I need your help....

Now I really don't want this to come across wrong. Even before you know what I'm talking about I want to say that I understand the purpose behind this - I'm fully aware that when people say this, they mean it to as a good thing, as a term of respect, a term of recognition - it's all meant to be good. However, it just doesn't "fit". It's like a peanut butter & jelly sandwich with a juicy slice of honey smoked ham in the middle. It's like spaghetti with syrup instead of sauce. It's like putting on cowboy boots to go to the gym for a workout...

"Happy" Veterans Day.

Like I said, I get it - we're in a habit of saying stuff like that. Happy Thanksgiving, Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas... It's a way to recognize the significance of the day. And by the true definition of Veterans Day it works - Vererans Day was actually started as a way to recognize the armistice that ended WW1. At first it was called Armstice Day, but it was renamed in 1954 to encompass all Veterans. If it was still Armistice Day it would be a "Happy" day - the ending of a brutal war is certainly a happy occasion. But being a Veteran is not always a "Happy" thing. It's hard to explain... To me, Veterans Day is more so a solemn time than a happy time. It's a time to think about those who came before me & also those after me. It's a time to honor the sacrifices that so many different people have made - from sitting in a foxhole in BFE on Christmas morning to going weeks on end without a hot meal, days without a shower, to those who gave their lives in the defense of freedom. They're not sad things, or things that were seriously regrettable, but they aren't Happy things either.

What I'm getting at is this - I'd love to hear some suggestions from you highly intelligent readers of mine. (Which begs the question - why would highly intelligent people bother with my ramblings???) What word could we promote that would adequately portray the meaning that we try to convey when we say "Happy Veterans Day", but in a slightly more somber way? A statement of respect without the feeling of something giddy... A way to recognize the sacrifices that someone made while at the same time letting that person know that you really do understand some of what they went through... If anyone can do it, I know you all can. :)

Last, I totally got duped by my son yesterday. Obviously I'm a Vet, and I'm damn proud of my service in the Marines. But, I don't like the spotlight. I feel uncomfortable when people make a fuss over me, and boy did I get it yesterday... My boy asked me last week if I'd go to the Veterans Day assembly at his school (he's a sophomore in HS). So I asked him what was up with it. He basically shined me on, saying that it was nothing more than a chance for me to hang out with him for a bit. Yeah, I was all over that - now that he's got his drivers' licence I don't get NEARLY enough Dad time... But he got me, the lil bastid. I showed up at the school & almost immediately got abducted by the man who turned out the be the Emcee of the assembly. He insisted that I follow him to a meeting room that was designated for all of the Veterans. I pleaded with him that I wasn't there for that, I was just there to hang with my son. He wasn't hearing any of it, literally grabbing me by the elbow & dragging me (kicking & screaming, just like mom used to) back to this "other room" where there were probably 75 - 100 people ranging from WW2 to Iraq / Afghanistan. So I sent an e-mail to my boy off of my blackberry - something about paybacks... :) It was cool (while we were in the room) - I really enjoy talking to the old timers. But pretty soon they started getting us organized - they called up all of the Army Vets 1st & off they went. Navy was next. Then (drumroll) my beloved Corps. So, reluctantly (yes, part of me wanted to slink out the exit door that was on the other side of the room), I got in line. We proceeded to follow the Marine Corps flag out the door, down the hall, down 4 steps, left turn through the double door & into the gym. OMG, I can't remember if I've ever felt as much like a fish out of water as I did right then. My son's school has about 5,000 students & I'm convinced that every one of them was in the bleachers. Plus the teachers. Plus the janitors. Probably a few babysitters, next door neighbors and maybe a grocery store checker or 3. The band was playing, the Emcee was announcing, "The United States Marine Corps!!!" and the kids went apeshit. I was mortified.

After the initial shock of being buffaloed into being a "guest of honor" it was an absolutely awesome ceremony. A junior sung the National Anthem & it was literally probably the best rendition I've ever heard. The guest speakers were great, the band was good, the students were completely jacked up, the dance team was dressed in tights and they were...

...way too young for me. :)

Anyway, it was cool and in the end I was honored that my boy wanted his old man to parade out in front of all of his peers. Maybe I'm not so embarrasing after all... ;)

From the halls of Montezuma...

Tomorrow marks the 234th birthday of my beloved United States Marine Corps and I'd like to say Happy Birthday to all of my fellow Devil Dogs across the globe.

On November 10, 1775, the Marine Corps was founded over a handshake & a beer in a bar named Tun Tavern, in Philadelphia, PA. The bar is long since gone, but there's a memorial at the site that I can remember visiting as a teenager.

I won't bother boring you all to sleep with a long-ass history lesson so I'll just close this up by saying that joining the Marines was the best thing I had done in life at the time, and the 2nd best thing that I've ever done now. I cherish the memory of my time in the Corps & regularly regret the fact that I'm not still serving. If you know anyone who is (or is formerly) in the Marines, please reach out to them to give them a Birthday greeting. Sounds stupid to y'all civilians, but we take that shit pretty seriously. If you don't know anyone who's serving, just make a silent toast sometime tomorrow evening to those who have passed away while wearing the Eagle, Globe & Anchor on their uniform.

Semper Fi, brothers & sisters!!!

"Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don't have that problem."

Ronald Reagan, President of the United States; 1985

Nobody likes a quitter...

I think I'm to the point where I can say it.

I'm an EX-smoker.

Today is my Day 9 without a cigarette. Last Monday, October 26th, I tossed 2/3 of a pack of cigarettes into the fireplace (which was currently an INFERNO) and I haven't taken (not even) a puff since. I miss smoking. But I feel somewhat liberated. I don't have to remember my smokes every time I go out for lunch. But I miss that. I don't have to bundle up & run outside at 4:46 in the morning to have my morning smoke in the rain. I somehow miss that, too. I don't have to go buy a pack of gum because the stench of smoke & coffee & smoke & Pepsi & smoke has finally disgusted me to the point of brushing my teeth with the toothbrush that I have stashed in my desk. But I kinda miss that too. I learned it before, but I'm learning it again now. Quitting smoking is like having your best friend call you & tell you that he's moving to the Moon, TODAY. I miss it. I miss it bad. But it's time for me to let that best friend go bye-bye, and after 9 days I feel comfortable telling all of my blog friends that I have let that bro go. Bro - PLEASE stay the fuck away from me forever. :)

Sorry gang - it's been 2 weeks since I typed anything here. I don't have a reason why, and I won't post the sobby, "I'm a bad blogger..." post anymore. I just haven't done it. I've been kinda busy, but I could have made time to post. I've read most of your blogs, and commented on most of them as well, but just haven't done anything with my own. I think I'm coming up to a bit of a deep point in my own life. A crossroads. A point where I have to look at myself in the mirror (no, really LOOK AT MYSELF IN THE FUCKING MIRROR) & decide just what road SoLow needs to travel into the future. I've got a lot of shit traveling east & west between my left ear & my right. Potentially life changing stuff. Part of the reason why I quit smoking at the drop of a hat. I didn't intend on this post heading into the deep, dark depths of SoLow but it feels like it's going there so I should either sign off with a hearty, "Over & Out" or I should go deep.

I'm going to sign off.

Don't worry gang - I know there's a bit of a dark feel to this, but it's not that big of a deal. I've been through way too much already to hook up a garden hose to my exhaust pipe & call it quits in the garage. Bottom line is that my lifestyle is catching up with me & I need to decide if I want to continue living the hardcore lifestyle for the next 3.6 years (until it literally kills me) or if I want to settle down a bit and live to know my grandchildren. Honestly, the way I've lived and what I've lived through over the past 38 years I still do think I'm bulletproof. Somebody is trying to tell me that I'm not.

In closing, may US Army Major Nidal Malik Hasan be warmly welcomed into Hell by Satan himself, accompanied by exactly ZERO virgins. I wish you had pulled those pistols out on one of my bases, motherfucker. Needless to say, it wouldn't have taken a civilian to pump you full of lead in that case.

SoLow, Over and Out.

TGIF and a random thought

It's been a pretty good week. I flew home from a business trip that seemed like WAY more than the 8 days that it was, witnessed my son pass his drivers' license test on the 1st try (and it was so cool having HIM come pick ME up to go to birthday dinner), Phillies clinched the NL pennant, same son as above caught 3 passes in a big football win (the 1st game that I've seen in about 4 weeks) & then the Yankees lose. Last but not least, I took the rest of the week off since I traveled & worked through last weekend. Its been nice to just laze around, run leisurely errands & get a few things done at the house. If I could just get the damn rain to stop it'd be absolutely perfect.


I'm trying to get in the habit of walking my dog. A) Because it's good for me. And B) Because it'd be good for him as well. But when I look outside & see the rain coming down at a 45 degree angle it's kinda tough to scrounge up the motivation to whistle for him & grab the leash off of the coat rack. Anyway, we spent a pretty cool hour at the dog park yesterday. He gets so excited that he drools - and I mean that he DROOLS. It's funny, actually, in a really gross way. These dog parks are so cool. Really, it's so good for the dogs to be able to socialize and I always seem to meet cool people. Boog loves being off of his leash and he's normally pretty good about staying close. Only problem with it is that he seems to NOT mind being humped by other pups. I don't get it - yesterday he got humped by a dog 1/2 his size. I know it's more of a social dominance thing than a sexual thing, but really - Boog, stick up for yourself!!!!


I didn't have a specific topic for today, so I went to MSN and found this. I can't believe I never bitched about stupid bicyclists here before, or maybe I have and I just don't remember it. If you ask me, it's a huge problem in Portland and probably many other places in the country. There are "Share the Road" signs and bumper stickers everywhere, indicating that drivers have an obligation of some kind to allow bicycles to go wherever they please. We do admittedly have a mix here - I'd guess that 20% of the bike riders on the road here do it the way it should be done. They ride FAST. They check behind them before coming out into traffic. They signal their turns. Etc, etc. The other 80% are the ones that I'm bitching about here. They think they have a right to ride in the middle of the automobile lane. And they're not even close to the speed limit. They roll through stop signs without even slowing down. And they actually get pissed off if they think you got too close to them while passing their dumb asses. I made a guy squeak a few weeks ago. I like to fuck with the dumb ones... He was crossing the street diagonally, coming towards me in the generally opposite direction. He was in no hurry to get all the way across in spite of the fact that me (on my bike, in the right lane) and a car in the left lane were coming towards him. So as I got a bit closer, I downshifted (to increase the noise) and swerved to the right, directly at him. Of course I swerved back to the left to avoid actual contact but I didn't miss him by any more than 8", doing about 40 mph and pumping out 100+ db worth of Harley exhaust pipes. He shrieked. Or squealed. Or hissed. I don't know what it was, but it sure as hell sounded like a 47-year old woman who just saw a mouse run out of her kitchen cabinet. LMAO!!! Hopefully he's more careful next time...

I guess that's it for today, people! Thanks for continuing to come back every now and then, especially since it's not all that often that you'll find a new post. Hope everyone has a great Friday, and an even better weekend!

GO PHILS!!!!

Nightmare on Sunnyside Blvd...

I'm not a "dreamer", so to speak. It's pretty rare that I remember anything that I dream about during actual sleep - maybe during a catnap I'll wake up knowing what I was thinking about, but other than that not so much. This morning was different, though - I actually woke up in the middle of a virtual nightmare. Anyone ever see the movie Van Helsing? Can't tell you the last time I watched it, but I practically lived it in my sleep about 2 hours ago...

I know I was in Oregon, but I don't know exactly where. I was on my bike with 2 other people (they were on their bikes) and I'm pretty sure we were heading out for a beer. It must have been cold, cause I had my chaps on. (I don't wear riding gear for protection, only for warmth or to stay dry. I know, I know, that'll open up another can of worms.) I parked my bike, walked up on the covered deck of wherever I was going into and walked right into an introduction session between what looked like a 20-something year old man named Sam and a teenager (not like 13, more like 18 - 19) named Sylvan (or Sylva or something like that). It seemed tense, I don't know how else to describe it - like there was already some bad blood between the 2. For some reason Sam asked Sylvan how old he was - Sylvan answered that he was 666 years old. That's when all hell broke loose. Sam transformed (like a werewolf) into a rabid man with long, sweat soaked hair and a trenchcoat. Sylvan's eyes glowed as red as the setting sun. They fought while I watched, for some reason feeling completely helpless. The fight continued for what seemed like hours - I felt like I was in danger for some reason, but nothing really happened to me. And I didn't do anything, which is probably why I felt the danger. (Normally you don't really worry about what could happen when you're actually engaged in the heat of battle. - at least I don't. You just look back afterwards & wonder how you made it out unscathed.) Anyway, the fight just ended - I either don't know why or I can't remember it.

Then, for some reason, a family friend of mine & her son appeared. (Her son basically grew up with my older son - I was Uncle Dave, and she was Aunt "T". Real life people.) This is where it got really strange... Her son, "D" was ushered into the woods to actually meet Sylvan - I freaked out and ran into the woods after them, yelling & screaming about how stupid that was. "T" stopped me, saying that she knew what she was doing by letting "D" go in. (Again, I got that crazy feeling of helplessness that's foreign to me.) I could see "D" face to face with Sylvan - like they were talking. Just minutes later, "D" comes out of the woods & Sylvan disappeared - it was done (but not quite). All of a sudden it all made sense. It's not like anyone actually explained anything to me, for some reason I just knew. Sylvan was a demonic creature who, for some reason had been cursed to walk the earth some 666 years ago. Sam was sent by a higher power because of Sylvan's 666 birthday - it was like it was supposed to be some sort of apocalypse. (Next part is not true in real life, but was in my dream.) When "D" was 7 or 8 years old, "T" had a baby boy who died while he was still in his crib. Baby boy was named Damien (which IRL was actually going to be "D's" name until "T" realized the reference to the devil). Somehow, "T" & "D" had held Sylvan responsible for Damien's death and "D" had gone into the woods to offer his forgiveness, which then somehow released the curse and allowed Sylvan to head off to the pits of hell.

At this point, I suppose I figured I'd better try a different bar to get my beer (ya think???) so I headed back to my bike (which was now mysteriously parked on the side of a road, with a cliff going up on the other side). I pulled my key out of my pocket & went to put it in the ignition when a set of eyes appeared about 15' up the cliff. Green eyes - looked somewhat like a cat. This thing comes bounding down the cliff, Gollum-like. (Sorry if you haven't seen Lord of the Rings, but I don't know how else to describe its movements.) It wasn't huge, probably the size of a 25 pound dog. It was like this thing was having a seizure, snarling & growling, eyes on fire - not coming directly at me, but staying close enough that I knew if I turned my back it'd sink it's teeth in. So I started hurrying to try to turn the key in my ignition, in the hope that I could just jump on my bike & take off. Of course, it was stuck - turned over 1 click, but wouldn't turn the 2nd that's needed to actually fire up the engine. This thing closed in, but I could tell it was afraid to get too close. I started kicking my right foot at it, feeling at least a little thankful that I had my chaps on for protection. I'm using my left hand to keep trying to turn the key, and my right foot to try to keep this creature at bay. Neither was actually happening. But I kept trying. I landed one feeble kick - not enough to chase it off, but enough that it retreated a bit. It retreated enough for me to turn my side to it, use my right hand & turn that 2nd click of the ignition. Knowing that this beast was closing in, I flipped on the secondary ignition switch on the handlebar and threw my right leg over the bike, landing in the seat. I turned to look and it was after me, on the left side this time. I kicked at it again, left footed this time. Once, twice, thr...

I woke up.

And go figure, in the initial second of being awake I realized I was in the process of kicking the blankets off of me. With my left foot.

Let me tell you, people - this is not just a bored SoLow looking for something to write about at work (I'm not even at work yet). I really had this dream - didn't remember all of the details until I started typing it. Then it all started coming back... What a trip.

I wonder what a dream analysis of that would reveal?????? I probably don't wanna know... LOL

I (don't) Love NY, but I do love the food

I'm having a tough time getting through a Saturday work day. I've got my own, short punchlist of things to do but the main reason I'm here is to manage the facility while the workers do their thing. And "their thing" just happens to be in the exact area that I need to be in order to complete what's left of my chores... So I've spent the past lil bit o time blog surfing - going through the blogrolls of the few regular readers I have to see if anyone else catches my eye. Not that it would matter - geez, I really don't even give y'all enough attention normally. Adding to my list would only add to the number of people I neglect. :) However, if any of you know of a blog that's what you'd consider a MUST READ, please let me know & I'll check 'em out.

One thing I have to say about New York is that there's good food everywhere, even though it's probably not good for my gut. :) I went to a deli this morning to get bagels & cream cheese for the crew & they were just awesome. I had chicken parmigiana for dinner last night - OMG, it was unbelievable. After growing up in Philly & then eventually moving to Portland I knew the food didn't compare, but spending some time back here on the east coast has made it that much more obvious how lame Pizza Hut & Subway are compared to a true pizzeria or Italian deli. One thing Portland has on the rest of the world is high quality beer, that's a fact. But that's about it when you're talking about consumables...

I've noticed that most bloggers take the weekends off - I wonder why? I imagine most are busy with family, or sports, or chores & whatnot but I think it's strangely ironic that most of us probably post more blog content from work than we do from home. I used to be that way, til I got busted at work, and subsequently got a computer at home. Now, I believe, this is the 1st post I've done on my laptop (and AT work) since then. But I suppose that's what working Saturdays (on the wrong side of the country) are good for.

Well I guess I'd better go for now - I'll prolly go back to surfing whatever blogs I may have missed this morning, at least for the remainder of the time that the crew is at lunch. Hope you all have a good weekend! Since I'll be back at work tomorrow, chances are I'll post again...

SoLow - over & out.

Phantastic Phils

Phillies take game 1 in LA!!!

I guess I never realized that people could be passionate about baseball. I love the game, I really do. I played it throughout my entire childhood (minus my Junior year of HS, when I was obsessively working out for my Senior football season). Played softball in the Marines. Played softball again when I returned to civilian life, until my oldest son was of age to start playing, and then I started coaching. I coached 11 seasons all together - my oldest quit playing after 2, then I led my youngest through his entire little league career. I'm one of those people who can actually WATCH baseball on TV and enjoy it. So it's probably obvious that I'm a fan of the game. But, until last night, I never thought about actually being passionate about it to the point where you dislike another team.

I'm in New York now and I found a new tavern last night. (Sidenote - it's the 1st bar I've found here that I think I'll actually go back to. In a 2-hour time period, 3 different people bought me beers, one of which was the owner of the joint. Obviously I'd never met those people before. Just a friendly, "Hello" and a few minutes of conversation and the guys seemed to like this new dude from Arrr-eee-gahhhhn. I had to teach them how to pronounce the name of my beautiful state. LOL) Anyway, I digressed. Talking to one of the bartenders, I was gently bitchin about him having CNN on the TV in front of me. He replied that there was nothing else on. So I reminded him that ESPN was always on. He said, "Yeah, but nothing's going on tonight." I said, "My Phillies are going to be on." And he actually found it in himself to say, "F'ing Phillies. Only reason I'd watch that sh*t would be to root against those sorry bast-ids."

Huh?

I can understand feeling that way about football - it's a much more emotionally charged game. But hating another baseball team??? I don't get it... I suppose that's just New York for you though...

Final thought - I guess I'm spoiled by (more often than not) being on the west coast. It's sure nice to come home from work & turn on the big game at 5:00 in the evening. Last nights' game didn't start til 8:00, local time in NY. Needless to say, I only made it through the 6th inning & had to run for the laptop this morning (naked) as soon as I jumped out of bed to check on the final score. Hopefully I'll be home to watch the Phils in the World Series. ;)