Beasty Shrub

Taking advantage of my David-esque physique my parents put me to work today. They miss me so much I couldn't help but visit them during this extended weekend we have.

There were two major things they wanted done. First was the lawn, it needed mowing after only three days of growth. When I was little I used to have to cut the grass every other day for them. Not because they were really particular about the grass but because it needed it. So today, after 3 days growth, it was really tall and the mower got clogged up a few times. But that was fine. The only part I didn't like was the blisters. They got this new Honda mower a while back and I've never liked how the self-propelled system on it works. I have to hold down two bars, that sandwich a third. So there's a lot of bar there to hold onto and it forms blisters around my thumbs.

But it was the second task that I dreaded and made me not want to come home. That beast of a bush. Dad said it wouldn't be bad because he got a new electric hedger that had a longer blade on it than our old one. All I noticed was that it was much heavier to wield. The sides of the bush are not that bad, but the top is dreadful because the bush is very thick. You have to really lean into the bush on a ladder to get at it, and then sort of use the electric hedger like a sword with one hand. In the past with the little guy it wasn't so bad because it was light. I could lean in further and simply extend myself. But this new one wanted to take me right with it as I threw it around.

What makes the bush so unbearable is the pollen, which gets everywhere. It gets in your eyes, all over your clothes and skin and in your nose and throat. You can't rub your eyes because your hands are covered with pollen, so you just cry. The pollen will then become a soupy mess which starts coming out the corner of your eyes like the eye wax you wake up to in the morning. The pollen on your skin burns when it mixes with your sweat, the pollen in your throat makes you cough, and the pollen in your nose makes you sneeze. All while your trying to handle a heavy finger chopping machine on a wobbly ladder.

Here is a before and after of the bush. It's not the best work but it's still a lot better and if Dad wants to do a touch up he is more than welcome to.


And here is Dad.

Old Fashioned Hair Trimmer

Being the burliest of man, I started shaving at age 4. And ever since then I've been using an electric razor. Yes I can shave perfectly fine with a blade and some lather, but it takes awhile and I've got things to do. The electric razor I've been using was the one my Dad used to use when he was younger. I guess a many years ago he decided he didn't like the electric razor and switched to a manual razor. The electric razor is ancient and never cut all that close to the face. It's certainly close enough to get the job done, but if you want baby smooth this is not the tool for you. It sounds like a lawn mower, doesn't use batteries, and is huge.

The only issue I have with it is that every so many months it breaks down. When this happens I used to take it to the local old fashioned drug store where once a month an old man would come into town and fix electric shavers. But now that I've moved away it is a hassle to get it to my Mom so she can take it in for me and then have her get it back to me.

Recently the electric shaver broke on me again. I had tried to fix it in the past to no avail but I wanted to try again. It was dissapointing that I could not fix it being an electrical engineer and this was a device from the 70s or so. It's not like it has circuit chips or anything like that.

So I tried once more. It comes apart easily enough since it's put together with regular screws. After a quick inspection I thought that one of the capacitors may have blown out because it was all black. At this point I went to Radio Shack to get a multi-meter, soldering iron, solder, and a couple capacitors. Yes I realize I have my masters and did not prior to this occasion own a multi-meter or soldering iron, leave me alone. Anyway I went there looked around for a bit and then left to get on the internet to research how to read the values off capacitors. A half hour later I returned and made my purchases. A half hour later I returned again because my multi-meter didn't come with batteries and it used a special weird one.

Finally I was ready. In a jiffy I removed the faulty capacitor, and then had a close look at it. Wetting my fingers I rolled it around a bit, and found that all the black came off. It looked good as new. So I realized the capacitor was not my problem. Which meant I didn't really need to get a soldering iron after all, but it was fun de-soldering it and then re-soldering it back in place on the electric razor.

At this point I decided to have a look at the switch. My original thought was that I had broken the switch but I couldn't figure out anyway to get at it. It is in a case that seemed sealed shut. But this time, after working my finger nails out I was able to pry off what I found to be the top of a case that exposed my switch. And sure enough there was a ton of hair in there. I have no idea how all that hair got in there considering how sealed shut everything was, but I removed the hair put everything all back together and voila the shaver started right up! I actually fixed something electrical.

Here's a picture of the taken apart shaver. Yes I was working on it in an electric skillet. You can see what the capacitor looks like in the photo although I removed the one on the other side. Also that tape was my way of re-sealing the switch because after I open up the case I couldn't get it close properly again.

Coming To America

When I went in to pick up my suit before the wedding I started talking with my tailor. After speaking on birthday parties, children and food I asked her where she is from and she said Cambodia. Then she told me her story.

She moved here in '79 with her mother and baby sister. But moving to America doesn't quite describe it. She actually fled here. From what I gathered from her, in the late seventies there was a communist uprising in Cambodia and life became very difficult. They worked hard and were given little to eat. She remembers being given two table spoons of rice (with her accent sounded more like rye) which was then added to water to make 'rice stew'. If you were to go to the market to buy a fish you were not allowed to eat it. Instead you had to give it to the cooks who would then cut it up and distribute it to everyone. So very few people bought food because you would only get to eat a very little bit of it. The communists also had killing lists. Anyone who was involved with education was killed because they didn't want people being taught anything bad about the government. And anyone who wore glasses was killed because the government felt that people who wear glasses are smart and therefore were a threat.

One night when she was sixteen her mother woke her up and said they were leaving. She asked where but her mother wouldn't tell her. She just said to get up and come with her. Being a typical sixteen year old she whined and complained about being woken in the middle of the night and being told it was time to leave but not knowing any other details. Like leaving could mean they were just leaving the house because it was flooded and they were going to another house for a night or two. She didn't realize they were fleeing the country until a little later. Only she, her Mom and baby sister went. Her other brothers, older sister and Father were left behind because they didn't want to come. They were older and her Mom had asked them if they wanted to come but they said no. She wasn't asked because her Mom was worried she would go around and tell her friends and that would make trouble. She had no time to say goodbye to any of her family.

From their house they walked to Thailand over the course of three days and two nights. They walked by night and hid during the day. If the baby started making noise the mother would try to cover her mouth or let it breast feed until she would quiet down. During their trip they met people who were running an underground railroad of sorts to get people out of the country. They told her that she could only walk where the grass was flat. If she walked anywhere else she could get blown up because of all the landmines that were planted. A good deal of the walk was in rice paddies with water up to her knees. They lived off 'rice stew'. Finally they made it to Thailand and from there here.

In the past thirty years she has gotten to see her sister once and it was at a funeral for a family member. Talking on the phone was difficult at first because the cost was like a dollar every 30 seconds. But now she can use phone cards and get something like a 15 minutes for a dollar so they talk much more frequently. And she is excited because she is going to go visit later this June for three days. But she is stressed about figuring out how to get there because she doesn't want to fly through Thailand. Back then Thailand was a safe haven, but now it's war torn and dangerous to travel through, and unfortunately most flights to Cambodia go through there.

After all this she told me she hoped she hadn't bored me with her story. I said she was nuts and that her story was better than most movies I've seen. She then said that if I'd like to watch a movie about it that 'Killing Fields' gives a pretty good representation of what it was like. She also told me that later she found her mother was on the list of people the communists were looking to kill. I did not find out if her mother and father ever reunited. As for her sister I asked why doesn't her sister move her if they miss each other so much. She said her sister is very poor with seven children. She and her husband have a rice farm but if it rains too much or too little the rice doesn't grow right and so they are poor. But she has a son who works very hard (imagine how hard he must work for one of his own people to say he works hard, it's similar to how lazy an American must be if we call him lazy), and they would like him to come here for a good education at one of the universities. But she doesn't know how to begin that process. But apparently her sister and him are trying to work with high school counselors to figure things out. Hopefully he'll get to get out from the rice farm and get his education.

Finally I asked her if she is Christian. She had praise and worship music playing in the background. She said she was raised Buddhist like everyone else in Cambodia. During her flight she prayed 'very very hard', and by the time she made it here she felt someone up above had to have helped her get through it all safe and sound. So she chose to be Christian. I liked the way she said it. She didn't name off a denomination she just said it repeatedly with great pride and a big smile in her broken English voice, "I'm Christian. I'm Christian." I told her good choice.

Going Out With A Bang

The wedding I went to this weekend was amazing. When I entered the Chapel the choir was singing. I thought if I looked up at them I would see wings coming out of their backs because humans shouldn’t sound so good. The rest of the congregation that had arrived before me was all twisted around in the pews intently watching the choir. I do not know if I have ever heard or will ever hear again anything that could match that choir.

The bride was radiant. I’ve known her for about a year and half now and never would I have thought she could have looked so stunning.

The Mass was celebrated by an 80-some year old Monsignor. He is the type of guy who seems too stubborn to get sick or frail. At 80-something he is more agile than a cat and as strong as an ox. But also being of “that generation” he has that militaristic-style about him that makes him look like no nonsense made flesh. But he couldn’t have been warmer or more humorous. All throughout Mass he was cracking jokes, and at one point I was wondering if it was his jokes that were funny or just that the fact that they were so unexpected coming from a guy like him that drew the big laughs that came with them. His homily was so beautiful that by the end I had tears running down my face. My friends of course laughed at me but one of my former professors admitted that he too had been crying during that homily.

After Mass my part in the wedding started. I was to drive Will and Jen to the reception. The reception started at 4 and Mass ended at 3:30. But after Mass they had to do all the pictures. Around 4:05 they came running out of the Chapel. At this point I thought they were going to stay around outside for more pictures, but Will gave me this look that said “Get us out of here now.” So I stowed my camera and open the doors for them. I had pulled my car around to the front of the Chapel while they were taking pictures so that we could easily and fashionably pull away.

When they got into the car they both started screaming at me, “GO GO GO! We are so late for the reception, the pictures took too long. Get us out of here! GO! GO!! GO!!!” BANG!!!!

Being overwhelmed by all the shouts and people trying to get at Will and Jen for more pictures I lost focus and smashed my car into the car behind me. In front of all their family and most of our friends. I did not know what to do and completely froze. Will and Jen changed their shouts to “Just Go, Just Go! That’s what bumpers are for! Just Go!” Still frozen the only thought I had was that these people must be looking for some sort of visual response from me showing sorrow and acknowledgement so I just hung my head. Then I decided to get out despite Will and Jen’s protests. Everyone outside screamed “That’s what bumpers are for”, so I got back in and we headed out.

I thoroughly embarrass myself at least once a week, but this took the cake. During the reception I heard all sorts of reactions and witness re-accounts of what took place. It actually reminded me of the Gospels where you have 4 versions of the same scene, and each 4 are just a little different but the key facts remain the same. Everyone saw something a little different but one fact was clear, I backed my car, carrying the newly wedded couple, into the huge blindingly white vehicle behind me, with everyone taking enough pictures to generate a flip-book movie of the whole event.

Poor language

Going to the public library after 3:00 can make for an interesting experience. After 3 school is out and many students come to the library to hang out or work on homework until their parents can come pick them up after work. Today I happened to be sitting near a small group of them. Working around nerds, the types of conversations are very different than what I tend to hear around children. Often I hear bits and pieces of conversations but usually I don't get to hear much. But today I got to sit near a few of them and I listened in.

Unfortunately it was not a pleasant experience. The amount of swearing was disappointing but I looked over it. Kids like to use their new found vocabulary, and hopefully will just grow out of it. I remember being in middle school and listening to Adam Sandler and later ICP with my friends in our basements and rooms when our parents were away. None of us really talked like that, but it was still very amusing to listen to. So I equate the swearing with kids being kids. Unfortunate, but hardly worth getting all upset about.

What did bother me was the lack of grammar. If you're going to be swearing up and down, at least do so in a correct fashion. It's one thing to sound like a sailor, it's quite another to sound like an idiot. In this particular instance, I do not think the entire group of children had been introduced to the word 'is'. Everyone would say something like, "where she at?" or "this not right." No, the words coming out of your mouth are what is not right. I can't blame the children. Someone supervises them. If not the parents, because they possibly come from broken homes, at least the teachers do. They're supposed to be educating these kids. What worries me is that they will grow up speaking this way. I can only hope they don't write that way. But come to think of it I remember being in my senior writing class and our teacher telling us when he taught at the university level he had a student who wrote ebonically.

I've always assumed kids just talk that way because they think it's cool, and that they really know proper English. But I've been told by at least one elementary school teacher that this is not the case, and that these children need special attention to break their bad habits. I've even seen books devoted to the subject of helping teachers come up with lessons that will promote good grammar skills when they have children who speak this way. It was sort of funny because the book had passages written by students on one side, and then a translation into proper English on the right.

What the Body Says

My contacts are supposed to be changed every three months. My optometrist and others say that I should write down on a calender three months in advance when it's time to change them out. I however have come up with another method that saves me the time and pen ink (these are tough times, I need to save my pennies) of having to write it down.

And that method is self-induced eye infections. No reminder is quite so attention grabbing as a visceral response from your body. If you want to quit smoking, just wait until you get lung cancer. Then you will know it's time to quit. If you don't know how much weight to lift, keep adding more weight until your back goes out. If you're not sure if the salsa is too hot, your ulcers will tell you.

There are benefits to my method. The calender method only gives me three months of contact use. Whereas my method gives me about 5 months. The only problem with my method is that in the long wrong I probably don't save much. This is because the treatment for an eye infection is ridiculous. The medicine sold in the store is around ten dollars an ounce. My inability to keep my eyes open cuts down on my productivity. And finally, ladies do not find my constantly watery red half shut eyes, and sniffling nose attractive.

Too Much Purple

This weekend I went out to one of our really old department stores here in town looking for a shirt and tie. I had never been there before but I thought it would be fun to check them out before going to the mall. This place used to be four stories with a uniform department, women's and men's department, and then a Scout department for children in the basement. After a bit of looking I decided on a shirt and tie. The problem with that shirt is that even though it's my size, there is entirely too much material. I asked if they had a more suitable cut but he said they only had the trim cut in light blue and white. Since I already have to many light blue shirts and I didn't want white I went with my shirt, violet, and made up my mind to take it to a tailor.

The sales guy recommended where I take it for alterations. So quickly I rode home picked up my pants, which I also wanted altered since I felt they really were coming up too high, and my vest which isn't part of the suit but still needed to be tightened up a bit.

Sweat shops are a terrible thing. Still it was difficult not smile when I arrived at the altering shop and found it full of clothes and being worked by two Asians, a lady and a guy. The lady told me to go into their dressing room and put everything on. When I came out she started with the shirt. She asked "Why you buy so big?" I said, "The shirt is actually my size, but this is America they make these for big people." She laughed, pointed to the guy who I think is her husband and said, "He has to shop in boy department." At this point the man who was bent over a sewing machine looked back at me, smiled and waved. I'm unsure if he speaks any English, but he seemed to know she was talking about him. I suppose shopping the children's department wouldn't be too bad, but unfortunately 'OshKosh B'gosh' doesn't have a formal department.

Next she moved onto my pants, which drew the exclamation, "You grew, you grew!" I said I hadn't it's just that the first altering made them too short. She pulled a ruler out and said I need an inch and a half. She kept repeating it to me "inch and half, inch and half", making me think I was supposed to write it down on something. And maybe I was because she certainly didn't so I hope she remembers.

The vest was uneventful. I'm a little apprehensive about the price for all of this because she didn't give me one. She just said come back Friday. The pants should be cheap but the shirt and vest are likely going to be quite a bit more. I'm hoping everything won't be more than $40, but we shall see.

Pit Crew Training

One of my Dad's co-workers had to go to Germany for a one-two week business trip. Because he was traveling with others in the company he decided to car pool over to the airport and left his car in the company parking lot. This is a fairly small company, and so the parking is small. It's not like the size of a grocery store parking lot, more like the size of a good size dentist office's parking lot. Anyway, the parking lot is adjacent to a street that I wouldn't say gets a ton of traffic, but it certainly doesn't have too many dull moments.

Just a few days ago my Dad got a call from another one of his co-workers who had gone in a bit early in the morning to get started. The guy's car was on blocks.

While impressive this is not the best I've heard. Apparently a few years ago where I live, a lady went into Radio Shack and came out to find her car on blocks. This may be a popular rumor in town, we don't know. But if there is any truth to this tale, and certainly for the case of my Dad's co-worker, we may be looking at a potential pit crew legend.

Wheels are not the only parts being taken from cars anymore. Apparently the new craze is catalytic converters. I didn't know anything about them, so I learned and now you are going to as well if you don't know. They are the big metal container that is located under the car and attached to the tail-pipe. Catalytic converters reduce the toxicity of car emissions. The reason they are being taken is because they have platinum in them which can be retrieved and then sold for high prices.

Family Time

Today my family got together in Indianapolis to celebrate Mother's Day. Based on last year's success we thought to try and have a repeat performance this year. I was happy because it saved me a long drive home, and they were happy because they get to see me, which is always a treat.

I had the idea of eating at Bucca De Beppo this year. Last year we went to a Mongolian barbecue. It was tasty and Mom had never been there before. This year I wanted to switch things a little bit. Bucca De Beppo is right in the heart of downtown Indianapolis which is sort of neat because we don't go to many large cities very often.

After a too big meal we went over the mall where I bought my suit last weekend. We watched the 3D TV at the Sony Store, and stood in shock at the sight of a $228 Hawaiian shirt at one of the designer stores. Dad had thought the shirt would be around $100. Then I took them over to Nordstrom to show them my suit and look for a tie. They very much liked my suit, and while we were looking at it they met the guy who helped me out last week. I told him I wanted to look at ties and he showed me where they were. At this point he made the mistake of trying to help me. Everything he pulled out Mom said "absolutely not", "that's gross" or some other variation. The guy started laughing because he remembered from last time me telling him how Mom and Brittany tend to point and laugh at some of my clothing choices. In fact they did it earlier that day. Apparently they felt my pant legs were too high. Maybe they shrunk in the wash or something, I thought they fit alright when I got them. But I noticed in the Sony store that in the "Thriller" music video Michael Jackson was also wearing flood waters, so if they were good enough for the "King of Pop" they ought to be alright for me.



This picture is also a good illustration of how I approach ladies when I want to ask them out.

Finally I told the salesman there were just too many cooks in the kitchen and he understood that I was telling him to let us be for awhile. We never did pick out a tie. I will just have to surprise them for the wedding.

But going back to the suit. Recall it is light grey with two buttons. While they liked it, Mom and Dad were quick to point out a famous celebrity who wore a very similar looking suit.

Twisted Up in Cable

My cable bill went up this month by 11.8%. However, I can't complain because the quality of the available programming has noticeably increased as well with the addition of new hit stations such as Jewerly TV. This really is rather ludicrous. In this area of the country a standard of living raise is at 4%. Essentially if you can't pull that off once a year, either your skill set doesn't match your profession, or your job is about to go away altogether. Maybe I should read my own posts. Anyway, my point is that this arbitrary increase in cost to my cable bill seems a bit exorbitant. If an average raise is 4%, cable companies shouldn't be increasing their bills by 11.8%.

With internet TV options like Hulu becoming more and more available it's little wonder cable companies are increasing their prices. They have to pay the networks to host their channels. And the cable companies are going pay for that by increasing my bill as more and more others continue to drop their service.

Since Monk ended, I've found nothing on that I don't mind missing. I didn't want to miss an episode of Monk, I don't care if I miss an episode of anything currently on TV.

Since I got rid of the internet I haven't missed it. Maybe once a month I think that it would be nice to have, but it's usually to look up a recipe. But I already have a recipe book named Mom. She comes for free, and I already know I like what she has to offer. When you look up a recipe online there's no telling if you're going to like what it has you create. Oh sure some of the recipes come with ratings and reviews but their is no accounting for taste. And people who like mushroom bread may be writing some of those reviews. So now maybe it's time to cancel my cable subscription as well.

Canceling cable might be harder. One summer I did go without it and didn't miss it, but at the same time I did have the internet. Now I'd be without both. I haven't decided yet but I'm fairly close to pulling out the cord. If I were to do this, not including the internet savings, I'd save almost a thousand dollars a year on the cable alone. Which would be just about enough to cover the loss I took this week on the stock market. Stupid Greece.

Bi-wheeler Acrobatics

Walking around the pond the other day, I saw off in the distance a little girl learning how to ride her bicycle without the training wheels. Two older ladies were supervising her. They had her in a grassy field, wearing a big helmet. I watched her ride for awhile in a straight line and then come to a stop. At this point she didn't know what to do so she simply fell over. It was pretty amusing. She was just riding along, came to a stop, and then didn't quite know to put out her legs. Instead she sat there with her feet on the pedals and tumbled down bike on top of her. She got up and went to one of the ladies who readjusted her helmet, while the other readjusted her handle bars that got bent from the fall. Then the new bike rider ran back to the bike to hop back on again. This was one very determined little girl.

When I learned how to ride without my training wheels, my parents took a different approach. First my Mom had nothing to do with it at all. This was a job for Dad. It was Dad's duty to teach his son how to ride properly. I never understood the timing, and tried in vain to explain this to him. It made no sense that early evening when he came up and said he needed me to get on my bike without the training wheels. As far as I was concerned, nothing was broken so nothing needed fixing. This seemed like a waste of time. There was no need to learn a new skill to replace an old skill that was serving me quite well. And his decision to choose that day seemed completely random. He could have chosen the day before, the day after, or any other day. Why he felt on that particular day I was ready I'll never know. But he did, and I obeyed and hopped up on that bike, all the while trying to explain to him that there was nothing wrong with my training wheels. A little bit of fright was probably in my protest, but I think mostly I just didn't want to be bothered right then and was looking for an excuse to get back to whatever it was I had been doing.

The grass was not an option. This was because riding in the grass leaves marks in the yard where the tires press down. That was a pivotal moment in my life. Since I was told those marks are ugly at that impressionable age, to this day I get annoyed when I see anyone riding their bike on the grass, and very annoyed if it happens to be some grass in a yard that I had just cut. Some young neighborhood children learned quickly their bikes stay off my family's lawn.

And I don't think helmets had been invented yet, because no one wore them. If you fell down you threw your hands out and took the gravel that shoved into your palms like a man, even if you were a girl. None of my friends or any of the other children in my neighborhood wore helmets. Now you rarely see anyone not wearing them. I suppose it's safer but it took me a long while to warm up to other people wearing them, and I still don't.

Dad's approach was to hold the back of the bike to steady me as I rode. I hadn't yet learned that the easiest way to balance yourself on a bike is to be moving and I pedaled very slowly. As I built up speed, Dad would let go, but still be claiming to be holding me.

After a little bit of this in the driveway, Dad took me out onto the street so we could go a longer distance. We didn't have sidewalks, but the street isn't ever very busy so it was still pretty safe. He had me ride to the end of the block to the cul-de-sac. I was doing good, but was still a little scared at riding alone without his steadying hand. See at this point in my life I still had that complete childlike trust in my parents that they would see no harm come to me. I grew up a lot that day. I kept asking if he was holding on. At one point he didn't respond and I looked back. He wasn't there! He was way off in the distance. Then, right as I turned my head forward again, BANG! One of my neighbors had a mailbox that had a long decorative swan head on it that extended outward into the street a little bit. This was the 80s and there is no accounting for the style back then. That vicious swan headbutted me and I was clobbered backwards off the bike and onto the street. I could hear my Dad laughing before I could see him. To his great disappointment he didn't have a camcorder because he could have made ten thousand dollars on 'America's Funniest Home Videos.' I was furious that he had let go, while still claiming that he had been holding on. I was so mad I got back on that bike and rode home in a fury to scream at Mom about what Dad had done. And of course he took no shame or had any remorse for what he had done. After all I did learn how to ride that bike.

Class is over

Last night was the last salsa class for the semester. As a result was had a shortened lesson but it was to make room for a cookout on the roof of the building where we have lessons.

This last class taught us a final Bachata move, which had a dip at the end. The problem is I don't know any of the Bachata songs so predicting when it's going to end so I can pull of the dip at an impressive time is all but impossible. In fact learning that move has only guaranteed my making a fool of myself if I attempt it. So I suppose this last class taught me how to look terrible in front of a crowd, but it was still fun to learn, and the rest of move, which is a wild turn, is a lot of fun to perform.

After the lesson it was time to eat and meet (hah! that rhymes) everyone we had been dancing with all semester long. To me this meal was a bit backwards. We should have had it after the first couple weeks of class to help foster new friendships. Instead we have it at the end making it a "Hi, nice to meet you, goodbye" type event. During the meal the instructors had salsa music playing in the background in case we wanted to dance, but instead we just talked. It was better than middle school though. Guys and girls weren't separated on opposite sides of the roof. We were all mingling together, but still no one was dancing.

During the conversation I talked with a guy who I thought was an undergrad but turned out to be 31 with a job for the Army Corp of Engineers. He had been coming to class with two of his girl friends who I also took for undergrads but one is around 27 and is his co-worker and the other is around 25 and is possibly a grad student, he wasn't sure. This whole time I thought I was a creepy old guy taking these lessons, and it turns out there are three students right there who are all just like me.

Now at the lesson last night one of the really pretty girls showed up. She was actually one of the two friends that guy I met had been coming to class with. I like dancing and would have been happy to dance with anyone up there, but if had to choose I wanted to dance with her, but couldn't think of a good way to approach the situation even though we were at class, with people we had payed to help us, and they had music playing. So after talking with the guy for awhile, I said 'we should be dancing, you've got two friends over there who are just sitting around chatting, let's ask them to join us', and I walked on over. Basically I made him my wing man, even though he didn't verbally agree or really follow me. I walked over, asked the two ladies if one of them would like to dance, and the really pretty one bounded up. We "danced" for about 15 minutes which was about all the time we had left, and it was a blast. While she was very pretty, which certainly heightened the enjoyment, the best part was her attitude. She didn't get frustrated that we couldn't remember the moves, she didn't seem eager to run off to her next meeting or homework assignment, she wasn't concerned about sending mixed signals which would have made the whole situation tense and more like a middle school dance, and she had a sense of humor about our complete lack of skill. Or rather my lack of skill. She was able to follow a lead, so basically I had to be the one who remembered all the moves.

That's the tricky part about salsa. If the girl can follow a lead she really doesn't need to know much. But the guy has to think of the moves, and execute them all while keeping to the beat. At these lessons we learn a ton of moves and rarely review. So keeping them all straight is very difficult, and after talking around last night I found I was not alone amongst the guys in my inability to retain much of anything. I suppose this is the need for practice. Anyway those fifteen minutes were a rare blast, and she put up with my fumblings the whole time. Actually she was impressed that I was quickly able to learn one of the moves she taught me from an earlier class that evening that I don't attend.

Classes are over now, but to my surprise I found they are going to continue throughout the summer. When the instructor asked who was going to be around for the lessons, a sizable number raised their hands. I asked the girl after we finished up if she was going to be here over the summer and keep up with lessons. She said yes, but that she wasn't going to be able to start until the middle of June.

Last night too much went right. Surely very soon things are going to balance out in an epic dose of humiliating embarrasment.

Hands Full

Today I'm going to take a break from writing and provide you with a video instead. Sorry for my talking, I was on the phone with a friend at the time. Enjoy.

Suit Up

This summer I've been invited to four weddings so far. Up to this point in my life, I've only been to three. At least one of these four weddings is likely going to be a fancy affair, which was problematic for me since I don't have a proper suit. I have suits, but they are all black, which is better for a funeral than a summertime wedding. So this weekend I went out on the hunt for a new suit.

Prior to now, all my suits were chosen by my parents. And I rarely have use for them. In fact I think my dress shoes are the same ones I had for my Confirmation back in the 8th grade. They're traditional so I see no reason to replace them. But the pants and coats have probably been updated a bit. As scrawny as I may be, I have filled out since the 8th grade.

The suit shopping process started here in town. I went to Macy's, J.C. Penny's, Banana Republic, Express, and Men's Warehouse. In Banana Republic I got some service. In Men's Warehouse I got scorn and indifference. The other places just left me alone entirely.

At the end of this Friday night I was upset. Take Macy's. They had a Ralph Lauren coat marked at $325 on sale for around $100 off. The point is the price was significantly reduced. My initial thought was that this was a great sale, getting a $325 coat for so little. Then I went to the Men's Warehouse, where they had the same coat marked at $269 on sale for again about a $100 off. To me that meant these stores were artificially jacking up the regular price in order to put the items on sale and lead you, the consumer, to think you're getting an amazing deal. I can't imagine Macy's and Men's Warehouse are buying the coat from the manufacturer for a different price, and I'm fairly positive they were the same coat and just very similar looking.

So very upset, I decided to go to Indiana, where everything is entirely too expensive and never on sale and I expect condescension and fowl looks from the staff at my wayward appearance.

In Indiana I went to a mall and went to Burberry, Brooks Brothers, J.C. Crew, Raleigh Limited, and Nordstrom. I saw a suit in Raleight that was particularly impressive, but no one in the store would come up and talk to me. I saw the workers just standing around talking to each other and going up to other customers, and they completely ignored the guy who was pulling coats off the racks and walking up and down the aisles trying to figure out what coat on the rack matched the one the mannequin was wearing. So no sale for them. After that place and my experience back home I started feeling like Julia Roberts in 'Pretty Woman'. The other stores didn't have much I was interested in.

But Nordstrom gave me help. Again I was walking around trying to figure out what I wanted, when a guy came up and asked if I need help. I said I needed a lot of help. Basically what I was looking for was a suit that wasn't black or navy blue, wouldn't go out of style in a month, and could be worn at a wedding. He showed me a light gray suit which right away I could tell blew everything I had tried on Friday out of the water. He told me the reason was because this suit had a European cut, which is more form fitting. For thinner guys like him and me, these form fitting suits fit much better on us. The American cut ones tend to look like drapes on us. And sure enough when I tried on the one I was looking at before he came to help me, which was cut in the American style, it just hung on me. But this new suit still wasn't quite right according to my helper. He had me go put on a dress shirt and fancy shoes, put on the suit, and then go meet the tailor. The tailor had a field day with me. The pants were actually pretty good, but the coat needed some work. The back had to be taken in some, to make it drape even less, and I learned my left arm is longer than my right arm, which surprised her when I told her I'm left handed. In her experience the arm we don't write with tends to be longer.

Below is a picture that I think is the suit. I went to the designer's website and found one that looked the closest to what I bought but I could be wrong. The only difference is that my pants are going to have a break at the shoe, whereas his are kept straight.

Cards

This video is the opening credits to an HBO show called "Carnivale". That inspired me to try out something like it.

A while back, I found a set of playing cards at that store with the soap The playing cards are a reprint from a deck made in the 1800s, and are called a transformation deck. A transformation deck is where all the pips, which is the collective name for the clubs, hearts, diamonds, and spades, are all incorporated into an art piece. Practically the deck is almost worthless because it takes too long to figure out what card you're holding, but the art itself is really cool so it all balances out. Anyway, I thought it would be cool to take some of the art on those cards and make my own movie. To make it play, you have to click anywhere on the image that has color. Note I've found that it sometimes nothing appears on the screen. If that happens try refreshing.