Pocket Olives

Well, this one has been cooking in my brain for a week or so and one of the side effects is that I can now add to my original thoughts on Springfield.  The middle grandson (Boy Genius) and I went down for a couple days this week during his Spring Break.

So, for starters, we all made it home safely from Springfield.  It was quite a unique experience, let me tell you.  No, I mean it, let me tell you about our experiences at the Legislative Conference.  I mean, after all, it's kinda what I do here, you know?

Let's see... where to start... Oh!  I know!  Food, let's talk about food!

Or at least where we ate.

Now, granted, Springfield doesn't have the concentration of fine dining that a city like Chicago does.  So, don't misunderstand what I'm about to say.  Besides, the food itself was fine.  On the other hand, the service was, well, I don't know, awkward?  The place we chose is known for who you see there as much as for what you eat there.  It's very popular among the political crowd, which means it's not unusual to see various elected officials dining there.  I think that's why our chief political nerd chose it for dinner our first night.  I'm not throwing stones at him either fwiw, but if you know me, you know I hold my stomach in high regard and would much prefer an excellent meal over random politico sightings.  After all, they're in season now and you can't swing a dead cat without hitting one.

I wouldn't btw.

Swing a dead cat, that is.

So, you know, don't sic the ASPCA on me.  Keep Sarah McLachlan away too.  I'm fine with cats, really I am.  For most of my life I've shared a residence with them and we've always been fine.  Although, truth be told, if that arrangement never comes up again, I'm ok with it...

Back to the topic...

We were seated after a brief delay.  Although some IBEW guys came in after us and were seated before us.  Just sayin.  Once in, we placed our beverage order along with, I believe, an appetizer or three.  As our waitress started bringing the drinks by, there was, oh let's call it a bit of confusion on her part.  Up to and including dropping the olives for the martini that was ordered by one of our little group.  I'm not sure why they weren't, you know, IN the martini, but whatevs.  At any rate, when she came back, she produced, from her pocket, replacement olives.

Two things came to my mind...

A.) Why did she have olives in her pocket?  

B.)  Pocket Olives would be a great name for a band.

There were some interesting suggestions on her part, in accompaniment to our food selections.  She seemed particularly proud of their red gravy, even suggesting it along with an Alfredo sauced dish.  But, before I stumble off onto an unwarranted ramble, let me direct you to the end of our meal.  Several of us ordered coffee at the end of the meal, nothing unusual there.  And, if you know me IRL, you know just how important a part of my life coffee is.  I mean, after all, I'm sitting in a coffeehouse as I write this.  Whiskey may be the water of life but coffee is, at the very least, nature's defibrillator after all.

The coffee that was delivered to us was, ummmmmm, an abomination, no, a crime against humanity, no, it was, it was, GOOD CHRIST I CAN'T EVEN FIND THE WORDS!!!

I think in all honesty, the coffee was run through old grounds.  You could see the bottom of the cup through it, that's how thin and watery this slop was.  So, obviously the above is only a mild exaggeration.  And to top it off, she kept asking us if we wanted more.  Like, every 30 seconds or so. It was like the record had a skip in it.  OK, I recognize I'm dating myself with that reference, so if you don't get it, ask an old person.  And screw you for pointing it out to me.

Just kidding.

Not really.

Other than me stepping on a portion of my anatomy you never want to step on in front of a recently defeated candidate, the trip was more or less uneventful.  Oh wait!  Hold that thought.  Our very own Local 3234 Secretary/3234 PAC Chairman presented to the assembled group on the last day of the Conference.

He did great btw, showing how to set up your very own local PAC.  That was one of the high points to me, seeing him on the statewide stage representing our Local.  One of the other guys represented Local 3234 in the Honor Guard at the opening ceremony and that too meant a lot to me.  Lastly, having two guys make their first visit to Springfield for this event made my highlight list as well.  Looking at the end of my career, it helps ease the separation anxiety when I know 3234 is being left in capable young hands.  The guys that came before me sacrificed so much to establish what we have.  Knowing the younger guys understand the importance of that and are ready to take on the challenge of growing it is definitely a warm fuzzy.

This week, I made a return trip to Springfield with the Boy Genius in tow.  The weather was not our friend; cold and drizzly if not downright biblical deluge coming from the sky for the better part of our visit.  But we did manage to get a visit with a State Senator from Rock Island, Neil Anderson, who btw is a firefighter in Moline, IL along with a visit to the Abraham Lincoln Museum.  Thanks to my State Rep. (and one time political opponent) Barb Wheeler for the hook up on tickets.  We spent several hours there looking through the various exhibits and really enjoyed ourselves.  We agreed to head back around 3:00 yesterday afternoon and had, despite horrible weather for much of the drive, an uneventful (that's a good thing btw) trip home.

As we were heading north, I found my mind wandering to a variety of topics over the course of the four hours or so drive.  Driving through rural northern Illinois, I wondered who came up with the address system currently in use in some parts.  I wondered how the local FD's get where they need to go and I played through in my head what I would say and how I would describe to the 9-1-1 dispatcher where to send the troops.

"Look, I'm on XYZ Road about a mile or so east of ABC Street.  I don't know the number, because, apparently, you people don't require them.  I'll tell you what, unless you drop those tones right now and get them started you can just tell them to drive north out of town, they'll see the header cause that fucker is getting pretty big already"

Or something to that effect.  It made me laugh.  A couple times over.

Unless the Quiet Child is reading this.  In that case, what I meant to say was that my mind was laser-focused on driving, the roads, and the vehicles that we shared those roads with.  Because I would never, ever, do anything even close to letting my mind wander while one of her offspring is in the car with me...

For real.

Peace

Let's go for a walk

These words invariably elicit a prompt response from an otherwise sedentary dog.  Namely, mine.

Sophie is, as I've mentioned here before, my very favorite dog of all time.  And this is one of my favorite pictures of her, odd as it may seem.  It will forever put a smile on my face because, when she's laying down like this, if I lay down in front of her, like I did to take this picture, her tail immediately starts rhythmically thumping the floor.  So, I mean, obvs, right?

Today, she and I are celebrating her 11th birthday.  I'd like to say I remember the day we brought her home, but that would be a lie.  Of sorts.  I don't have any clear recollections of that day.  I do, however, vividly remember the day I found out we were going to get her.

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned here, multiple times, Tobi the Jack Russell terrorist (not an autocorrect) and how he ruled the roost.  So, adding a dog to the family wasn't something I'd really considered, even though (maybe especially because) we'd taken an ill-fated attempt at taking in a Lab that needed a new home.  As it turned out the reason the Lab needed a new home was her inability to get along with other dogs...  $600.00 worth of vet bills later, the Lab was out and Tobi was recuperating.

So, when the Quiet Child remarked how she'd like to get a puppy so that the soon-to-be-born Boy Genius would have a puppy to grow up with, Diane offered up her assistance and even recommended a breeder that lives near us.  She called and found out that he did, in fact, have two litters of puppies to check out.  Diane made an appointment to see said puppies the next day.

While I was at work.

My phone rang the next afternoon.  It was Diane.  What follows are direct quotes, etched in my memory...

Me: Hi

Diane: These puppies are so frickin' cute!

M: You want one don't you?

D: Can we?

Like I really had any say in the matter.  Picking out which puppy went similarly...

Diane: Do you want a Black Lab or a Yellow Lab?

Me: (after several seconds of careful consideration) you know, I'm kind of a traditionalist.  I think I'd like a Black Lab.

D: We're getting a Yellow one.

M: Ok

Even though Diane was the one to take Sophie to obedience classes as soon as Soph was old enough, and she worked with her every. single. day. Sophie always gravitated to me, a trait which continues to this day.

We've been through a lot together, Sophie and I, over the last 10+ years.  From Diane's passing to two moves to my divorce from the pirate.  And through so many times when I didn't really care to interact with people, Sophie was always there, laying at my feet, completely non-judgmentally supporting me as only a dog can.  So the least I can do for her is try and make her life as comfortable as I can.

That's not always easy for this dog.  She's got a dietary condition that, if left untreated results in explosive (not an exaggeration) diarrhea (sorry for the visual) along with arthritis in both hips and synthetic ligaments in both knees.  If someone had told me ten years ago that I would spend THAT much money on a dog I'd have laughed in their face.  Now?  How could I not?

At this point in her life, Sophie isn't really up for long walks.  Or moving rapidly.  Instead, we take four or five walks of maybe a half-mile or so over the course of the day when I'm home.  These walks take anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour.  Allow me to try and reproduce a typical timeline-

9:03 Leave the house.
9:04 Sniff the neighbor's yard.
9:07 Sniff the neighbor's yard three houses down.  Also, lose interest in her squeaky ball.
9:12 Take care of business.
9:17 Lay down in the shade.

9:24 Sniff the shrubbery on the corner.
9:25 Lay down in the shade.

9:31 Cross the street.
9:40 "Visit" with one of our neighbors and her Black Lab Junie.
9:46 Gaze longingly at Junie's kiddie pool while I tell her no.
9:55 Lay down in the shade.  Roll around in something disgusting.

10:02 Grudgingly go back into the house.

Due in large part to our walk routine, we have met most of our neighbors.  In fact, more neighbors know her name than mine.  And I'm not even joking.

She's been good for me in so many ways, getting me up and out of the house so many times when that wasn't necessarily something I was prepared to do.  Sometimes like this.

Subtle, no?

Over the years, she has offered no solid advice yet listens patiently whenever I need to vent.  To say I've been through a lot in the last ten years is kind of an understatement.  And Sophie has been there for me every step of the way.  She regularly brings a smile to my face.

Sometimes when I need it most.

Let's go for a walk.

Peace

The Genius of doing good, or, "Hair" he goes again.

I'm not even going to apologize for the terrible pun, so let's get that out of the way right up front.

If you know me IRL, you know where my hairline is located.  That is to say, roughly at the back of my neck.  This is (only slightly) by choice.  It dates back to 2007; the first, and only, year I participated in St. Baldrick's head shaving fundraiser.  A friend had a child fighting a brain tumor (she kicked it's butt btw) and it seemed to me to be kind of a fun way to help out.  I wore my hair pretty close-cropped anyway and, after all, it's only hair.  I kind of liked not having any gray hair afterwards and decided to keep the look.  This, to me, eliminated the desire to do it again, since I'd already proven I'd do it.

There were a couple ulterior motives for sticking with baldness.  Shortly before this all took place, I was in the middle of a phone conversation with the Boy Child.  He'd had a union-related question and wanted to pick my brain.  He was at work at the time.  After I answered his query I heard him relay the information to his coworkers, and this is a direct quote -

"Hey, my Old Man said..."

Old.  Man.

Ex frickin scuse me?

I had never, to my knowledge, been referred to in that way before.  It didn't sit well, as confirmed by the hoots and hollers I heard back through the phone after I yelled at the Boy Child over his choice of alias. Also around this time, the Quiet Child made a similar age-related disparaging comment to me.  Apparently I was already numbed to it since I'm blanking on the particular unintended venom thrown my way.

So, my head-shaving was not completely selfless, since I gained something from it too.  As I said, not having the (mustache excluded) gray (and btw, the mustache is NOT going anywhere) was ok (except for about a three-week long lapse in judgement in my mid-twenties, it's been with me since I was able to grow one) with me.

Moving right along...

I have, here, on occasion, taken my grandfatherly privilege to spout off about the littles.  Even the not-so-little anymore Heir to the Throne, but this time I'm tipping my hat to the Boy Genius.

Last night, for the 4th year in a row, the Boy Genius took part in his local St. Baldrick's head shaving event.  This is, and has always been, something he wanted to do without any external prodding.  He does it to help kids in need.  He's a pretty special kid, all bias aside.  To do this event every year he's been win school is, to me, a very cool thing, and he's helped his school raise a nice bit of money for a charity that, by these metrics, seems to do things the right way.

And that's important.  It's important to me, and it should be important to you too.  We all work hard for our money *pulls out soapbox, climbs up on top* and if, at the end of the week when we sit down to pay bills, we have a little extra to give to those less fortunate, we should be sure the money goes where we want to go and not to pad some CEO's personal bottom line.

There are numerous examples of where not to send your money, fire up your Google machine before you give.

*puts soapbox away*

So, I just want to go on record to tell my readers, both of you, how proud I am of this guy

For doing this 

Again.

In addition to raising progressives, it seems we're doing a pretty good job of raising thoughtful, caring, considerate human beings too.

I'm a pretty fortunate guy, don't you think?

Peace