The Italians are Coming

Got caught behind an enclosed car carrier poking down a narrow city streets. It was a big truck pulling a large, completely covered trailer big enough to hold two maybe three cars.

It was moving so slowly that I could read all the signage:  "FERRARI" in three foot tall italic letters along with the company's horse logo and a tag line; "The Italians are Coming."

Another logo on the rear to make sure that even if one couldn't see the contents of the trailer, one would know for sure that there was a fancy car, probably more than my annual salary being delivered to someone.

The truck's driver gave a right turn signal; reconsidered; then moved slowly  further down the narrow street. Another signal at the next street; and again, the driver moved on. Finally at the third street, he signaled again; pulled the big truck into the left lane and tried to make his turn.

Traffic was blocked in both lanes, he struggled to make his turn. He tried and backed up. Tried again as traffic began to really pack into the street. He finally gave up and roared off with the engine of the big truck voicing the driver's frustration.

I guess some guy's mid-life crisis will be delayed until the driver can arrange a different method of delivery.

Hubby at Lego Store

Hubby posing at the Lego Store

Music

When I was a little kid, I had access to an old reel to reel tape deck. I loved to listen to that thing and when about 10 years old discovered 3 tapes that I fell in love with: Blind Faith (self titled); Beatles - Abby Road (side 2) to be exact; and Rolling Stones - Let It Bleed.

I'd put one of those tapes on, turn out the lights and head to bed with the most magical sounding music floating through my bedroom.

Tonight I had my phone on shuffle and Gimme' Shelter came on. It immediately transported me to my childhood bedroom. It was a great memory, but was dashed by the next song from Singing in the Rain - Make 'em Laugh. Damn shuffle.

Retire?

A co-worker asked if I planned to retire anytime soon since I now have 30 years in here at my place of employment. With 30 years, I’m fully vested in the retirement system and can get my full pension.

I told him that I really don’t know. I planned to work another 4 years, but so many things are beyond my control.

There are the possibilities of layoffs here and I’d retire before being laid off; hopefully with an incentive package to entice me into leaving.

But that also raises the question of whether I’d even want to live in North Carolina after I retire. NC is proposing an anti-gay marriage amendment to its constitution. If it passes, I don’t want to live here. There are a handful of states that have either marriage or domestic partnerships that I’d consider moving to.

As my partner and I get older, we are thinking more and more about the ability to make medical decisions for each other and inheritance rights. We don’t want to get stuck paying twice for the home we’ve bought together. (As an unmarried couple, we have to pay inheritance tax on the portion of the house that the deceased partner paid.)

On the other hand, if we stayed in NC, we don’t have to pay state income tax on our retirement benefits where we would in most other states. Also, our former employer pays our medical insurance if we stay here. They would pay if we move, but we’d face 40% co-pay for treatments, which would get prohibitive very quickly.

Speaking of health care, we have excellent health care here in NC in this region. Duke University and UNC Hospitals are nearby with excellent cancer care. Also Wake Medical Center has excellent cardiac care.

But again, we need to be in a location where we have rights. We’ve read about couples that have medical power of attorney and the hospital not honoring the power of attorney. It’s some crazy things happening in this country toward gay couples. If the amendment passes, it is worded in such a way that we may not have rights even with the Power of Attorney.

When we look at the list of states where we can marry, those tend to have pretty high cost of living. It will be pretty tough to get the pension to stretch far enough for us to live comfortably.

So many things to weigh in making this decision; I just don’t know what to do.

On the face of it, you would think this would be such a simple question, “When do you think you’ll retire?”

Hello, World

“Hello, World!”

That’s the first thing that many programmers output from their first computer program when learning. At least that was the output back when I was in school.

“Hello, World” seems like such a simple thing to say, but it’s important in many ways.

It announces to the world that one is here and ready for the stuff the world throws at us.

So come on world! I’m here! Dish you your best!

Hawk

We saw the red tail hawk today. He’s a small one and the crows were chasing him away from the yard when we saw him.

He was still big enough to do some damage. We don’t want him to hurt one of the smaller birds in the yard or our precious bunny.

I feel really conflicted because the hawk is a beautiful bird.

To reward the crows for their hard work, we put out piles of peanut butter crackers. They love those.

It’s nice to fight nature with nature, but the crows are eating lots of food these days. Also, our mocking birds hate the crows. But for the most part, the wild birds seem to get along pretty well.

Our wild rabbit is living in the yard a couple of doors down from our house. As long as he’s safe and happy, we’ll keep putting out food for him too.

We have a lot of happy animals living around our house.

Rain

Rain drops crash against my window pane mingling with the dust as they tentatively inch toward the sill.

The rain is a welcome sight. For too long, we’ve watched as the grass turns from vibrant green to sickly brown. But today, wilted plants spring back to life as they gulp the life giving water.

Slowly and steadily, the rain falls with little ticks against the pane. Its rhythmic music lulls me to sleep as I curl on the window seat.

Book in hand, my head too heavy for my neck to hold upright. Head falls on to my chest; I start awake to watch this simple miracle of nature.

Gray clouds block the sun as they slide silently through the sky. A wisp of wind blows more droplets against the glass causing the rabbit to perk his ears toward the sound.

Yes, some would be disheartened by the gloomy sky, but today it brings joy to my being. A quiet day at home with a loving family and the rain; what could be better?

A Spring Day

My mind is totally blank as I stare at the computer screen. I’d like to write something for the blog, but I’m at a loss for words right now.

I’d like to say something about how happy I am to be alive on these warm spring days; to say how refreshing it is to wake up to a brisk chill in the air; to say that I enjoy the warmth of the sun streaming in through the back porch as the day progresses.

The sight of azaleas bursting open, full of pink flowers, fills every nook and cranny of the yard. Fragrant blooms attract birds and butterflies as our garden awakens from its long winter nap.

The air is crisp without a hint of the humidity that saps one’s energy in the summertime here in the south.

But my muse hasn’t come to visit me today. Yes, I’m at a loss for words. They just won’t flow from my finger tips into the electronic ether.

Oh, but if that sprite would come, I could entertain and enthrall with witty banter.

But instead, my mind is filled with chirping birds, flitting butterflies and pink blossoms.

They distract me so.

So, please come again another day; a rainy day perhaps. Maybe the rain will drive my muse to my side and push away my distractions.

Refection on MLK Day

Buddy’s dad here.

Monday was a national holiday here in the US honoring the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Let me start by saying that I’m an old guy, a child of the 60’s. I was 10 when Dr. King was murdered. I remember hearing the news broadcasts that he had been shot in Tennessee and the police were looking for a man driving a white Mustang.

It was over 40 years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday.

When I was little, I remember Iris, the first African American student to go to my elementary school. She was a pretty girl who came into my third grade class. I don’t remember any protests or issues at all. She was just there one day. We all played together at recess and ate at the same lunch table in the cafeteria. She was another kid, really no different from me.

The next year, another African American student entered my class and soon the schools were fully integrated. The county made the former black high school the middle school and I went there along with all the other seventh graders. From a kid’s perspective, all seemed to go pretty smoothly.

As a kid, I watched the nightly news with my parents. I saw video footage of riots in the streets in big cities. There were marches on Washington, fires and violent protests in cities that seemed so far away.

But it wasn’t just the African American community that was protesting. College kids were protesting the Vietnam War. There were people protesting at the presidential convention in Chicago. Women were protesting demanding equal rights. It seemed like everybody was upset about something.

There was violence. Every night on the news showed more: film footage of the carnage in Vietnam, footage of various protests, cities with whole blocks burned during riots. It seemed like it would never end and it was scary.

I seem to remember hearing Dr. King’s I have a dream speech broadcast on TV one night. It could have been a film shown in school, but I don’t think so. If you’ve never heard it, I would encourage you to listen to it on the web. It’s amazing.

Even as a little boy, I understood what he said. I heard the truth he spoke. I heard the passion in his voice. His words brought clarity to a frightened little boy that prior to those words didn’t understand why all the adults were fighting.

To say Dr. King was a great man may be the understatement of the century. He was a leader who could express the injustice we felt in our hearts. He could stir passion in his listeners and prompt people to try to right wrongs. He didn’t listen when people told him to be patient; that justice would come in time. He promoted peaceful protest and led people to take charge of their lives and their futures.

He is someone that I wish was here today to lead us. His wisdom could help this country in so many ways now.

Back in 1968, a murderer robbed the people of the United States of one of its most valuable thinkers of the twentieth century. We so need him today.

The Wren

Monday was warm, even fairly early in the day. Sun shown through the bare branches of the few trees that dotted the parking lot of the shopping center that housed Brueggers Bagels in North Raleigh.

We sat at the table beside the big plate glass window in the front of the bagel shop. A little brown wren caught our eyes as he stood on the sidewalk watching the world go by.

He stood there as cars pulled into parking spaces. He stood there as people passed by. He even stood there when a man walked his dog (on a leach) just a couple of feet from him.

His head turned from side to side as taking it all in. He watched the people, the dog and the other birds. He didn’t seem phased by all the hustle around him.

This was his place and his time. The wren would duck under a sidewalk table from time to time to snatch a crumb, but for the most part, he just stood watch.

Most of the people didn’t even notice the wren. They were too busy shopping or talking on cell phones, but the wren saw them. And silently, he stood his ground and watched.

Pooh Balls

Sometimes life gives you cherries. Other times, life gives you lemons.

But what do you do when life gives you little bunny pooh balls?

That’s what I’ve been wondering lately. Buddy Rabbit, who for his first 3 years in our home, has been wonderful. He poohed in one corner of his pen or outside in one spot, but for the last couple of days, he has been going wherever he wants to and it has to stop.

We gave him a lecture yesterday and banished him to his pen early. He poohed all over the pen last night, even on his bedding. He normally doesn’t do that.

Is there a bunny psychologist out there that can offer suggestions? Is he unhappy? Is he trying to tell us he doesn’t like his Christmas gifts? Or is he just getting old and can’t quiet make it to his regular pooh spot?

I’m beginning to relate to getting older. With 2010 fast approaching, I’m feeling my age more and more. Little aches and pains are magnified with each day and drop in the temperature.

My formerly thin body has added four inches to its waistline that for the life of me I just can’t seem get rid of. And every time I pick up a book, I have to grab reading glasses just to read the title.

Why didn’t my high school coach and health-ed teacher warn us about this phase of our lives. No, we had to learn about the evils of smoking pot (which, Coach, isn’t so evil). We had to learn about evils of alcohol (better to teach us moderate drinking, Coach).

Coach should have warned us about achy joints and middle aged spread. Of course, back in high school I never dreamed that "erectile dysfunction" would be a nightly discussion on TV.

But I guess we are lucky in some ways. As animals, humans are one of the few species that can die from old age. Maybe Buddy is just getting old. He’s three and a half which might be old in bunny years. Maybe he just can’t control his bowels the way he used to.

Nah! He’s more likely to be unhappy with his presents.

Exorcising Demons

I’m sure some people think I’m a little crazy after reading yesterday’s blog.

Yes, I do talk to Buddy; in fact I tell him things that I don’t tell anyone else. But since he hasn’t divulged a secret in the last three years, I feel pretty good about talking to him.

I consider Buddy to be my own cute, albeit furry therapist. I just wish he could talk back sometimes.

But yesterday morning when his brown eyes looked at me, the entire blog post popped into my head. Maybe he does communicate in his own way.

I have to admit that I’m feeling guilty about not spending more time at home. What can I say? This work thing is getting in the way.

I promised myself years ago that I would balance my life between work and family but I’m finding that really tough these days. My job is demanding more and more from me; mainly because of these tough economic times.

But back to the balance issue; when I was a kid, my father spent a lot of time working. He had his own business and put in long hours. Also, he went on business trips for four days at a time every two weeks. I didn’t see him much.

At six years old, I didn’t understand the sacrifices a man in the 1960’s made to provide for his family. All I knew was that he was gone a lot. In my mind, I questioned whether he loved us because he wasn't home. Also, when he was home, he wasn’t there for us electing to nap on the sofa in front of the TV, but that is a different issue.

I grew up during a time when TV showed an idealized family. TV families were represented by the likes of June Cleaver who wore the perfect dress while cooking dinner for Ward who walked in precisely on time each evening. It was precocious Beaver who was the screw up in the family. But no matter how big the problem, it was always solved in 30 minutes.

I recognized pretty early my family wasn’t like the Cleaver’s. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not blaming TV for anything. That reference is just there for comparison.

But "Leave it to Beaver" made me want to redirect my life. When I went to college, I considered working for newspapers as a writer. I worked at my local newspaper for two years prior to college and loved the work.

But remembering the Cleaver family steered me toward a job that would allow me to have regular 9-5 hours with weekends off. That original career path wouldn’t have had weekend work or nights on call or odd hours in the office.

That worked well for my first 25 years with this company, but a few years ago the company reorganized and my hours changed a little. At first it was no big deal. A weekend now and then, but I was given time off during the week to compensate. It still allowed for balance; lots of free time for my hubby and our child/pet, Buddy Rabbit.

But then this damned recession hit. A second shift was added but not enough people were hired to cover all the time. Soon that balance between work life and family life went out the window.

Unfortunately, I feel stuck in this job because I’m so close to retirement that I don’t think I can leave. I just didn’t know how bad my lack of balance got until Monday night when I walked in at home and Buddy ran from me.

For a moment, he didn’t know me and it broke my heart. I spent a long time playing with him Monday night and that jogged his memory, but I still knew that somewhere along the line I had turned into my father. I had turned into the man that is away from home. I had turned into the man that didn’t have much time to spend with his child (even if that child is a rabbit).

Yes, Buddy is a therapist in a lot of ways and right now he’s convinced me to re-evaluate my life once again. He told me that I have to regain the balance in my life because family won’t wait for me. Without change, I’ll just be the absent, forgotten man that sleeps in the house with them and that’s not the way I want my family to remember me.

Sunday on a Bike Trail with Moose

Hi and thanks for stopping by. We had a low key weekend.

It rained for most of last week which forced us indoors. Normally, we love to be outside in the fresh air and sunshine. We ride our bikes, walk around a nearby lake, work in our yard and play with our rabbit who doesn't really like the outside as much as we humans do.

It's funny, but we have to force Buddy Rabbit to stay out for an hour a day. He takes that time to use the bathroom and run a bit, but he wants to go back in the house pretty quickly, even if we're outdoors. He spends his time outside thumping his displeasure.

Yesterday, though, I left Buddy inside the house. He likes to snuggle under the computer desk and nap during the day; so he was happy.

In North Carolina during the fall, it seems we get a lot of rain. We get very little during the summer months, so we need the water by September. But I hate rainy fall days. They are gloomier than when it rains during the summer. Also, during the summer rains, there is the possibility that I can be entertained with an occasional bolt of lightening and roll of thunder.

We still get a bit restless though being closed up in the house and after a solid week of rain, cabin fever set in. But the rain finally left by about lunch time on Sunday.

To celebrate, I grabbed a quick sandwich from a nearby shop then headed out to the bike trails.

My favorite bike trail follows a creek through a low lying area. Most of the trail is paved, but dirt accumulates in spots from flooding of the creek. Erosion adds the mud because the trail is much lower than the neighboring subdivisions. My point is that, after a week of rain, the bike trail was very messy; wet, dirty, muddy with spots of standing water. It was perfect for a dirt loving country boy.

The only real issue with riding in such wet conditions is the snakes that normally stay closer to the creek were out on the trails seeking the safety of higher ground. There is nothing like running up on a copper head unexpectedly to put a tinge of fear in me.

With all the water on the trails, the ride was a bit steamy so I ripped my t-shirt off to cool down a bit after riding about six miles. The sun felt good on my back as the mild September air cooled my chest as I continued to ride.

Like I said earlier, the trails were pretty wet, but the knobby tires on my old mountain bike gripped the dirt and in many places, mud; flinging it in wild abandon back on me and the bike frame. I didn't care. I was just so happy to be back on my beloved bike and on these trails I've ridden hundreds of times; I didn't mind looking like a mud monster.

It was a great ride, but I couldn't help to think about the coming months. Months where it will be too cool to ride outdoors. Months where it will be too dark when I get off from work to ride. Months where I'll have to get my exercise in the confines of a gym. But Sunday on the bike trail was a little piece of heaven, even if I did get pretty dirty.