A Beautiful Day

Monday was a beautiful Indian Summer day, so at lunchtime I decided to take a hike. I ended up at Tinton Falls. I decided to trek the trails at the feeder of the falls first and work my way back to the falls proper. I pulled into the driveway of the historic Crawford house, an 1800s butcher shop and the entrance to the trails that rap around the stream and rapids. I walked past the slave burial ground that was uncovered several years ago and began to trek into the woods.

The paths are wide and many unique trees line them. I often see deer tracks, but have never seen any deer on the trail. The birds are deafening and the squirrels scurry as the water rushes quickly in a deep ravine. I followed the trail to where the grooming ended and decided to keep going up stream. Someone had placed a bench by the rapids, so I sat there for a few minutes watching the water react to the light.

I decided I needed time at the falls proper trails, so started back to Escape. Getting to the other side of the road and walking down to the falls was such a contrast. I left well groomed trails just 50ft away to pretty much make my own in the brush and tall grasses.

Today's goal was to go farther than I had previously gone. I took the usual route that cuts on an angle slightly away from the stream. Due to the change of season, the tall grass that impeded the trail was starting to brown and die, making it an easier path to travel. I got to the high spot that looks over the hidden pond. The pond was quiet except for the call of a hawk somewhere above.

I knew through the grass to the right, the narrowest part of the stream awaited. I was shocked when I got there to find that the water had subsided enough that I could cross. I had never been to the other side and was excited at the proposition of traveling new ground. There was no real path after I crossed, but knew if I kept going I would pick up a trail. Most animals go to the water and therefore leave some type of trails behind them.

I walked about 200 yards and weaved in and out of that area. I was in exploration mode. There were a lot of small creatures in that area and I could hear them scurrying about as I walked. I never have gotten trail fright. But with expanse palette of colors, textures, sound and smell, I was starting to experience sensory overload. I decided to narrow my field of view to a shorter distance and continue on. I waked for a couple hundred more feet when I saw something that looked like it may have been a dried up part of the riverbed. I moved towards it with the thought of using it as a trail to walk back towards the falls. The idea seemed feasible as I took my first step onto the bed. I looked down it and did a bearing check. Then I realized my foot was sinking. The top of the bed seemed dry, but deeper in the ground, it must still have been wet. I know better than to panic in these situations so I slowly pulled up my right foot, it was not in as deep. I stepped about one foot forward from where I left the indent and slowly pulled my left foot out. It was an amazing ground condition. It was solid when stepped on but slowly sank. It was not quicksand, more likely dry ground on an underground stream or water source.

I was too far in the woods to be playing on potentially dangerous ground. Especially when hiking alone. I decided I had accomplished my goal and needed to head back anyway. This was turning out to be a long lunch time. I headed straight for the crossing of the stream and began to slowly walk back.

One thing I love about the falls trail is the amazing variety of mushrooms. The colors and diversity of them is one of natures most overlooked gifts

I continued on the trail parallel nearly thirty feet from the water, I decided I wanted to get a picture of the stream, so I walked toward the water, I could hear the activity in the dried grass increasing. In the distance I spotted a box turtle and hurried my step.
As I reached the box turtle, I raised my camera and took e a shot.  I was only several inches from the water. Activity about a foot away beckoned my eyes to between me and the trail. It was a green and yellow Garter snake . It lifted it's 35 inches or so of body out of the grass, angled it's head towards me, spun around and slithered quickly away in the camouflage of the dried yellow grass. My heart had stopped, but now I could hear it pounding fast. I have run into five other varieties of snake while hiking and luckily have not been bitten. Garters are non-venomous, but from what I've read, their fang-less mouth still feesl like being hit by a bolt of lightning when their teeth connect with flesh.

The turtle now frightened by my movement, tucked his body into his shell. I had already broken one of my hiking rules by not paying attention while rushing through the grass to the turtle. I was not going to violate another by picking the turtle up and trying to coax him out of his shell. I always tell the kids that it is important that we leave nature the way we found it and not interfere. Our footprints should be the only changes we leave behind. It could be argued that I interfered with the snake and his turtle lunch, but a lesson was learned of rules I need to self enforce.

Walking back up the trail, I heightened my senses. I could hear birds and small creatures rushing through the grass, leaves fell disturbing the air and scratching other leaves as if to coax them into the trip to the ground.

I got to the edge of the trail and looked back in a gesture of goodbye, the 'wind controlled' trees waved in return.

Allhallows Eve.

To me, there is no holiday greater than Halloween. I will argue it with anyone. I know most people like Thanksgiving or Christmas, or Passover, but those holidays are reflections of things you cherish, have, or have done. The gifts if any are for those, or from those, closest to you. It's relatively easy to be thankful for those closest to us and we should be everyday. The problem I have with these holidays is this. You reflect, You remember, You give, You receive, you, you, you.

Halloween is the only religious holiday in which people of all creeds and all races give freely of themselves to others, mostly strangers, with no expectations in return. Wouldn't it be great if everyday we would give a stranger in need something they wanted or needed, just for uttering a three word phrase. It would not even have to be "Trick or Treat.", it could be as simple as, "Please help me.". Sadly though and I see this in myself, as we get older, the world hammers the lesson of getting taken advantage of into our brains. Cynicism becomes the religion of everyday detachment from the simple act of giving.

I'm not saying people don't give to charities or drives during many of the holiday seasons, I'm saying, that it is not enough. There is a big difference in giving to someone directly and paying someone to do it for you.

Happy Halloween

I'm In Love!

One look and my heart was racing. She has great curves and is beautiful to look at. It's probably not what you think. A friend of mine got a Tesla Roadster 2.5 and let me test drive it.  I love this car! This was a serious bucket list item, so scratch one more off.

One of my best friends somehow got this impossible to get car. He's the guy that has it all, great wife, great kids, great house, great toys. If anyone truly deserves the life he has, it is him. He and his wife have taught me so much about people and compassion. He is also the friend mentioned in my Karma post.

Back to the Tesla. It is an all electric sports car. No other car company anywhere has anything that can compare to it. It's probably the most innovative car produced since Ford rolled out the Model A. When I found out my friend had gotten one, I begged him to let me test drive it. He laughed and told me to come over his house. Another of our friends was over, so the three of us went out to the garage. I was handed the keys and told to have at it. Seeing a Tesla, amazing; getting into the Tesla, challenging; once inside a Tesla, WOW! You feel like you are sitting in a high end race car. It has all of the amenities and then some. I quickly put the key into, what I guess could be called, the ignition and turned it. My Ape brain did not hear anything, so I turned it again, nothing. The third time, my friend knocked on the window and said, "Dude, the car was on the first time you turned the key, it's electric.".

Did I feel stupid? Let's just keep going. The steering wheel is much smaller then anything I've ever encountered which helps give the feel of driving a formula1 race car. There is no shifter, just buttons marked 'R', 'D', 'P'. I pushed the button marked 'R' and pulled out of the garage. The car slows down quickly after you take your foot from the gas(Err, electric) pedal. It's like downshifting times two and a half. I then pushed the button marked, 'D'. I stepped on the gas and the car smoothly accelerated. I took my foot off at the end of the driveway and the car slowed to enter the road.  I looked up to see if it was all clear and punched the gas. With no sound coming from an engine and no torque curve or shifting noise, your head messes with you. With these simple driving queues gone, your brain can not determine the speed or acceleration, that is left to your stomach and body. From the time it took my brain to scream, "PUNCH IT!!" until the time my stomach cried, "Look at the speedometer.", the car was already approaching fifty. It didn't seem possible.

  It was eerie and refreshing, hearing only the noise of the road. I decided to turn around, so I pulled into a driveway. Upon exiting, I hit the gas(well not really gas) and again the car was at Forty before I gave it a second thought. I wanted one more crack at the long straight road, so I turned around and punched it again. At the stop sign, I took a left and brought it on some windier roads."What's the hurry?", I thought, I  wanted to test this baby out.

Coming back to the neighborhood, I had the car going about sixty when I realized I was about to pass the road. I took my foot off the gas and made an insane hard turn. I gunned it and the car came around smooth as butter. The wheels never pulled or left the road, it felt like I was going much slower. I read the performance reviews on the car, but cornering at that speed with that much confidence was amazing and probably stupid. The movie line, "Son, your ego is writing checks your body can't cash.", flashed across my brain. I punched the gas and with the acceleration building made it down to the house. I pulled slowly up the driveway and as I reached the spot where I had left my friends, pushed the 'P' button and turned the key.

Getting out of the car was a challenge both emotionally and physically. Once I got out, I thanked my friend and in a fit of adrenalin, described how awesome the car was. They suggested I get in the car for some pictures. I stupidly left my camera in manual mode and did not adjust it for the light. So some of the pictures that they took were dark. As I sat there posing, I decided I needed to do another test drive, so off I went again.

I am not a car person. I've never bought a copy of 'Road and Track' or whatever other car magazines are out there. I've never been to a NASCAR race. When I first saw a pre-production Tesla being put through it's paces almost three years ago while flicking through the channels on TV, I was intrigued. An all electric car, made in America that would be on the road by 2009(Before any foreign competitor). An American car that could get over 200(now over 250) miles per charge. An American car that drove silently, An American car that could out 0-60 a Ferrari, a Porsche a Lamborghini,or a Vette.  This could be an amazing success story.  I followed the progress on the internet.  Now I can say I had the pleasure of driving one.

Tesla is the kind of business we need to encourage and keep from failing in America, not the large corporations.

Artistic Thursday - Color My World.

Perspective One... 2:00p.

Perspective Two... 4:00p.

The effects of light on color.

Would I Date Myself?

I was reading a great blog at 'Chelsea Talks Smack' when I asked the blogs question of myself. 'Would I date me?'. After weighing the argument, I think I probably would. I'm not saying I would not be challenging or that my perspectives aren't 180 degrees off of the main stream. I've just seen the competition and feel pretty good about it. That being said, I'd probably break up with myself shortly afterward and 'just be friends'. That seems to be my pattern.

I've said before that I have a macabre sense of empathy. When I watch a romantic movie, I don't rejoice for the hero who gets the girl, but feel sorry for the nice guy who gets left at the altar so that the hero, can get the girl. In real life, that guy has more in common with me than the lead character. I'm the guy who is Mr. Right Now, not Mr. Right. I don't see it as a self esteem issue, more as a personality flaw.

Being a hopeful romantic, I open the car door, pull out the chair, bring flowers and write poetry. For guys, these are terrible qualities. If you do any of these once for a woman, god forbid you EVER forget to. The first time you miss a door or a chair or don't bring flowers, women become irate and you suck. Women would rather have a guy who never does these things, then one who does them 'most' of the time. They want stability and predictability. On paper, I'm the guy women say they want; in practice, I'm the guy they break up with to find the guy who they said they didn't want. Strangely it works out for them.

The good news for me is that the above is a generalization. I'm sure there is a woman out there who would truly enjoy a guy with these qualities, just from my experience, they are few and far between.

Arguments as to why I wouldn't date me. I am neurotic. Not that you would get that from my blog. I have ever changing neurosis about things that most people would ignore. I am extremely goal focused. Once I am set on a path, I must bring it to it's logical conclusion unless of course a new goal is set in the mean time. Once a conclusion is met, I need another goal to occupy my thoughts or my mind will obsess on what cellphone to buy, all of the latest physics articles, politics or anything else that will eventually become an 'eye bleeding' research project on a moot topic.

I also have high expectations. I always go for the brass ring. I feel eventually, I'll get it. I expect a lot of myself and of others. I would go to the ends of the earth for the right person, but under my terms. Gone are the days of frivolous journeys to the land of broken heartedness. Will I make any changes to myself? Nope! I'm self confident enough to be who I am. I've learned now that changing to be the 'right' person for somebody means that I was the wrong person for them from the start.

Back to the original question. 'Would I date me?'. Yes, I think I'll ask myself out to dinner tonight.

Now, what to wear?

Blame the Vitamins

Lately, I've decided to be more healthy so Friday I started to take vitamins, nothing fancy, just some b's, e's and c's. I very rarely get sick, usually less than once a year. I'm really taking them because I watched a documentary on how good vitamins are for your body and how little nutrition the fruits and vegetables we eat actually have.

So, Friday day I made a pot of BBQ ribs for the kids and me.  That night Lizzy wanted to watch wrestling so it was snackapalooza. Saturday for lunch I made some fried chicken.

When I said I never get sick, I was referring to every type of disease but of the stomach variety. So Saturday night, there was a thunderstorm brewing in my stomach.

To show you a glimpse of my ape brain in action, the first thought that came to my mind is, "Damn vitamins!". It couldn't be the fried chicken, ribs, the large quantity of coffee or countless other junk I ate. No, it must have been the good stuff.

By Sunday day the storm had passed. I took some vitamins again and nothing. I guess even I can't blame the vitamins. Until next time.

A Rose By Any Other Name...

After posting, 'Lizzy's Brain', a few blogs ago, I thought I had something to explain. Whenever the kids do artwork we usually name the pieces, as a group, before they are put on the Frigidaire Museum. It started when Lizzy did a piece we refer to as 'The Scream...Of the Fly.'. Now we just rattle off names and if one sticks, we give it to the particular work. It's actually a lot of fun. Lizzy will, once in a while, sneak a new piece into the gallery without it being named.  That is usually short lived. By short lived I mean until Emily or I expose it. Emily's works get named too. Lizzy named the following, 'Zombie Balloon Ride.' It was one of those Paint-A-Canvas kits that Emily had worked on. I love those things. They are basically a small, cheesy piece of canvas(or sometimes paper) stretched over a frame. The canvas has the lines of the image and the kids just have to paint the colors to it. The first two they attempted as a kid's project turned out pretty well.

Much better than the design your own T-shirt kid's project fiasco in which my floor was painted blue and red with fabric paint. Emily's shirt came out well, Lizzy after having a real nice design done, decided, if the shirt looked good with a little paint, it will look great with a lot of paint. After pulling the paint-glued fabric apart and letting it dry, the shirt didn't need a hanger and stood up by itself. You would think fabric paints would have been designed to dry soft, like me, you would have thunk wrong. They also seemed to dry better to vinyl tile than to fabric. After scrubbing the floor to the point of near damage, I got it clean.

Lizzy's, 'Falling at the Brook.''

The kid's projects overall have been a big success. Lizzy has gotten interested in photography and Emily, well she is a teenager, I just hope she will continue to enjoy the different projects that we plan. I will post more from time to time.

Stop And Smell The Roses

It never ceases to amaze me how a simple smell can conjure up so many memories. I think it is the sand that forms the cement of moments. I remember smells vividly. Today it is the smell of fresh cut grass.
I remember playing town soccer as a child. They would cut the fields on Friday for the games on Saturday morning. My team wasn't the best, but we played hard and had lots of fun.

Several weeks ago when I was in Long Island and looked at the old summer cottage, the first memory that came back to me was of the smell of my grandfather's workshop. It was in the basement, so it had an amazing earthy musty smell. The place was magical and I have been transported back there whenever there is even a hint of that smell detected by my nose.

When I was in eighth grade, I had a teacher that, at our graduation practice, had us stop and inhale through our noses and take in the smell of the moment. Whenever I go to a church that has a shalacky smell, I think back to that day with great detail.

Now I find myself explaining to my children and relearning myself the importance of stopping and "smelling the flowers".

At the Dentist's

Went to the dentist's office yesterday morning. I actually enjoy the visits to the dentist. I didn't used to, but my current dentist is excellent and isn't of the painful variety. I just went for X rays and a cleaning. The whole X ray thing still scares me. The first warning sign is that they put a lead vest on me, not only will the radiation be limited to zapping only my head, but if a gun wielding terrorist decided to attack my dentist's office, I'll be safe. The next red flag is that the dental technician leaves the state before I hear the buzz of pure radiation aimed at my brain. If that's not bad enough, they just don't zap me once, but six times. Even a neuralyzer loses effect after the first couple of shots.

So after the dental assistant makes it back to the room, it's time to get the cleaning done. The dentist pulls out a power washer for an ant-sized deck and the assistant shoves a mini wet-dry vac into the side of my mouth. Though not comfortable, still not painful. After five minutes and ten gallons of high velocity water, it's time to rinse and spit. I gargle sweet blue liquid from a lilliputian size cup and expel it into a miniature sink. What I see next is the part that makes me wonder how good of an idea the visit really is. I never put anything reddish orange into my mouth, but specs of reddish orange liquid always seem to end up at the bottom of the sink. I don't feel any pain, but somewhere in my mouth, I must be bleeding.

My thoughts are interrupted by the dentist looking at my X rays and proclaiming, “Everything looks fine, no work needs to be done.”. That is a huge relief to me. It means that all of the bad work my previous dentists did on my teeth, when I was a kid, has finally been corrected. All except for the tooth a dentist pulled for fear that there was not enough room in my mouth. Running my tongue over the open space, I think that with a big mouth like mine, I should have known, even at nine years old, it was a bad idea.

Creative Thursday - Because I Feel Guilty.

Chasing The Light

I'm in a writing mood and I feel guilty about not doing a "Creative Thursday Post", so I'm doing another post today.  The original picture that was on the top of my blog is now part of this blog, because I am too lazy to put stuff in my online gallery and I want to make sure I have it easily accessible.  I changed the picture because I am slightly(completely) neurotic.  One of my readers asked where the picture was taken and my ape brain thought, "bananas?".  I had one of those moments where I panicked and began wondering where the picture did come from.  I searched through some of my picture archives and could not find it.  I started questioning if I took the picture at all.

Well today, a couple of days after I changed my background picture, I found out where I took the picture in a strange way.  I was looking for a location for the kids and I to go to this weekend and decided to look up Double Trouble Park online.  Low and behold, they had a picture of the same location from a slightly different angle.  So now I know it is of Double Trouble Park and that I need to go to my network archives and find the original so that I can replace the smaller version I have posted here with something of substantial size.  If you had asked me yesterday the odds of finding a picture of the same scene from a slightly different angle, I would have said zero.  Today it became 100%

The picture that replaced it, "Last House On The Right" was taken at Wampum Brook.

Sing, Goddess, of The Rage...

I was talking to a friend when the term “Achilles' heel” came up. I always wondered about that term. I tend to see things differently than most and after reading the myths in my youth always thought that his ankle was his strength, not his weakness. Thetis, his mother, gave Achilles a taste of godhood, but the real gift was leaving him a piece of humanity.

Humanity is not without trial or tribulation, but we have a distinct pattern of existence; we are born, we live and we die. It is a finite expedition. One not without peril or interaction with the environment around us. I never felt the need to extend existence to the infinite. If you lived forever, would you truly enjoy the small moments of happiness? Would the moments of trial take on any sense of urgency? I know from my life that the small moments are the ones that make it up. A smile from a stranger, a kind word or kind action in times of despair, a look of wonderment in my children's eyes.  These things wold be lost in a sea of memories in a time line of forever.

Strangely, I never had a midlife crisis. My logical side sees this as having two possibilities. I have not yet reached midlife or the crisis of midlife is due to someone's outlook or inability to deal with the limited time of their existence. I feel religion feeds on the second. Most religions have a rebirth or a better place to go to when you die. My question about the “Elysiums” that are promised are these. Can there be happiness without sorrow? Can there be eternal bliss or would bliss become the baseline of our feelings? Feeling and emotion are always relative

Yes, I have hijacked Creative Thursday for my thought flow. I haven't been very creative this week anyway and as I sat on my back porch last night trying to write poetry, realized I currently don't' have anyone to write it for. As a shooting star blipped across the horizon, I tried to remember the first one I ever saw, but couldn't. The thought of Achilles and immortality took center stage in my mind. How difficult the small memories would be to obtain, given an infinite amount of them, struck a chord  I began to write. 

We all strive for a taste of godhood, but we all take for granted our humanity, I'm not sure which one is our Achilles' heel.

Something Fishy.

Lightened for detail.

The kids and I went through a phase two years ago. We decided to each buy a Beta as a pet. betas are colorful fish that require very little maintenance. Feed them once every other day and change their water once every couple of weeks and they are generally happy. In the wild, these fish basically live in puddles, so even in a Styrofoam cup these fish can survive.

The average life span of a Beta is approximately four years. That is, as long as they don't live with me. The first three Betas we put in large crystal goblets. The goblets were large enough to accommodate a bottle of wine each. My daughters decided they wanted to put the fish closer together. Generally only male fish are sold and if put in a bowl together will literally kill each other. To resolve this problem, special beta bowls with dividers can hold more than one beta.

The first three Betas were named, based on their coloring. Lizzy's was America because it was Red, light silver and blue. My fish, fireball, because he was bright orange and yellow. Emily's fish (I think the name was Rusty) we'll call Dead. We buy a special little beta tank that will hold all three and prep the water. First section, America as we drop him out of the net, he immediately starts exploring his new home. In the center, we put Fireball, true to his name, he zips to the side that America is on and the two fish are flaring at each other. Now it's time to put Dead into the last section. Dead, just kinda looks around as if he thinks he is in a full parking lot. Fireball catches Dead out of the corner of his eye and darts to challenge him. Well Dead is not very swift, so after a few seconds, he slowly turns and here is the funny part, is so startled by Fireball, he rolls over and poops. He literally has the poop scared out of him. The kids and I are in tears laughing about that fact. Dead struggles to understand that there is a pane of plastic between fireball and him, so is constantly darting to the side of the enclosure. Well, as you would guess, several days later America and Fireball were doing great and ironically enough, Dead lived (or died) up to his current nickname.

The empty section of the beta tank looked silly, so we decided to buy Emily a replacement for Dead. A few months later, not only did Dead II die, but soon after Fireball. Lizzy's fish America, seemed to be holding his own. Of course I could not be kind to the fish in the pet store, so I bought two more replacements. Next, it was America's time to go. I figured, rather then make an endangered species out of the Beta, the kids and I would only buy one more beta. and whatever happened, happened. We decided we had run out of names, so we simply called the new fish, Fishy. It wasn't long before Fishy was the sole survivor.

Now almost two years later, Fishy is swimming in my home in his crystal vase. He watches people walking in the room and listens to all their conversations. He is very attractive to watch float through the water like a guild navigator floating through spice and I wonder if we are entertaining him more than he is entertaining us.

Last weekend while Emily and I were having him follow our fingers on the top of the vase, he lept out of the water and bit me. Not that it hurt, because he doesn't have any real teeth. He has always attacked his food, but now whenever anything goes into the opening of the vase he leaps at it, so now Fishy is also an attack fish.

Press 9 For Eternal Damnation.

While I was working today, the home phone rang. For some reason and against my better judgment, I answered it. The recorded voice on the other end blurted out, "Press 1 to find out about an exciting new church in your area, press 9 to be removed from our call list.". God has a call list?  Do I dare be removed from it?  I pressed 9.

Those who know me, know I have a beef with(the business structure known as) organized religion. One, no more than the other but for this blog, I will use the catholic church to mean all organized religion. This is because in a country where people will give their lives for it and where our most sacred document puts it first on the list (of our rights), the president`(a constitutional lawyer) and his cronies in Washington say my freedom of speech should be limited from talking poorly about any other religion, but of the christian variety.

My personal feelings about religion are just that, personal feelings. I have read the bible multiple times and though, I have not read the Koran(for fear of accidentally dropping it and pissing somebody off to the point of fanaticism), I think I get the gist of these books. What I don't understand is, if you have a relationship with your higher power, why should a building, group of people or business structure get between you and it?

Back to the computerized church message though. Has a wave of televangelists given way to telemarketing religion. It's bad enough I get spammed by religious friends with chain letters from god. Now I have to interrupt my day to press 1 for salvation.

Turning A Deaf Ear To The World.

I have been deaf in my right ear almost since birth and it still never ceases to amaze me, that when I reveal this fact, people talk louder to me. If someone said they were blind in one eye, people wouldn't make pictures bigger for them The other thing they do that makes me laugh, is to ask if I wear a hearing aid. Um, I'm deaf in one ear, deaf as in a hearing aid would not work.

There are only a few times when I miss the hearing in one ear. The first is in bars or where there is a lot of mid-range background noise. It wreaks havoc on my good ear and no matter how loud a person talks to me I can not discern what they are saying, without reading their lips.

The next time is what I like to call, the shuffle. This happens when someone is walking next to me. I try to casually walk to the right of a person, but some people insist on being to my right, this ends up looking something like a bad tango. Usually I can resolve this by physically moving someone to my left.

When I'm on the phone. I can only hear the phone conversation and nothing else from the world around me. I remember an incident at work when someone was going crazy to get my attention. They were literally ready to kill me until they realized I could only hear what was going on, on the phone.

Lastly is when someone is trying to whisper in my bad ear. It's the whole, "What?", and turning my head that annoys me.

There are some advantages to my situation though. First when I sleep, I can turn a deaf ear to the world by turning my head on the pillow. I also am extremely proficient at reading lips and tend to stare at people's lips when they talk. A hint for the rest of you guys, women think you are really listening to them when you stare at their lips. Lastly If I want to ignore someone, I put them on my deaf side. This works particularly well at dinner parties.

You hear what I'm saying?

Go To Guy Etiquette.

I've been in a self deprecating mood lately (last 40 years) and haven't written anything in angst for a while, so your in for a treat. I'm the the guy people ask advice from. Whether they are buying a digital camera, going to a good place to eat or need to know the best way to hook up their new A/V equipment. I do a tremendous amount of research on the Internet before I purchase an item or even when I am just thinking of purchasing an item. I follow technology and new products and generally keep myself up to date on everything. Thanks to that and my ongoing insomnia, I should reach the end of the. Internet on July 22, 2015.
I really don't mind giving advice when I'm qualified on a subject and if I'm not, I'll usually research a topic until my eyes bleed in the quest for knowledge. Giving advice though can and usually does backfire. For those of you that ask advice, think about these points before talking to your "go to" guy.

Point A
Advice not taken is not cause for bitching about the results you got. If told you should purchase widget a, do not bitch that widget b sucks moose and engage in a conversation about it. "I told you so", should end any such conversation immediately. If you want a shitty product don't ask for recommendation, just buy the cheapest POS you can find and complain to their lack of customer service.

Point B
There is not a sign saying, "Customer Service" above my door. I do not get paid by any company to endorse their products. They pay a meager staff of people in a third world nation pennies a day to do that. I am more than happy to help, just don't have any expectations of me going into the process.

Point C
No, I really am not customer service. If you ask a question of me, make sure you've read the F'n manual and also spent countless hours on the phone with 'Jeff' from Punjubastan interpreting his broken English. I do not know Punjubastanese, so please don't expect me to talk to 'Jeff' for you.

Point D
My house is not a repair shop and no RMA has my address on it. if you drop something off that doesn't work in hopes that I will fix it In my imaginary spare time or that the repair fairy will fix it magically in the night you are sadly mistaken. I know my house is clean, to keep it that way, if you bring a broken item over, It will be thrown out.

Point E
Dinner or an invite that is a thin guise to have me fix your crap or teach you how to use your cell phone, digital camera or brain will henceforth be treated as an act of war, not friendship. Be forthcoming and when/ If I have the time to help you, I will

Point F
I am not a substitute for your manual. If you are lucky enough to have me show you how to do something once, consider yourself more blessed than the pope and F'n pay attention. I won't make the same mistake twice.

I could keep going, but I think people get the point. I don't mind helping people who constantly help others or truly need help. I will no longer help those who are lazier than one eyed sloths or people who don't do their own trouble shooting first. Asking a question will usually get an answer, demanding resolution is abuse. If you can't read a manual, call your local grade school not me.

Win, Lose and Draw!

When it comes to drawing or painting, I am artistically challenged. I can not do any artistic form that requires my hands to create what is in my head. I wish I was an artistic person. Sadly my ape brain thinks it's extremely artistic, but every time it tries to unleash art on the world, my hands turn into a 2 year old with a drug problem. I was even an excessive doodler at one point, but after people would see my work, the conversation would ensue.

“Reed, what did you draw?”

“It's a cow in a pasture.”

“Where's the cow.”

“Right there in the center of the page, it has brown spots and hay in it's mouth.”

“Uh, OK, Where's the pasture?”

I even bought some art 'How To' books. The only thing creative that came out of them, was the way I disposed of them.

I don't know what causes my brain, hand disconnect. I always feel like there is a great finger rebellion. Every time I want my hands to do something artistic, they give me the finger.

I used to think it was my nervous system just screwing with me. The brain would say, “Tell the hands to gently press on the tube of paint and put it on the palette.”. My nervous system would say, “Sure thing brain, your the boss.“. A moment later my nervous system would scream at my hands, “SQUEEZE!!!!”.

Luckily my children do not have the problem. Actually, no one else in my family does. Among other things, my grandmother was an established painter.

Someday, maybe I'll get my brain, my nervous system and my hands to articulate gray matter to canvas but for now I write.

Lizzy's Brain, Compliments of Lizzy

Getting Back On Track.

I was going to bore everyone with my account of going to Lake Takanassee today and the water fowl that I encountered, but after writing it and reading it back, something inside me didn't feel right. I read some of my recent posts and saw that a piece of me was missing from them. The writing had become routine and barring the Artistic Thursday posts, rather foreign to me.

I don't have the whole hang up of keeping things private, I never did. I also don't have the narcissistic need for people to accept me or think I am a great guy. I am who I am. That may be why relationships always end up working against me. People expect people to change. I generally don't. I am a giver and every relationship I've had ended up with me giving up a piece of my soul before I realized I had gone to far and that the other person never went far enough. I'm not saying I can't be a taker, just that I am willing to give to those I care for without resolve which usually ends in expectations that I just no longer wish to deal with.

During some self examination today at the lake, I realized that even after a year of being divorced, I'm not looking for a romantic relationships in my life. I am at peace with myself. Barring fate intervening, I am plan on continuing to enjoy my time to myself, time with family and time with friends. The type of beauty I need in my life right now requires no more than seeing nature in it's majesty or the magic in my children's eyes.

Today I witnessed a heron taking off and flying around until it landed less than thirty feet from me. I'm sure herons take off and land a gazillion times a day, but how many people get to actually see one doing it?  It reminded me of  a cool fall night while I was on a cruise.  I sat on the balcony, fighting sleep, when an enormous shooting star streaked from one end of the sky to the other. I looked at my watch and thought, if tomorrow, I asked all the people on this ship what happened at 11:47p last night, none would have mentioned or even known about the spectacular show of light that I witnessed. People tend to be oblivious to the wondrous spectacles around them. I'm not saying there aren't many other people recognizing the beauty that lies within the confines of their lives. I'm saying that for far too long, I hadn't. My eyes are open now and I don't want to miss a single thing.

Creative Thursday - Seasons Change

A sea of green sways in the waves of the wind.
A red and gold hand reaches out from the wake.
Pulling itself to the surface in the cool static filled air.
Soon a colorful body emerges as the green subsides to the inevitable change of seasons and scenery.
Now it is the green who struggles, falling below the surface.
Awaiting the tide of Spring when it will emerge once more.

Reedisms - Quotes By Yours Truly

After going over some of the current Lizzyisms, I decided it was time to post some of my personal quotes.  These are things I have said on at least one occasion and decided to share.  From time to time I will post my quotes that people have seemed to enjoy.

• Those who are afraid of the past are usually those who have not learned from it.

• Younger women depreciate, older women appreciate.

• The early bird gets the worm but what does the early worm get?

• Let others judge your intelligence and you will find out how intelligent you really aren't.

• Anything that can be bought is not priceless.

The Trip To Memory Island - Final

It was evening and we had one more stop to make before we went to dinner at the Elk's Club. We arrived at Port Jefferson High School. My father had attended the high school and it was just how he remembered it. He went to the doors and as luck would have it, someone was there. I waited in the car for him. The trip thus far had been tiring on my eyes, so I closed them to give them a rest. About 20mins. later he emerged. The students had been practicing for a play and one of the faculty had told him that the Elk's had closed the year before
The whole trip seemed to have been a year late. We missed the old Lane's house by a year, the Stony Brook Museum by a year, the Elk's by a year. It shows how much difference a year can make.


I'm sure there are plenty of boys making childhood memories on the island now. If they came back in sixty years, I wonder how much familiarity they would find.

For now I take solace in knowing my father and I have an island of at least three more days of good memories to look back on.

Creative Thursday - The World Through Your Eyes

The world through your eyes is a wondrous place

It shows upon your shining face

If I could see the magic for just a while

I'd join you in your childish smile

And if the gift of newness was mine to give

You'd see life as a child as long as you live