Dig Deep

It's been a while. I'm lazy. That's a lie. We've been cranking away at work and I've kept busy on the side so it's been non-stop which has its perks but is mostly bad for my brain. Makes it mush. But like any storm, it has moved on and calmer seas prevail which allows me to devote a little free time to such exploits as... oh... making fun of old photos.

Brad and Leah – Breah – came over for an impromptu pot o' chili some weeks ago and Leah had come across some pics of days gone by and wanted to share. The pictures are nice to look at just as they are if simply to illustrate how we've changed over the years. But to me, they tell a thousand stories.

For instance, the flag that Brad is holding and how it came into our possession revolves around picking up a friend in Cleveland, forgetting to shut the door of the UHaul trailer we were towing until a frenzied group in an SUV honked at us until we pulled over and realized our mistake. While pulled over, I found that very flag on the side of the road and stuck it in the latch of the trailer bound for Boston. It was just a couple of weeks after 9/11 and we got more than a couple of honks and "thumbs-ups" from fellow travelers on I-90.

And those outfits? It was Halloween, of course, so we had made a trip to the thrift store that morning and picked up whatever we could find. I have no idea what Brad and Elliott (blue coat) are supposed to be... other than themselves, but I do know I was Dean Witter and we all got really drunk at Elliott's co-worker's apartment in Back Bay. I also know that I wanted to fight Brad over boneless spare ribs from Nan Ling. Yes, I was that drunk and yes, they were that good.

That couch in the very same picture. It's got a pullout mattress in it. We found it on the way back from the grocery store. Hauled it several blocks and up three flights of stairs. My back has never been the same. And what were we honestly doing drinking Red Dog beer? Do they even make that stuff anymore.

The top photo was from our first rented house in Cincinnati on Stratford Avenue. That's Bradley and Nate Williams. I'm not really even sure why this picture was taken, but I grew up with that couch they're sitting on. It belonged to my grandparents, then to my aunt, then to me. It was terribly uncomfortable but was a journeyman and served us well. Everyone else still makes fun of it and its wire frame that jabbed you if you sat on it wrong, but I see that picture and then, inevitably, see so much more.

Oh, those stories could go on and on and in some ways, they still do.

200

Whoa! That's a lot of life lived in dem dere squares (I'm only showing 101-200 as 200 squares wouldn't fit into the grid well and the images would be even more indistinguishable). This is actually my 201st post but who's really counting? Well, I am.

I won't go on about what's ahead and what's behind. I can't see into the future and who has time for regrets? I'll just keep doing what I've been doing. Sound fair? Good.

I have made a small, yet deliberate, decision to concentrate some efforts on specific locales for the time being. Whether I follow through with it is yet to be determined.

Moon Over GABP

Got the opportunity to hit up a Reds game last Tuesday night. We've been to a few over the course of the year. Erica had a prior commitment so it ended up being me, my sister, my friend, Steve and his friend, Mike. For as many times as I've been to The Thirty Year Mistake GABP over the years, I've only sat in a handful of locales... none of which were in the Moon Deck. I don't think I'll be sitting anywhere else from here on out... unless they're free. Proof is in the picture. This was the picture I would paint listening to the Reds on 700 WLW in our garage on summer nights. Even then they would leave everyone on base.

While in those pretty little seats, Scott Rolen hit a bloop single that looked headed for shallow right center until my large noggin's gravity nearly pulled it out of the park and into my awaiting hands. Ended up going off the wall for a double. They need me in those seats. We also saw Harang pitch and somehow only give up one earned run. Let's just say we saw Labor Day's beating coming.

Speaking of last Tuesday... what a difference a week makes. Can we beat a team that has a record over .500? Does anyone really want to win the NL Central?

Norris 2K+10

The annual houseboat (the term is used loosely anymore) has once again come and gone. This has always been a particularly hard trip to come home from. It often marks the end of summer get-togethers and lazy days spent in the sun with friends. You realize it might be another year before you see some of this group which only makes you miss the ones that couldn't make it even more. It's unfortunate, but such is life.

There were three couples, a brother and two babies that rounded out the group. Erica and I never had a problem with sleeping in, but apparently others weren't as fortunate. I guess six-month-olds don't sleep past 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning. They don't drive boats well either. Slouches. Get a job!

I will tell you one thing that was confirmed while taking this trip... vacations are harder than all hell to take. It. Was. Impossible. To get out of here Friday which, in turn, made us hit the stupidest traffic one might hope to miss. I-75 is a hole. I've said it before and I mean it... they should start over. It's not working. It's the perfect example of why there needs to be transportation reform. You can add additional lanes all you want, but until you take the human factor out of it, there will still be X number of lanes to the right filled haphazardly with cars and trucks going roughly the same speed and a left lane with a line of X number of cars lined up behind someone trying to pass the mass of floating debris that makes up all the lanes to the right. It's impossibly confounding to me how we stubbornly trudge ahead as if this is our future.

Whew.

Anyway... the trip was great. There's nothing quite like flying around a lake on a boat, laying your head back and feeling the warm sun on your wind-whipped face.