“S'why I'm easy…easy like Sunday mornin',
It's why I'm easy…easy like Sunday morning‘“
---Commodores
Each day has it’s own personality if you think about. Everyone loves TGIF, Wednesday is hump day and Mondays suck to most people. Sundays and their mornings have a certain pace too.
One thing I love about Sunday mornings (especially June ones) is that they open up at their own speed. The one thing that helps that along is that everyone is in no rush to get up or get much done. With that, it helps to keep this neighborhood relaxed and quiet.
I can get up early, take the dog out and occasionally hear the sound of someone’s kitchen door closing, or the sound of light conversation drifting out of open windows. One thing that helps to create the mood is the fact there is very little traffic. I can’t hear Route 95’s roar at all on a Sunday morning…and I live 2 miles from it.
My house isn’t situated on Big Sur, not on Martha’s Vineyard nor up in the Adirondacks. But there are some Sundays where I feel where I live…isn’t that bad at all.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
The Taste of Bone
“Mmmnmfff! Shit…this has got to end quick” I was thinking.
I had a Marine trained dental surgeon pulling, pushing, grabbing and cracking one of my old crowned teeth that has seen it’s last days.
There’s that strange sound of green wood cracking as that molar came loose. Then, then that old taste I remember as a little kid, the taste of my own jaw bone. Ugh! Old memories, even olfactory ones, never are forgotten.
Now I sit here with a wad of gauze in my mouth, stemming the bleeding and I’m drooling over a Novocain-ed lower lip as well. I look sooo sexy!
I had a Marine trained dental surgeon pulling, pushing, grabbing and cracking one of my old crowned teeth that has seen it’s last days.
There’s that strange sound of green wood cracking as that molar came loose. Then, then that old taste I remember as a little kid, the taste of my own jaw bone. Ugh! Old memories, even olfactory ones, never are forgotten.
Now I sit here with a wad of gauze in my mouth, stemming the bleeding and I’m drooling over a Novocain-ed lower lip as well. I look sooo sexy!
Thursday, June 17, 2010
KA-POOM! OWWW! SON OF A BITCH
Rhode Island has passed a bill to make sparklers legal once more. They claim they can generate about one million dollars in tax revenue if this is enacted.
Sparklers are fun, though not as fun as the explosives like M-80s, salutes and the various firecrackers that go BOOM!
I can remember as a kid my Dad being a shaken worry-wort when he watched me hold a sparkler. I figure he thought I’d set myself on fire or the entire neighborhood as well.
“Now just hold it, away from you…and don’t throw it in the air!” he warned.
“Throw it in the air?” I thought…hmmm…sounds like that might be cool. So when he turned his back I tossed it into the air. It was cool. A little comet flying through the air and landing on the roof of our house. My Dad then turned around to see if I was doing what I was told.
“WHAT DID I TELL YOU???!!” he shrieked!
Parents are no fun. As I got older and managed to buy my own fireworks, we could venture off and fire off as many of the things as we wanted. I have had countless salutes go off in my hand due to those unpredictable wicks that either burn safely for 3 seconds, or ¼ of a second if it was ornery. Salutes won’t blow your fingers off but they’re great for making them numb for five minutes.
I’ve also managed to weaken the hearing in my left ear in the summer of 1978 when I had a salute blow off inside a pipe. We shoved them down there to make the report louder. Unfortunately, I had turned my head and my ear was in the perfect spot to receive that blast. The other reason for the lousy hearing I have might have might be due to the fourth row Aerosmith concert seats I had in 1983, but that’s another story.
The problem with fireworks and boys is that using them according to the directions, “Lay on ground, light fuse, get away” (this was written on them all I swear) becomes real dull quick. We blew things up with them instead. Our plastic models, bottles, mouse holes, squeamish girls were a better use of them! Bottle rockets became “cat seeking smart-crackers.” Roman candles were much more fun if you did lay them on the ground and let the recoil jerk them in any silly direction as they fired those fire balls.
That was then.
A few years ago, my friends down the street had a box of various fireworks. I hadn’t lit anything off in years but I managed to fire just one. I pulled out a skyrocket and lit it. When it launched I immediately had visions of being sued for the moon for burning someone’s house down as the rocket fell back to Earth.
Being a homeowner, an adult…culpable…doesn’t make fireworks fun anymore!
Sparklers are fun, though not as fun as the explosives like M-80s, salutes and the various firecrackers that go BOOM!
I can remember as a kid my Dad being a shaken worry-wort when he watched me hold a sparkler. I figure he thought I’d set myself on fire or the entire neighborhood as well.
“Now just hold it, away from you…and don’t throw it in the air!” he warned.
“Throw it in the air?” I thought…hmmm…sounds like that might be cool. So when he turned his back I tossed it into the air. It was cool. A little comet flying through the air and landing on the roof of our house. My Dad then turned around to see if I was doing what I was told.
“WHAT DID I TELL YOU???!!” he shrieked!
Parents are no fun. As I got older and managed to buy my own fireworks, we could venture off and fire off as many of the things as we wanted. I have had countless salutes go off in my hand due to those unpredictable wicks that either burn safely for 3 seconds, or ¼ of a second if it was ornery. Salutes won’t blow your fingers off but they’re great for making them numb for five minutes.
I’ve also managed to weaken the hearing in my left ear in the summer of 1978 when I had a salute blow off inside a pipe. We shoved them down there to make the report louder. Unfortunately, I had turned my head and my ear was in the perfect spot to receive that blast. The other reason for the lousy hearing I have might have might be due to the fourth row Aerosmith concert seats I had in 1983, but that’s another story.
The problem with fireworks and boys is that using them according to the directions, “Lay on ground, light fuse, get away” (this was written on them all I swear) becomes real dull quick. We blew things up with them instead. Our plastic models, bottles, mouse holes, squeamish girls were a better use of them! Bottle rockets became “cat seeking smart-crackers.” Roman candles were much more fun if you did lay them on the ground and let the recoil jerk them in any silly direction as they fired those fire balls.
That was then.
A few years ago, my friends down the street had a box of various fireworks. I hadn’t lit anything off in years but I managed to fire just one. I pulled out a skyrocket and lit it. When it launched I immediately had visions of being sued for the moon for burning someone’s house down as the rocket fell back to Earth.
Being a homeowner, an adult…culpable…doesn’t make fireworks fun anymore!
Monday, June 14, 2010
Is it Safe?
I hate dentists. Well, not them personally, but their occupation. I finally got the courage to make an appointment for an oral surgeon. I should’ve made it back in December to take care of a tooth my original dentist harangued me about.
There’s a scene in Dustin Hoffman’s “Marathon Man” where Lawrence Olivier, a Nazi dentist who worked the death camps, tortures Hoffman into giving up some info.
“Is it safe?” asks Olivier
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Answers Hoffman. That’s followed by a blood curdling scream as Olivier jams a dental probe deep into a cavity.
Now, I never went through that. But the level of dentistry in 1969 when I was five years old was a close comparison. Ah, phobias. You have to love them, so many different ones you can try on.
What’s odd about it? I can sit there and rationally discuss with a competent dentist about why some things should be done. I can follow the argument. I can understand the flow and reasoning…but get me to sit in that chair to do it!
So, I caved into the “right and positive choice” this morning and made the appointment.
*****
In other news, the weather sucks. I swear global warming is happening so fast we’ll have the flora and fauna you see in South Carolina one day.
There’s a scene in Dustin Hoffman’s “Marathon Man” where Lawrence Olivier, a Nazi dentist who worked the death camps, tortures Hoffman into giving up some info.
“Is it safe?” asks Olivier
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Answers Hoffman. That’s followed by a blood curdling scream as Olivier jams a dental probe deep into a cavity.
Now, I never went through that. But the level of dentistry in 1969 when I was five years old was a close comparison. Ah, phobias. You have to love them, so many different ones you can try on.
What’s odd about it? I can sit there and rationally discuss with a competent dentist about why some things should be done. I can follow the argument. I can understand the flow and reasoning…but get me to sit in that chair to do it!
So, I caved into the “right and positive choice” this morning and made the appointment.
*****
In other news, the weather sucks. I swear global warming is happening so fast we’ll have the flora and fauna you see in South Carolina one day.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
...And We're Off!
So here is a new blog! What you can expect here are my personal musings on life, the world…etcetera. I may bore the crap out of you or not. However, this is for my personal satisfaction versus any entertainment value I can exhibit for my probably tiny audience. Though I do know I’ll have to insert some interesting elements to keep you engaged.
You won’t be getting nasty gossip here. Though if you are very good at reading between the lines, you may just “get it.” Also, I’ll try not to make this some stream-of-consciousness spew thingy (no promises though!).
So, let’s start. What did I do today? Not a goddamn thing really; or anything that could’ve been called productive. I did vacuum though as the dog hair was getting a bit ridiculous and started to gross me out. I don’t consider that accomplishment as a “job well done.“ When it concerns housework, it doesn’t give me any sort of fulfillment. Repetitive tasks are dulllllll.
I did go out last night though to the Celtic. For those of you who do not know this place, it’s a neighborhood bar in Pawtucket/Attleboro. I was a good boy and left before closing to avoid the tax collectors (cops) that are out in force at 1 AM. I’m at a point in my life where five beers is more than enough over the space of 4 hours. Damn I get old! It’s not like when I was fourteen and could swill down cheap Popov vodka straight at some bonfire in the woods.
Speaking of taxes, I sort of secretly wish Pawtucket would go into receivership. That way, a judge can negate the teacher’s union contract…and others. Property taxes are a bit of an annoyance to me as they keep HIKING them! Ah well, we’ll see how things play out I’m sure.
You won’t be getting nasty gossip here. Though if you are very good at reading between the lines, you may just “get it.” Also, I’ll try not to make this some stream-of-consciousness spew thingy (no promises though!).
So, let’s start. What did I do today? Not a goddamn thing really; or anything that could’ve been called productive. I did vacuum though as the dog hair was getting a bit ridiculous and started to gross me out. I don’t consider that accomplishment as a “job well done.“ When it concerns housework, it doesn’t give me any sort of fulfillment. Repetitive tasks are dulllllll.
I did go out last night though to the Celtic. For those of you who do not know this place, it’s a neighborhood bar in Pawtucket/Attleboro. I was a good boy and left before closing to avoid the tax collectors (cops) that are out in force at 1 AM. I’m at a point in my life where five beers is more than enough over the space of 4 hours. Damn I get old! It’s not like when I was fourteen and could swill down cheap Popov vodka straight at some bonfire in the woods.
Speaking of taxes, I sort of secretly wish Pawtucket would go into receivership. That way, a judge can negate the teacher’s union contract…and others. Property taxes are a bit of an annoyance to me as they keep HIKING them! Ah well, we’ll see how things play out I’m sure.
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