna say that this week’ll be better, but it’s hard to make promises when things are busy.  I’m actually home alone right now, it’s around 10am on Sunday.  Sharaun and I drove separately to church, as I had to come home early to meet someone.  The weekend was good, if a little flaky on our part: Friday was a low-key evening with friends; we had two separate fêtes Saturday that we were supposed to attend, but ended up only making it to one; and today (Sunday) we were supposed to do lunch with friends… but…

When we got back from church Sunday Sharaun ended up having to call and cancel our lunch date with friends at the last minute because she mismanaged her time and was under too much pressure to get things done for a moms’ group steering team meeting this afternoon (she’s the coordinator).  So, now I’m sitting here feeling like an absolute heel for my complicity in flaking; half embarrassed and ashamed, and half angry at her for putting me in this position.  It’s a crappy situation, you know, feeling like a jerk because she overcommitted.  (And I say that knowing full well some of you are thinking about pots and kettles calling each other names.)

Back in college, I can remember Sharaun staying up all night, alternating between fits of nailbiting crunchtime-efficiency and fits of frustrated tears over her own procrastination.  I don’t think one major project or curriculum-deliverable went by where waiting until the last minute and working in a fevered panic wasn’t her modus operandi.  Even to this day, she still works that way – hunched in front of the monitor into the wee hours on the eve of her moms’ group events.  What’s worse is, when she gets in that panicked last-minute rush, I become a convenient outlet for frustrations.  Suddenly, I’m not helping enough with this or that, or could’ve done something to ease her to-the-wire trials.  I’ve learned to stay clear, let her work, and try and be as helpful as possible.  I figure, if it helps me stay married, I guess it’s just something I have to learn to do.

Seriously though, I don’t mean to dispariage the work she does, I think it’s great – it’s just days like today when I get to look like a shining ass that irk me.  For someone as unorganized as she is, possessing little to nothing of the rigors of planning, she garners tons of accolades for the work she does.  I suppose maybe I just don’t understand.  My Vulcanesque brain may just be too logical to understand the thought processes of the fairer sex, perhaps.  I do love her to death, though; all the little bits too: every sock or pair of jeans on the living room floor, every open jar of peanut butter on the counter, every cabinet left open, every light left on, and every spare set of keys Home Depot charges me for.

Well, I think I’ve covered that event enough, let’s move on.

Sharaun got on to me the other day because the camera’s memory card is full.  Used to be, I’d empty that thing once a week and post pictures online.  As you’ve no doubt noticed, I fallen off that wagon a bit.  If you wanted to stick to a theme here, you could say I’ve flaked on that part of my online responsibility too, I suppose.  Really, though, it was about time I cleared that thing off and went through images to get a new batch into the galleries.  So, that’s just what I did.  And, surprisingly, the whole of both June and July (which even included a trip to Florida and my parents’ Fourth of July visit) generated a measly twenty-three “decent” images.  Maybe we’ll get more now that I emptied the camera.  For now though, you get what I got – so go check out the new additions here.

And, that’s all folks.  Goodnight.

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I ain’t about hard

Hi!  What up?  Shut up.  I don’t care.  Nah, I’m just kidding… what’s going down?  Nothing?  Yeah… me neither.

It’s Monday though, and it was an uncharacteristically Fallish day for California.  Just when it should be one-hundred degrees plus it cools down and even gets chilly at night.  I loved it, although when I woke up and felt the lingering chill of night it made me feel like I’m behind on designing this year’s Halloween props.  Well, more accurately fixing all the props that broke two years ago… which was a couple of the major ones.  I guess the cooler weather makes my brain think Fall, and Fall means it’s time to get working on Halloween.

Each year I build one new prop, and I usually allow myself one “large” purchase along with it.  One year it was a massive fog machine, the kind clubs use.  One year I bought a nice drill to aide in construction, another year a jigsaw.  One year a twenty gallon air compressor.   This year, I’m not sure.  I know I need to rebuild the flying crank ghost, because she literally wound herself to death last year, and I need to make some adjustments to the ceiling dropper too (which, despite never getting a full teaser video, actually came out pretty well in the end).  So, I think I’m gonna start working on those soon.  The crank ghost rebuild could take time, depending on whether or not I choose to do an “industrial strength” one or go with the cheapie I built last time (which looked great, but ultimately only lasted four seasons).  I’m thinking this time I do it right with angle-iron and a heavier-duty motor.

Thinking about it, I don’t think the changes to this year’s props will actually demand that much time… maybe a couple weeks to get things right.  The most difficult part will be fixing the ceiling dropper’s triggering mechanism and audio synchronization issues.  If I figure I can do that with relative ease, then I may actually have enough time to engineer a totally new item.  And, I’ve had an idea in my head now for over a year that I’d love to make happen: A glowing half-corpse/ghost that travels in a large loop in the air around our yard, as if floating along.  I imagine a torso and head, with a ragged end at the midsection and outstretched arms, flying around the yard overhead.  I know, a lofty concept.  But, I’ve sketched it out several times and think it can be done with just one drive motor and two or three clever pulley stanchions.  We’ll see…

Anyway, enough about Halloween, eh?  I just get excited… it’s been my favorite holiday ever since I was a little kid and all.  Let’s move on.

Today at work was busy.  In fact, work’s been getting busier all the time lately – a change from the few months of relative “down” time I had.  My program is sputtering along at half-choke, throttling up towards 100% which should happen sometime in January.  Then it’s balls-out for a good two years again before the cycle begins anew.  Things at the sawmill go like that, where a project lasts about three years or so, and then resets.  I’ve been through five now, some in parallel, obviously, and I feel like I’m getting better every time around.  I guess I’ve made up my mind that I’m gonna stick around this job.  I like it enough, I’m good enough at it, and it pays well… so, why leave?  It all fits nicely into my “why change?” style.  Change is hard y’all, and I ain’t about hard (well, most of the time, anyway).

Before I go, I wanted to tip my bloggers hat to a longtime friend of mine who’s recently started writing online.  I read, with tears poised in puddles just inside my eyelids, glistening in little shivering lumps of surface tension, waiting for one small motion to send them streaming, the first two parts (one here, two here) of her multi-part entry, “I Killed My Parents.”  All the years I’ve known you, Sheila, and I’ve never asked you about your folks.  I’m not that guy, the one who asks, even if you set me up for the question… I’ll likely balk until you’re ready to tell me outright.  I’m glad I finally know the story, thanks for telling me (and everyone else).  Can’t wait to read the rest.  And, oh yeah, we love you.

So, that a sappy enough ending for ya?  Hope so, ’cause I’m outta stuff to write.  I think it’s a respectable entry, no?  Yeah, let’s call it a wrap.

Oh hey wait, look, Megan used Keaton as the subject of a Photoshop tutorial.  That’s an interesting kind of exposure, eh?  And, maybe it’ll get you “we want new pictures!” hounds off my back for a few hours.  (I swear they’re coming, for reals… soon even.)

Goodnight friends.  Until tomorrow.

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a little bit country?

Sunday afternoon and we’re back from a great weekend away.

Up the hills, across the bridge, and down the bumpy road we went.  We sidled up to the river and stayed a couple nights, staving off the heat of the day by playing in frigid waters and moving camp chairs with the shade.  Anyway, we’re back and unpacked and the dirt’s all down the drain with our bathwater.  Sharaun headed out with her friends for a nail appointment, Keaton’s napping, and I’m sitting here watching The Magnificent Seven on this humongous TV we recently got.  And even though it, like most of the things I tend to like watching, isn’t anything near HD (what do you expect for 1960?), it really seems somehow dustier and grittier and gunfightier.

I’m gonna talk a little bit about music, hope that’s OK.

Those of you who know me likely know that I am, in general terms, not a fan of country music.  Then again, those of you who know me a little better may know that I am a fan of some “roots” type country music like bluegrass and the early 19th century country-blues of the American South.  It’s just the “modern” country that I don’t like.  And, before you country people get all on my case – I’m not even talking about the whole “crossover country” thing that’s been going down now for ten or fifteen years; I’m talking about “traditional modern” country (I know, it’s an oxymoron, but it’s what I mean).  Anyway, I’ve always known that a lot of older “roots” country represents a large black hole in what I know about the evolution of music – I’ve just never tried to dive-in and figure it all out.  But, that changed a while back.

Sharaun and I were invited over to dinner with friends, and while we were there they were playing the “classic” country channel on Sirius.  Now, I’d always known I have some sort of affinity for rootsy, early-sounding “hillbilly folk” or “honky tonk” type stuff, as evidenced by the immediate shine I took to albums like John Prine’s self-titled debut and nearly everything Gram Parsons and the Flying Burrito Brothers did during the roots-country rennaisance of the late 60s and early 70s.  But, that night nearly every single track that beamed down from the satellite radio seemed like a gem.  The rough nature of the tunes reminded me of the same reasons I adore things like Robert Johnson’s scant recorded history, or things like John Fahey’s Blind Joe Death: in them you can hear the embryonic sounds of decades of music yet to come.  After enjoying the soundtrack to our evening so much that night, I decided I’d spend some time questing for a good “classic country” primer.

The problem is, to make a decent and somewhat complete introduction to the birth of country music is not an easy task.  At first I began looking for some sort of compilation, maybe Rhino Records has done something, maybe some budget-bin put-togethers that managed to put a bunch of old songs together on disc when their copyrights lapsed or something.  Turns out, though, that the history of country music is a huuuuge beast, with twists and turns and reels and reels of music.  I tried reading threads on hardcore country music message boards for tips on good catch-all comps, I browsed through Usenet groups looking for homemade lists of essential classic country, I searched the internet far and wide – and couldn’t find much.

At first, I had decided to try and make my own collection.  I would download the best-ofs from luminaries like Cash, Lefty, Hank, Willie, Mel, Autry, etc. and just cobble together my own thing.  And, that’s how I started, just grabbing (and by “grabbing” I mean exchanging cash-money for) all sort of stuff.

I didn’t get far, however, when I happened upon a description of a twenty-CD collection called The History of Country and Western. This enormous compilation spans the years from 1927 to 1951, and was put together by a German label (go figure).  After looking over the tracklist, I decided this was the holy grail compilation I’d been looking for.  Sure, there’d still be stuff stretching into the early to mid 60s I’d need (to complete my strange “bookmark” years of when I figure the music was “pure” and not the twangy lost-love crap it turned into), but this thing would give my collection a huge jumpstart.

And boy, I was right.  This is an excellent compilation.  I mean, there’s nary a bum groove on this thing.  OK so it’s nowhere near something everyone’s gonna get into, but it’s one awesome historical document of the birth of a genre.  I sat spellbound listening to them on my first run-through, which was unfortunately brief (I plan on hitting the thing hard tomorrow at work), each track a little piece of music revelation previously unknown to me.  Seriously, I recommend it to anyone.  The best part about it is that it’s dirt-freakin’ cheap.  Amazon carries it if you want to get one for yourself.  Again, it’s got the nod of my hat.

So… somehow, I’ve gotten into country (please don’t misquote me on that, and no Sugarland albums for Christmas please, I will throw up).  Makes me happy, really, because I know there are so many more rocks out there unturned – so much good music I’ve still yet to hear.  I mean, what’s next?  Reggea?  Disco?  Standards?  No, no, and no, most likely… but still, I love hearing new stuff.

Anyway, I’m about done now… that thing kinda took off and spawned more paragraphs than I figured it would.  So, I’m gonna go enjoy the rest of my Sunday evening, maybe throw together some leftover Smores ingredients with a bowl of vanilla ice cream or something… who knows.

Goodnight y’all.

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a pleasant turnaround

Friday.

There’s been a pleasant turnaround in our small household.  Keaton hasn’t thrown up all day, and I’ve been able to sit on the couch more than the toilet.  Seems that perhaps we’ve reached the calm after the (happily breif) storm, and might have just licked those nasty creatures invading our entrails.  This is good, because it means we’re still in for the camping trip this weekend.  So, that means that tomorrow we’ll steam off into the hills as soon as I give a must-do presentation at work.  I’ll phone it in, from the very same couch I’m sitting on now, more than likely.

And, before said steaming-off into said hills, I’ll need to get stuff together.  The plan is to leave as soon as possible after the single morning meeting I couldn’t get out of, hopefully sometime around 10am.  Campsites at our regular spot are extremely limited, and there’s no reservation system (it’s primitive camping, first-come, first-served), so we always worry that the place’ll be full when we get down there.  With only five spots up for grabs, and just three of those alongside the river, it’s a must that we secure “good ones.”  So, tonight, in just a scant few minutes, in fact, I’ll be pulling the car out of the garage, doing a loop in the street and backing it right back in to load it with all our gear.

And, fast-forward to nearly 11pm.  Packing is done, and Sharaun’s putting the finishing touches on what food we’ll need to bring out in the kitchen.  I’m online typing these last few sentences and trying, futilely, to upload the presentation I have to give tomorrow morning.  Something wrong with the server at work I guess, I keep getting a timeout.  Owell, I’ll try again early before I have to speak.

For now though, I bid you a goodnight.  Love you, see you Monday.

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a lovely day spent horiztonal

Thursday.  Remember yesterday when I said I felt off and hoped I wasn’t getting the stomach bug that’s been floating around inside the bellies of our friends?  Well, I’m sick.  Keaton’s sick.  Sharaun, so far, is well.

Today I alternated between sleeping, in some half-dead approximation of myself, and running to the bathroom at the not-so-subtle behest of my knotted and writhing insides.  Furthermore, this tortuous cycle was interrupted several times to join Sharaun in the bathroom to rub little Keaton’s back and tell her it’d be “OK” as she “spit out” (what she calls it).  Having not been in this situation before, she was of course terrorized by what was happening to her physically, and only wanted to be held – which, as you might imagine, impacted our ability to “aim” her where we wished.  Ah… yes, a lovely day spent horizontal.

Sharaun took care of us both, bathing Keaton twice after each “spitting out” instance, and herself once (for the same reason); cooking me some buttered toast for lunch and later some chicken soup for dinner; taking the garbage out to the curb; all the stuff you’d expect a good mom/wife to do when you’re under the weather.  And, with that soup staying in my belly well, and glass after glass of some liquid designed to replenish my electrolytes (whatever that means), I’m feeling on the up enough to sit here and bang the keys.  Which is good, because it’s been a bad week for writing.

Let’s just hope the universe send us the mend before the weekend, as we’re slated to go camping this weekend and I’m bound and determined to get some time with dirty feet.  So send some wellness our way, eh?  If you’ve got it in abundance, throw some in and ship it, OK?

Goodnight.