Monthly Archives: September 2013

Fall on the Horizon

Fall air just looks better.

Fall air just looks better.

The weather’s changed recently, and thank goodness for that. Three days of rain last week—relentless, plodding drops, as opposed to Florida’s usual, mercurial storms—and then, almost imperceptibly, the air became just a little nicer. Like, all summer, the outside greets you like a punch to the nose. Like someone sneaking up behind you, wrapping your head and neck in a hot, wet towel and then daring you to go about your business.

Now? The air gives you a quick half-hug and then lets you be.

(I could just say, “Hey, it’s not as humid outside, yay,” but I’m imprecise like that.)

Fall is my favorite season—such as it is in Florida: a subtle shift in outlook, when the sunlight seems actually bright and crisp instead of hazy, hot oppressiveness.

I mean, it’s still too warm right now to be considered fall, but it’s nice—nice for riding my bike around the island, reading on the porch, strolling the beach in the usually unforgiving afternoon sun. It certainly sucked to have my leg in a cast during the god-awful summer heat, but I’m happy I can be out and about as it gets nicer.

Speaking of, the ankle healing is still a work in progress—slower than I’d anticipated (my goodness I’d forgotten what a pain-in-the-ass lower-body injuries are), but it’s allowing for a steady increase in activity, which the rest of my body appreciates.

The bad news is, I had to bow out of our October hockey tournament, which left the team with not enough skaters, so now nobody gets to play.

The good news is, I’m hosting a gathering that weekend instead—partly by request (and yes, it’s really cool when people request that you throw a party) and partly in appreciation of last year’s movers (and celebration that their feat of moving doesn’t have to be recreated just yet). So far, the guest list is stacking up admirably, which is a miracle of modern schedules (helps that the hockey players had the weekend blocked off already).

And it shall be called Bananatoberfest. (Awkward, but evocative.) (Holy god with the parentheses.)

In fact, the guest list is looking so good that there might be some logistical issues in my tiny apartment—which is a cool problem to have, believe you me. Besides, if the weather is nice enough, we can open the doors and let folks spill out onto the porch and lawn. And the fall weather will be another thing to celebrate.

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Zen and the Art of Not Fucking It Up

An uncharacteristically smooth and uneventful week for my humours—partly the reason I haven’t been able to generate a blog. When everything seems pretty well stabilized, you don’t want to go hyper-focusing on one thing and throwing everything off balance.

Basically, the less involved my conscious brain is, the better. Don’t want to go waking that shit up.

(Pretty much the opposite of the times when I’m bogged down in something and try to haul myself out by blogging about a different topic entirely. Or other times, when I figure if I’m that deep already, might as well just keep digging.)

In fact, I was just talking with McD about mental corrective measures yesterday—how “Arguing With Assholes in my Head” has become a sort of consciousness shock-collar for me, something that pops into my head when I find myself mentally playing out an argument that has little to no basis in reality. All of a sudden, Tom Lehr’s silly, soaring melody pops in, with those words—something so irreverent and fun and accurate.

It’s worked pretty well, actually. Like smacking a dog on the nose every time it starts to go for the dinner table. Would be fun to think that my brain is finally making progress in its obedience training.

Do I sound schizophrenic here? Eh, at least we’re getting along.

Among this week’s pleasant-but-not-disruptively-so occurrences:

Fantasy football win. Damn near lost by .02 points (which probably would’ve been enough to throw this week off-kilter from the get-go), but pulled it out thanks to a single-point post-interception tackle by Lance Moore. So at least he’s good for something.

Long-procrastinated work assignments completed. Should’ve been done a month ago, which makes them even more stressful—what started out as so simple I didn’t have to worry about them turned into seemingly impossible tasks (because why couldn’t I get them done?). The upside: Way more relief than was really warranted.

The beautiful combination of wide sidewalks, a bicycle, and Audible. Tina Fey is going to be solely responsible for getting me back into shape.

Regular thunderstorms.

Wine and coworkers in a bayfront back yard. Boss-hosted party with homemade Indian food and odd (and only occasionally off-putting) writers and editors.

Another team trivia night to look forward to. Team Aiming for Third is probably going to need another name. And more correct answers.

Progress on my puzzle. (Hey, point is: It’s the little things.)

A calm, obligation-free Friday. A spontaneous lunch outing with McD, a triple-grande mocha, a blog in the books, and a beautiful expanse of unfettered, football-filled weekend to gaze out upon.

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What I Did on My Summer Vacation


San Diego transportation, in style.

I don’t mean to brag, but I just got an 18-pack of Bud Light for $13.69 and BOGO parmesan cheese—I feel a sense of accomplishment. (Also, on Thursday I finished my book just in time for PTI—talk about vacation, right?)

Oh, yeah, and I got my cast off yesterday. (Woooooooo…ew, my body is vile.)

But the biggest accomplishments of this vacation—indeed, the whole point of it—centered on my trip to San Diego. Here are some of the things I did:

  • Sat next to a guy who was even more freaked out about the choppy-droppy flight than I was. (Seriously, he was shaking and twitching.)
  • Negotiated a two-minute layover in ATL. On crutches.
  • Learned  how to use a knee scooter like a skilled, responsible pedestrian.
  • …and then rode it bicycle-style down a hill before Thing 2 pushed me across the street.
Wore a basket.

Wore a basket.

  • Diagnosed the difference between a heat wave in Florida and one in SD. (AC is, apparently, optional in SoCal.)
  • Bought additional shorts and tank tops at Target.
  • Shopped for sugar skulls and socks and shot glasses in Seaport Village, Spanish Art Village, Hillcrest and Ocean Beach.
  • Saw sandcastles!

Took awesome pictures.

  • Slept with the door open.
  • Did my fantasy football draft in a dark, cool bar at 4 p.m. (Verdict so far? Fuck yeah Wes Welker.)
  • Witnessed a plethora of bananas.
  • Bonded with Thing 2’s friends over football, beer and Intervention.
  • Caught up on My Drunk Kitchen.
Hell yeah dancing bananas.

Hell yeah dancing bananas.

  • Got coffee at five different coffee shops and drinks at 10 different bars in six days.
  • Ate burgers, carbonara, pizza, pigs in blankets, homemade salsa and five different kinds of tacos.
  • Played “Boy Named Sue,” “Doin’ It” and “Brave” with a single jukebox dollar.
  • Danced in a stranger’s apartment.
Wore a pig.

Wore a pig.

    • Skyped with Thing 1 in Raleigh. (With special guest appearance by Captain Slack!)
    • Spent an afternoon/evening brewery-hopping for three different San Diego samplers and some home brew nightcaps.

And now? At long last, wrote a blog.

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