Me and my simple updates are starting to good and piss me off...

but it's all I've got.

After two good weeks or so of writing pretty consistently, I have had to be back at the school this week in preparation for summer camps. I won't go into any detail here about the nature of the work involved. I will simply say that this gig is a lot of work compressed into a very small period of time. I have been absolutely wiped out every night I have returned home. This is not an entirely bad thing.

In spite of the notable busy-ness of the week, we did have time to run to Marietta and settle on the apartments in which we will live next fall. We will be where I told you we will be, though the decision was complicated by what appeared to be a bait and switch. After walking out of the leasing office in frustration, we signed paperwork thirty minutes later as the "misunderstanding" was "resolved" by the leasing manager "calling corporate." Screw it. We like the apartments, the location, and the rent.

I'm falling asleep at the keyboard. More soon.

Stream of Conch's-ness...

... in the form of bullets, the singular version of which is somewhat close in spelling to "bullshit." Coincidence? I think not...

• Meghan and I have "found" an apartment complex in the E.C. which we think will become home to each of us in late July. Assuming all goes as planned over the next five days or so, you can look for us right here...

... but really, you should call first.

• Summer camps begin one week from tomorrow, which means that the real work begins on Tuesday (even though we've been in the office fairly consistently for the last week-and-a-half).

I recall a particularly interesting spring some eight-or-so years ago, when the Diamond Dawgs were in the post-season. Gunner had just moved in next door, and we were still doing three weeks of Sunday-to-Saturday camp. Several of us got together to watch Georgia vs. Tech on television and enjoy our last hoorah before a month of enslavement to The Man. In the process we got absolutely liver-hardeningly drunk at 3 in the afternoon. Just thinking about it makes me slur my speech.

These days we do that afterwards.

• Last week, I reached the point in the year when I am finishing shows rather than starting them. This is a relief. The time of year during which the arranging gig falls does not make for a very streamlined process. Though I had once hoped to spend a great deal of time writing while doing my travel job, the truth is that that doesn't happen very much. I am able to write a fair amount in the middle of the weeks of summer camp. It would be nice, however, if I could simply sit for two weeks at a time and write each show without having to leave town for a month.

• Barring any clearly obvious signs (severe misspellings or complete inattention to punctuation), do you think you can tell when someone has emailed you drunk? I think I can, and I suspect that is less because of some sort of intuition I have and more because I have done it more than my fair share of times.

• While in Gatlinburg a couple of weeks ago, my Civic endured the hailstorm from hell. I will be putting it in the shop early next week to have the 40+ dings removed at a total cost of about $1400, $1000 of which will come from my pocket. Who's excited?

• I am as politically frustrated right now as I remember. It feels like there is no one with any control who is on my side, and that sucks. Some of that is the $4.00 gas (which you would have to be asleep not to have seen coming). Some of it isn't.

• On the other hand, I myself stuck it to The Man this afternoon when I received three (3) free subscriptions to magazines in return for my pittance of American Airlines miles. Now who's excited!!?

Clarence Darrow posthumously defends Senator Obama, in a quote on my Google home page today: "Even if you do learn to speak correct English, whom are you going to speak it to?"

To Cobb

It was noted some time back that the location of my residence for the next year was undecided. Since then, you may have been among those who have been told that Meghan got a job in Cobb County. And thus, that will be my home for the next year.

When I was growing up in Nashville, I used to hear these vague references from my father about locations where he used to live. Once distinctly vague reference was somewhere on the west side of Nashville.

View Larger Map
I recall that my sister-in-law lived in the neighborhood near the end of her time at Vanderbilt. One day my dad pointed west across I-440, and told me that he used to live in blah blah blah just beyond that bum bum-ba blah blah. He sounded like he had been running from the law.

I don't know that I ever envisioned myself moving quite this much. Between the ages of two and sixteen-years old I had lived in two permanent dwellings that were within one mile of each other. Since sixteen, I have lived in nine (9) other places. That doesn't particularly bother me in the current context, since some sort of ease in the habit of moving appears to be in the not-too-distant future.

While I am not terribly excited about leaving Athens again, I am tickled to be moving to a place that will be near dear friends, still in Georgia, and within three-and-a-half hours of Nashville. The five-hour drive has made getting to Nashville difficult. It is time to jump back on that horse.

Most importantly, Meghan has found a very interesting job in a place that appears to provide a steady but challenging job. She is excited about it and I am too.

So, put your friends in the 30062 and surrounding ZIP codes on notice. We're coming arriving sooner than you think, and one of us doesn't like onions.

The Preposition Candidate

Even if my politics were aligned with those of Senator Obama's, I don't think I could vote for a candidate whose campaign slogan ends with a preposition.



At.

The Event IV

If you haven't already been invited by email or Facebook, or seen Russell's blog, here is the information you and your loved ones will need regarding The Event. Be there or be sober.

My Coat of Arms

Meghan received a wedding invitation the other day. On the top of the invitation, the bride-to-be's family elected to include its family coat-of-arms. Something about that, in light of my knowledge of her life, seemed, um, unusual. I dunno. I usually associate coats-of-arms with duchies and people with Roman numerals after their name. The woman in question is great, but simply doesn't strike me as the type.

So I wondered to myself, "Self, why don't you have a coat-of-arms?"* The answer was that there was no good reason. So Meghan, Molly, Matt, and I got out the crayons and Jack Daniel's, and got to makin' ourselves a by-God fam'ly crest.

Here is my result (click to enlarge... again, if it were only that easy).



Here is Meghan's...




* - Phrasing in tribute to Meghan's now past-professor, Dr. L, who was also mine, and for whom I maintain great affection.

It was pointed out to me today that my blog has too much orange in it. So I did something about it. But in the process I lost my links and my sitemeter. A leaner meaner Links section will be up in the near future, so don't think I have forgotten about you... unless you don't post once a month, then I have forgotten about you. Dead to me.

Thanks, Blogger. Your spam-resistance measures really seem to be working.

Stock Update

Not so much an update on stocks as an update on life as though pulled directly from the stockroom of blog topics...

• I have two more small trips to make (a weekend in Charlotte and another in Gatlinburg) before finishing my spring travel season. I am honestly quite grateful for the opportunities that side job affords me. It is pretty cool to travel as frequently as I do to the places to which I do. The travel gig also makes the year work financially. However, I no longer enjoy being gone so much, especially at the time of year when most of my arranging work should be being done. Furthermore, the attacks of Murphy seem to be less like exceptions and more like the norm. I am fairly certain that I will continue in this line of work next year. But I don't see myself staying in it long term.

• This weekend was Twilight. I would like to think that we can find a way to return to Athens for Twilight in the future, and that we can turn that weekend into one of our standing non-football return engagements. We had a great time with friends as we always do. Plus, I netted five (5) U.S. Dollars in poker for the weekend, which was enough to pay for the two movies Meghan and I rented this afternoon. And, I didn't wake up hungover on either morning. Also, Meghan made kickass cheddar biscuits Friday night.

• Today, Meghan and I rented "V for Vendetta" for repeat viewing, and "Flags of Our Fathers." The latter left me bawling.

• Russ will probably tell you that we encountered a Frozen Jack and Coke machine last night at the Sandbar in Athens. It is one of the greatest scientific discoveries of our time.

• Just spoken in my home: "Applesaucearrific... you didn't even know that was a word." I didn't.

• My Dad recently was evaluated for candidacy in Em0ry's Deep Brain Stimulation Surgery program. In the process, he spent a fair amount of time in a waiting area with other people who have Parkinson's with far worse expressions of the disease than he has. It was decided that no surgery will help with Dad's symptoms as much as his meds do, which was fine. More importantly, he found out that the hand he has been dealt could be far more miserable than it actually is. That in itself was probably worth the visit.

• The songs being repeatedly being sung in my house right now:

"Officer Krupke"
"Five.... Five Dollar... Five Dollar Footlong"
Bridge from "Theme from The Muppet Show" sung with the lyrics from the bridge to "Santa Claus is Coming To Town"
"Never Gonna Give You Up"

But first, this is Today on NBC

You may remember this picture of me in front of a house in Washington, DC. I only bring you this to remind you of what color my jacket is when I'm working for the travel company.

Now... Imagine me wearing the same jacket, with a little more hair, and about thirty more pounds. You know you like it.

Now, imagine that person creeping around the set of the Today Show (bastard stepchild fourth hour only) yesterday trying to get on TV. If you can sit through the ad, then fast forward to the 2:26 mark and keep watching the right-hand side of your high definition screen. You should see what you imagine.

Bullets of Shame

I have been shamed into offering a bulleted post. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

• Since my recent back pain began, I have been spending lots of time lying flat on my back [insert joke here] on the floor. I am currently in just such a position, with a heating pad under my back and a Jack and Dr. Pepper on my coffee table.

• I am also drinking alone tonight. While I pack for my trip to New York tomorrow, Meghan enjoys night number two of her passing her oral comprehensive exams. She and a couple of her girlfriends are, thus, painting the town red and black tonight.

• I have recently completed a Finale project for an elderly gentleman in the northern suburbs. When I sent him the file, I told him that I would be happy to correct anything with which he wasn't happy. His response to me: "If there's anything with which I'm unhappy, it was my failure to find a 20 year old blonde when I went shopping today."

• It would appear at this point that there are three possibilities for my location next fall. They are Athens (not very likely), Cobb County (somewhat likely), and Greater Nashville (somewhat likely). Each has its pros and cons. I am anxious to know.

• The wait from G-Day to the first kickoff is the worst part of the football obsession. Here are the durations between major events as I figure them, based on the beginning of the 07 campaign to that of the 08 campaign.

- Maximum number of days between regular season games: 14
- Number of days between SECCG and our own bowl game: 31
- Number of days between our bowl game and signing day: 36
- Number of days between signing day and G-Day: 59
- Number of days between G-Day and Kickoff 08: 153

Ugh... It's going to be a long summer.

• If you like jazz (and who doesn't), it might be a good idea to get to Athens for Twilight. Hell, it might be a good idea even if you don't.

• Just an FYI. Late last week, my Mom rolled her Toyota 4-Runner on a remote road in rural west Tennessee (she's okay). A gust of wind caught her, she over-corrected, and flipped the vehicle three to four times. The only significant injury took place when her hand was dragged against the ground through the busted sunroof. Otherwise, she's sore but fine.

They were considering getting rid of a car. This wasn't what they had in mind.

Home for now

On Sunday, I returned to the great green south after the aforementioned ten days on the road. While this particular trip was tough for logistical and personal reasons, it was also probably very well-timed for Meghan.

Her comps are tomorrow morning. The run-up in studying intensity really began for her when I left on April 3. The distractions I can present were probably better burdened upon the fine people of the Midwest, rather than on her.

Sure enough, when I returned I found that she had been free to study as much as she needed. That's when I said, "Hey, instead of working tonight, we should drink." So we did. The next night I offered, "Hey, instead of working tonight, we should make dessert." Strawberry, whipped cream, cake surprise thing? Check. Tonight, I will propose drinking and dessert. That will be postponed until tomorrow.

Side note: When I was a kid, I thought the word was "post-phoned" because someone called everyone and told them that the event would take place later.

Meghan does her thing tomorrow morning at 11am. I head to New York Saturday afternoon, and return Tuesday night llllllllllate.

Midway thoughts

I am sitting, as is frequently the case, at a gate in the A Concourse at Midway. I am also roughly halfway through day 6 of my 11 days of travel.

Meghan's parents came to Chicago last week, for a function that was unrelated to my travel here. Upon returning home, Meghan's mother wondered at the ease and convenience of Midway Airport, asking "why no one told me about Midway." Well, here's your notice ladies and gentlemen. It might be in the middle of the hood. It might use runways that are short enough that they are better suited for a Harrier than for the standard commercial aircraft of today. But it is by far the more convenient of your Chicago travel options. I find Midway to be the anti-Newark.

In spite of the relative efficiency and convenience of my current location, the trip so far has not been what one might call "smooth." I can't go into any details here, but it has been a very rough trip in which Murphy has struck numerous times.

Aside, the televisions here in the gate area are showing ABC Daytime programming, rather than the typical CNN. A promo just aired for tomorrow's episode of The View promising, "And Trisha Yearwood tells us the secret of a happy marriage." I really don't intend any offense here, but why would I take advice from her on that particular matter? Perhaps they can find something else to discuss.

In addition to the complications of the trip itself, my annoying back pain from last week became a full-on muscle strain. Needless to say, it has made travel difficult and painful. Plus, I walk as though I have pooped my pants.

In moments I will be experiencing Southwest's new boarding procedure for the first time. I will then be Nashville-bound for only the second time since I moved. I am so looking forward to the bus-ride back here on Thursday.

PS - Auditions are finished, and the Redc0at Band will have three female (and one male) drum majors for what I believe would be the first time in its history.

Ellen will probably appreciate this as much as anyone, but...

Tonight's flight to Chicago was like a Slim Jim: long and jerky.

An Old Day

If you could see me now, you would so assume that I am forty years my senior. Emotionally, that's probably actually true.

After spending most of my day on my taxes (Owed over $1000... ouch...), bitching about my taxes, and scouting my trip tomorrow, things finally settled down enough for dinner. Meghan made these Ranch Chicken Nuggets, which were tremendous, and tremendously difficult to make - so difficult in fact that she swore that she would never make them again, because Rachel Ray made them seem easier than they really were. I think I calmed Meghan's relative anger when I reminded her that Rachel Ray was a bitch.

We ate dinner while, at my insistence, watching Wheel of Fortune. I griped several times with language that sounded something like, "You know, Wheel of Fortune has really gone downhill." Wow. After that we watched Jeopardy!, which would already make me seem old. Add to this the fact that I DVR it nightly, and I include the exclamation point when writing the title, and you are once again reminded of how effing old I am. Also, I bitched about "damn Japanese" technology when the DVR did not work as expected. (For the record, the DVR is a Motorola, based in the Far East city of Schaumburg, Illinois.)

Meghan, who had appeared to be wandering harmlessly on the internet, audibly uttered the word "Dude" when she ran across this. I noted its extremely low price, and we discovered that we shared a longstanding desire to own one.

Upon entering the Target we walked immediately to the foot care aisle, where we did not find The Item. What we did find were these:



I was on 'em like Metamucil on Wilford Brimley's Quaker Oats. I did correctly assert that they might relieve my feet which had been killing me on my recent trips, and that the ten-day itinerary would be no kinder to me than the previous jaunts had been. But still. Age can be so repellin'.

I will update you on the gellin' experience as it develops.

After buying two sets of these, along with a new pair of black shoes and an inflatable foot bath (they were out of the bubbly kind), we headed back home. On the way, we discussed a future that would not include either of the two Charles Nelson Reilly couches in my den - not only because they're tacky, but also because they are broken. Also, my labored walk through Target suggests that they're making my back stiff as well.

When we arrived home, I anxiously installed my gel soles, and put a heating pad on my back. After Meghan broke it in, she brought me the foot bath, half-filled with warm soapy water. Shortly following that, she brought me a Dr. Pepper float.

A cane and a Geritol would wrap the day up nicely.

Some fools never learn

Totally forgetting what today was, my first email of the day had this in the contents. I said to Meghan, "Now that is the end of the business." She let me go for a couple of minutes.

Also, this seems to be worth everyone else's time. It's probably worth yours too.

Out like a lamb?

It seems like last week that I was uncontrollably giddy about being back in Athens (not to mention the reason for the return). Yesterday, I received my renewal notice from my landlord, indicating that the date for my 90-day notice not to renew is approaching. I can run the math a number of ways, depending on whether I want to feel like I have a lot of time left here or not. The bottom line is that this year is racing by, just like the rest of life.

The mania that accompanies Athens: The Beginning of the End (Sorta) Part II is only part of the frenzy around here. Meghan has taken two big tests over the last three weeks. Her comps are in three weeks.

I have work piled this high, and I'm loving it (mostly).

I leave for Chicago once again this Thursday. Ooh... and check this one out. I fly from Atlanta to Chicago on Thursday and work for four days. Then I fly from Midway to Nashville. The next day I pick up a group there, and the next I ride the bus nine hours with them back to Chicago. Four days later, I fly from O'hare to Atlanta. I'm pleased to have the work. But I hate being gone for that long. You know why.

They're not saying "Newww Gmail!!!" They're saying, "Boooooo Gmail!"

UPDATE: Based on what I'm hearing, not everyone experienced an email outage of over one hour today like I did. Others had it, and some for longer than I did. I would have felt better in the middle of it if this would have been easier to find.

Dagmar?

Dear Russ,

If your local weatherperson can have the name below, then you should be able to name your baby Jack Daniel, Zenu, or Matt Effin' Lauer if you want.

Peace,

Brett


(Photo: cbs46.com)

PS - I think her name sounds like an alien airline check-in agent. I will consider alternatives.