Monthly Archives: October 2007

The Qwest boys have been heavy up in the neighborhood since Friday. And when I say ‘heavy’, I mean heavy. Like 30+ trucks at one point. I guess the rain we had last week soaked into some big cable and ruined it. It carried 2700 pair of wires. Served a bunch of houses and one of the local hospitals or clinics or something. Ouch. The new one they put in has 3000 pair of wires in it. They have to individually hook up each wire. It takes forever. They’ve been working round the clock on it. I talked with one dude who was on his 36 straight hour. (Yes, that’s well into double time, in case you were wondering.) I’ve offered them coffee a couple of times, but they always say no. Even after explaining that me giving them coffee should in no way mean that they should bump my DSL speed while they were down in the hole. Because my coffee is no strings. Though if they wanted to I wouldn’t complain. Because it is good coffee. I mean, I grind it myself. So yeah, that should be worth something.

A quick down-and-back to Rochester over the weekend. Mostly to attend a party in honor of the man shown above with the big smile on his face. Why is he smiling you ask? Sure, that giant beer in his hand probably has something to do with it, but it’s mostly because after 39 years of slavin’ for The Man, my old man is officially done working. And yes, those are people years, not dog years. 39 of them. I know, wow. All for the Same Man. I know, WOW. Do people even do that anymore? I would bet not, and I can think of 401 reasons why. And they all start with ‘k’. That’s a 401k joke in case you missed it. I’m thinking I shouldn’t have gone with it now that I had to spell it out, but whatever, I laughed.
So yeah, he’s done. And now he’s spending his days doing whatever it is you do when you don’t have to work anymore. And honestly who cares what that is, I don’t even want to know, I don’t want the surprised ruined, because when I get there – the day before I turn 45 – it’s going to be awesome. I just hope it includes go-karts.
Two other notables from the down and back:

• The Elk Farm in Pine Island had a new[er] sign up that mentioned that in addition to ‘meat products’, they now also sell antlers. “Oh sweet!” I say, “We should get some antlers!” “No,” she says. “We could use them as a coat rack!” “No,” she says. “To hang keys?” “No.” “I got it, we…” “No.” “One pair?” “No” “A smal…” “No.” She wins. Again. Boo.
• We stopped along the way home and did the pumpkin thing. It was a hardcore working farm this time. Like “over there are 1000 cows and over there are a couple truckloads of pumpkins we arranged into a ‘patch’… have at it.” Lemme just say you could smell the Halloween everywhere. But it was still the usual blast. The yard of the farmhouse had been decorated with like 200 crazy ghosts and zombies and stuff. Total Griswold style. So that was cool. And then when we were done the nice farmer dude wheeled our wagon load of pumpkins over to our eurotrash sedan and helped me load them up, all the while making odd pseudo-political conversation in what seemed to be an attempt to get me to take a stand on the Iraq war. What this guy didn’t realize is that if it would have saved me a couple bucks on pumpkins, I would have taken whatever side he wanted. Duh.

Meet Monica. Monica lives here in the neighborhood with her family. We hang out at the park and have playdates and the occasional chaotic family dinner party and/or bonfire type thing. She’s a riot. She’s married to a guy in marketing. He’s also a riot. He’s a lot like me, just better than I am at everything sports related. I call him Dave+1. Oh, you play soccer? He was all state. Hockey? Team captain and MVP. You ski? Yeah, he heli’d in Alaska for a couple of seasons. With a grizzly bear on his back. Did I mention he’s a riot? It’s not all one sided, though, I’m better at some stuff – like yard work and math – and one time he had a bat in his house and he came whimpering to my door to ask for help and that was totally sissy, so it’s not like he’s superman. I also think I’m taller. But who’s measuring.
Anyway, a while back D+1 needed some website work done so he naturally turned to me because he knew my job has something to do with computers and we all look alike to him. So I helped him out and it wasn’t that much work and he broke out the “if there’s anything I can do for you” routine and I made a note and we shook hands and that was that.
Did I mention my wardrobe is a mess? Because it is. And even though that’s a whiplash tangent, it’s still relevant. Because I have no clue how to buy clothes. Never have, never will. But guess who does? That’s right: Monica. She’s a “stylist”. She knows about things like “cuffs” and “fabrication” and “socks”. She bought clothes for Leann Chin (!!) and styled for Macy’s and did tons of work that relies on color matching skills that I simply don’t have.
So here’s the part where I tell you about how I parlayed my geek skills into a personal styling/shopping experience. It started tonight when she came over for a baseline meeting. A “what do I have to work with purge-a-thon spectacular” if you will. We talked and gawked for a while and she laughed and I tried to defend myself and she kept laughing and at one point she said something like “oh, these are 90% polyester!!” though that may not be an exact quote because it was hard for me to understand her what with her talking and throwing up in her mouth at the same time. I think it went well.
So now she’s got her shopping list and her idea book and all I have to do is sit here and wait for her to knock on my door with The Pants and The Shirts. It could happen anytime. It’s all very exciting. Maybe a little too exciting, even. It is just pants, after all. But still, they could show up *anytime*. Pants! At your door!
Also, I’m a little concerned she’s overly invested [emotionally] in this whole thing and that she’s going to be upset when I refuse to wear some killer stylish orange quilted puffy blazer thing she got for me. I asked her about it and she swears she’s just having fun and that she won’t be offended either way. I’m not sure if that means I can be offended or not, but as long as she’s cool with it.
Off we go.