When Zack was little we had a wonderful woman come to the house and watch him every day. Sylvia was in her sixties and she was as sweet and nice as could be. It meant a lot that we could have him stay at home, and we always felt that he was in good hands.
One day Sylvia brought over a little rake so Zack could get out back and make like he was doing yard work. It was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Then me and Alex found another use for the rake.
I don’t know how, but we discovered you could scoop up dog poop with the little rake, and wielding it like a lacrosse stick, hurl it over the fence against the barn next door. It would strike with a thud. What we found especially delightful was when it stuck to the wall of the barn. This depended on a number of factors, including temperature and freshness.
Did Zack tell her what we were doing or did she put two and two together, noticing the poop on the rake and the poop on the wall? We’ll never know, but when Sylvia found that we were using Zack’s little rake to catapult crap from the yard, it didn’t go over real well. She wasn’t crazy about Alex, so it didn’t matter to him, but after that things were never quite the same between me and Sylvia.
What’s the point? I’m not sure, but nine years later it still makes me feel bad. She did something special, and in turn, we did something stupid —and if it weren’t too late to apologize, I would.
5/26/08 - Written on Back of Napkin
Why’s David Paterson so popular with the ladies? He has a cute glaucoma.
4/23/08 - Dinner Conversation
Zack: If Alex was on death row, would you make him his favorite food as a last meal?
Ann: Did he try to kill me, too?
Zack: No, he just killed someone else.
Ann: Yes.
4/19/08 - Unfinished Blog Post
Getting old. It blows, doesn’t it? I’ve been fighting aging by acting more immature, but the jury’s still out on how this is working out.
Undated - Scrawled on Back of Deposit Slip
Xcuse me? Are you off your meds?
Undated - Folded Up Post It Note
ortho bucks…ipods…needles…eyelids…has mono “i’m not getting mono”…jesus c.s…group discuss…
5/2/08 - Unfinished Blog Post
So Zack whispers to me in church, “That’s cool.” Cool? “Yeah, cool.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“The axe. It’s cool.” What?!
“The axe of the Apostles. You know. They had axes. That’s cool.”
There’s no doubt about it, Vermont is a fascinating and exotic place. Drive up Route 7 and it’s like you’re crossing into a different country. For example:
1. Gun laws. In Vermont they’re virtually non-existent. They require no permits or registration and you can pretty much buy as many as you want. And in Vermont you can carry a concealed handgun as long as you don’t do so in a school or government building.
2. Vermont’s civil union law. You want to spend your life with someone of the same sex, go right ahead, it’s Vermont. Sure, the federal government still withholds certain benefits, but you can thank Bill Clinton for that.
3. Cheaper gas. That photo was taken on Sunday, May 26 after I filled my tank at the Hemmings service station in Bennington. Actually, since it’s full service, I sat in the car while someone else did the work. It felt like 1979. If I’d said a year ago that $3.89 was cheap, you’d have thought I needed my head examined.
Guns for everybody, same sex unions, cheap gas. Throw in a case of beer and you’ve got yourself a party.
A lot of people in my neighborhood, the ones with the lush green carpets for lawns, actually make a face when they walk by my sorry excuse for a front yard. But I’m going to show them. That photo to the left is $120 worth of mulch, and by 8:00am today I’ll be outside spreading it in the flower beds.
On this Memorial Day, enjoy your parades and parties. Fill up the cooler with beer and head for a picnic. Throw a hamburger on the grill. But while you’re celebrating, take a moment to remember those who sacrificed to make all this possible.
Heard It Through The Bovine
Feeling a need to cozy up with my neighbors, I started contributing to the TU’s Bethlehem Blog. My first post, a reprint of the Bethlehem Soccer Club/Nazi Eagle item drew the hostile response I predicted. This week, I put up something about the new tattoo parlor in town. This is a departure from the happy mommy/charming village/rah-rah stuff that’s mostly on that blog.
Ann says to me, “Are they paying you?” No, I explain, but remember what they say: do what you love and the money will follow. “Oh, yeah? They also say ‘why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?’”
Off And Running
Madeo returns tomorrow in the $75,000 Alydar Stakes at Hollywood Park. Mike Smith, who brought the colt from behind to win on April 30th, will take the mount once again. Haven’t seen early odds yet, but expect Madeo and Harlene to be favorites. The Alydar is tomorrow’s second race and post time will be about 4:50 east coast time. With six horses running some exotic betting may be in order.
This One’s For The Ladies
A local woman was charged with murder after allegedly stabbing her ex-boyfriend to death on a Troy street corner. She had earlier keyed his car and was also charged with criminal mischief.
I’d like to learn to play a musical instrument before I die. With any luck, that gives me another thirty or thirty-five years, which should be plenty of time. It’s not that I haven’t tried, like during my fourth grade fling with the trumpet. Never got the hang of that, but I could fake it passably enough to march in the Carle Place Memorial Day Parade. After I quit taking lessons I was afraid to tell my parents, so I’d leave with the trumpet in morning and hide it in the back yard. Long story.
Since then there was the guitar, the piano, the harmonica, the guitar again —and once after seeing a bluegrass show I wanted to learn how to play the banjo but had the good sense not to buy one.
But now I believe I’ve found something that might work for me: the ukulele. It only has four strings, so if you do the math it must be 20% easier than a guitar. And as you can see from this video, there are some cool things one can do with a uke:
Those with discerning tastes may also wish to see Gus and Fin playing The Buzzcocks classic “What Do I Get.”
I had a couple of bucks, so I asked the clerk at Stewart’s for a scratch off. Which one? I don’t know, pick me any of one of those two dollars tickets. Back in the car I grab a nickel and start scratching my way to victory. That’s when I realized I was in trouble.
Scratch the YOUR LETTERS area to reveal 18 letters within the box. Scratch each letter in the Cashword puzzle that corresponds to YOUR LETTERS.
HONK! The light was green and the guy behind me wanted to go. At the next light I continued reading.
Complete three or more words in the Cashword puzzle using YOUR LETTERS to win the prize shown in the Prize Legend. See back for details.
Details? HONK! The light was green again. I drove off thinking, WTF? They gave me the scratch off game for Mensa members. Actually, that can’t be: Mensans are bright enough not to waste their money on these things. I pulled over and started revealing my 18 letters. Then I started scratching off each letter in the Cashword box that corresponded to MY LETTERS. Ten minutes later I abandoned the project.
It took me a week to finally get everything scratched off. I’m affraid I might have voided the game, but if not I’m pretty sure I’ve either won $2 or $10,000.
By the way: If those Mensans are so smart , why do they have such an awful web site?
Paul Vandenburgh of Talk 1300 referred to me as a slug, a creep, and a punk on the air yesterday morning —not necessarily in that order. He then continued his half-hour long rant saying I had, “No talent” and “No ability.” Well, Mr. Vandenburgh, you are wrong. WRONG! I have lots of ability. Talent? Eh….
The punk thing’s interesting. What with all the Ramones and Flogging Molly on my iPod, yes, I’m totally a punk. And I’ll gladly cop to the slug label. Who doesn’t love those spunky Banana Slugs of the University of California at Santa Cruz?
But a creep? I’ll defer to you on that, Vandenburgh, because you’re the expert.
People at home were getting nervous —and they started in with the disclaimers. Zack or Ann would go, “This is not for your blog, but…” Or they’d do something funny and then warn me after that it better not show up on Keyboard Krumbs.
I will not have my home be a place where people are afraid to speak their mind. No one should worry that they’ll be ridiculed for asking a question or expressing themselves in any way. As for the blog, certain things are off limits. And this is why I have established the Not For Blog rule.
Under Not For Blog (NFB), everyone has a yellow flag which they may throw once a week, declaring something NFB. If they see me looking at them funny, or worse yet taking notes, the yellow flag can be used to negate my right to publish it on the blog.
Conversely, I have the right to overrule four NFB calls per month. This is exercised by throwing a red flag I keep tucked in my sock, Bill Belichick style. Weekly NFB declarations may not be carried over and accumulated, but I can use my four overrules any time I like and on anyone I wish. This brings into question the matter of strategy. Do you save your NFB overrules until the last week, or use them as you go along?
I’ve decided to save them because this keeps people on their toes. And since the end of the month is approaching, I’d advise everybody to think before opening their mouths.
Casey Seiler from the Times Union wanted to know where we could meet and have lunch. Lunch? I have no idea —I bring my lunch. I emailed back the first thing that came to mind: how about the 76 Diner? For some reason the 76 Diner seemed like the right place to spill your guts to a reporter.
I walked in the door and realized that the 76 also looks like a good place for a mob hit. Having seen a lot of gangster movies, I tried to jockey around so my back was against the wall and not exposed to the entrance. Mr. Seiler has also seen those movies, and being young and agile, he beat me to it. Anyway, here’s the column that emerged from our little get together. Just for the record, I had the grilled chicken club, making my story worth approximately $8.99.
There’s no doubt about it, Vermont is a fascinating and exotic place. Drive up Route 7 and it’s like you’re crossing into a different country. For example:
