Thanksgiving 2014

Lists and bullet points are a cop out, in my opinion. They are simple to make and take just as little thought into creating them. Several times in the past I've literally fallen asleep in my chair while the speaker drones on playing catch phrase bingo. Perhaps that is why I try to avoid anything resembling corporate meetings. Being surrounded by so much stupidity makes me feel it should be treated like an infectious disease.

But really, what am I thankful for?
First off, I'm alive. That's always a plus in my book.
My family. A loving wife of 23 years. My children, all healthy and growing. Friends who grow in value and esteem with  each year.

There are other things I'm grateful for that most people don't like to acknowledge. 
Getting beaten up and bullied in school made me appreciate the feelings of others. Experiencing the taunts and jeers of my classmates showed me cruelty, but it also taught me how to be kind to others. From them I learned empathy.
If I were to meet an ex-girlfriend on the street, I'm pretty certain I'd thank them. If the relationship hadn't turned out the way it did, I wouldn't have met my wife and kids. We have to swallow the bitter pill of past failed romances before getting to the good stuff.
Right now I'm thankful for my barrel grill, believe it or not. This half rusty contraption has been with the family for about 5 years. It has taught me a lot about outdoor cooking, the science behind convection, indirect heat and temperature. My old science teachers would smile and shake their heads. Seems I learned something from them after all. Yeah, we grill our turkey. I have to babysit and tend the coals nearly every other minute, but the results are worth it.
There are many things to be thankful for this year. I met some famous and admirable people this year. Of course, my definition of famous and admirable is different than yours. The Kardashian family? Not famous or admirable in my book. Not even noteworthy in my opinion.  
People that I see chasing their dreams? That puts them at the top of the list. 

  

Losing stuff

People lose things all the time. In the course of daily events, we're not even aware of the loss. Ten calories? Gone.  Facebook friends? Don't get me started...
For instance, I lose pens all the time. No biggie there, a pen will turn up when I need one. I make sure there's an extra one laying around in a pocket or desk drawer. Recently, I've put a concerted effort into cleaning the house. With the girls home from school this week, I asked them to take care of their chores and do some house cleaning. This is good, right? Teach them to take pride in their surroundings. Enjoy the comfort of walking across a clean swept floor.
Then the most embarrassing thing happened: 
I lost my glasses.
My youngest and I are making time to sit down and read together. This may seem a bit odd, but my eyes strain when I wear my glasses for reading. For instance, I can see the computer screen nice and clear right now. Reading a book by comparison is effortless when I have my glasses off.
Shortly after reading Harry Potter to my daughter, I set the glasses down, and now I can't find them. Tearing the house apart and triple checking all my usual drop-off points has failed to shake them loose.
My wife drove me to work, bless her heart. I managed to get through the entire day with only one person noticing. My job doesn't require me to see things far off- or aim, for that matter. Muddling through the day, I wondered would an optometrist visit be in my future? Truth be told, I wasn't that happy with my current pair of glasses. Last visit to the eye doc, I didn't spring for the auto polarization. The sun can be brutal down here in Texas. More so if you're not wearing sunglasses. Perhaps my subconscious lost them on purpose so I could get the tinted shades.
My youngest is hinting that it's family game night. The wife just put a slice of pecan pie next to me, and it's good... Oh, so good.

Homeless story

The warning light shined like a beacon in the darkness and couldn't be ignored. I was low on gas. Knowing it was going to be a busy day tomorrow, I pulled into the convenience store near my apartment. Better to get the gas now, I had to be on the road early.

Winter winds blew a hint of moisture through the air. The same bitter chill that froze my breath promised snow or sleet in the next few hours. Going inside to pay, I felt the relative warmth of the store unclogging my sinuses. Handing the clerk a twenty, I absently sniffed the air, noticing a faint stale odor. The clerk cast a worried look over my shoulder. I turned, following his gaze.

In the back corner of the store stood a man... at least it resembled a man. Dressed in tattered rags, I couldn't help but notice two things: he was as far as he could get from the front of the store and still be inside. The second thing was he held a broom close to his chest, almost protectively. I turned back to the clerk, who smiled apologetically.

“I let him sweep out the store sometimes. That way he's out of the cold.” the clerk whispered as he handed me my change. I nodded understandingly.

Knowing the neighborhood like I do, I've seen him around. When I take my dog for a walk, he's on the corner waiting for a bus. At least, that's what he appears to be doing. When I go grocery shopping, he's hanging around the parking lot. He's a kid in his twenties or thirties and truth be told, a lot of people don't give him a second glance. Turning back to the clerk, I leaned over the counter slightly.

“Is he dangerous?” I asked the clerk.

The clerk leaned toward me slightly. “He's not mentally unstable, if that's what you mean. He's just had a run of bad luck. He got kicked out of his apartment a couple of months ago. He's been living outdoors, sleeping out back in that grove of trees.” the clerk said, pointing to where I knew a small thicket was behind the store. My apartment was only three blocks away. When I looked out my back porch, I could sometimes see the main street through those same trees.

I handed the change back. “Two coffees.” was all I said.

I went to the coffee machine and poured the hot drinks, then set them down on a table nearby. Looking directly at the guy in the corner, I crooked a finger, motioning him to sit down. Eyes widened in surprise, he pointed at himself. When I nodded he came over and sat down.

“My name is Ron.” I stated simply as I slid a coffee over to him. “What's your name?”

“James.” his hands held the cup tenderly, warming his fingers on the heat coming from the coffee. James said nothing. I wasn't sure what I was going to say, heck, I wasn't sure what I was doing.

James broke the silence first. “Got any change?” I shook my head. “Spent it on what's in your hand.” James sat back. A sudden mental image came across my mind. James was giving me the same look my son would give me when I'm about to give him a lecture. He was almost resigned to it, I needed to make the first move.

“I'm not going to talk to you about religion.” I started. James seemed to relax slightly as I said this. “Not going to ask you for sex.” More relief crossed his face.

“How old are you?”

“I'm 29, sir.”

Looking out at the parking lot, I noticed tiny pellets of sleet were starting to come down. “Looks like it's going to be a cold one.”

James nodded, hands still clinging to his coffee. I had the chance to really take a look at him while he was staring out the window. He hadn't eaten in a while. I could tell because his cheeks were a bit thin. I didn't think he had a shower in sometime either. James reminded me of some friends who would come back from a weekend hunting trip. Except James didn't have a ten pointed antler to show off.

He had several layers of clothes on including a red snow cap and what appeared to be a bent piece of cardboard sticking out of his tattered army surplus jacket. James looked ragged, especially with the growth of whiskers on him.

James noticed I was staring at him. “So why did you ask me over here?”

The truth was, I didn't know the answer to that myself. “Let me see if I got the facts.” I began. “You've been kicked out of your apartment and you don't have a job or family.”

James nodded. “You've been living day to day and you don't see a way out of your situation.”

“Well, I got plans see...” James began.

“But nothing solid, right?” I interrupted.

“Well it's like this...” James tried again, but I held up my hand. “Your past isn't that important. Your plans I don't need to know right now. Are you a vet?”

“Did a tour a few years back.”

I nodded. “Get to veterans services. They have programs that will help you.”

“But that waiting list is too long.” James complained.

“And how long will they be if you don't go?”

James shot me a snarling grimace, but kept quiet for a moment before coming up with an excuse. “They need to see an address in order to process me anyway.”

“So it's not your fault, right?”

“Yeah, that's right.” James agreed.

“Wrong answer, kid.”

James looked at me with a mix of frustration and impatience. “But it's not like that. My girl didn't have to kick me outdoors.”

“I'll bet she had a reason.” Silence from James. “It was probably something you did or didn't do.” More silence. James looked like he was about to get up and leave, but he knew how cold it was outside. All my instincts said to back off. “Whatever the reason, you're here now. Wanna know how to get back?” James looked up. Maybe he was feigning interest. Maybe not.

“I know you hate the cold outside. Hate the way people look at you. Can't get a job. Can't get money. Can't get food.”

“Gotta point?” James replied.

“Do you want to get back your life?”

“I ain't going back to her, if that's what you mean.” James retorted. I shook my head. “Not your old life. You're going to build a new life for yourself.”

What the heck was I saying? Part of it sounded like a presentation I would give to a company. What was I doing, giving a consultation to the homeless?

“Okay, first obstacle: you need an address to get stuff sent to.” My mind was racing barely ten steps ahead of my mouth. “There's a church that runs a homeless shelter downtown.”

“Yeah, St. Matthew's. Been there.”

“Go again, but this time speak to the person in charge.” James straightened and gave me his full attention. When I talk to large groups I can tell when I have them by when they do what James just did.

“Tell them you want to do some work, in exchange for allowing you to receive mail there. You're going to give Veterans services the shelter's address for mailing you.”

“This is bull man...” James began but I stopped him.

“Bad things have happened to you, I won't argue with that, but here's where you start making good things happen to you.” James took a sip of coffee and thought about what I just said.

“See if you can get a place to crash while you're there. If I remember right, there's a Methodist house not too far from here. They might not have a place for you to stay, but you can at least shower and get cleaned up.

“While you're waiting for Veteran's services to catch up to you, go down and apply at McDonald's or Arby's, one of the fast food places on the main strip.”

“But what am I going to eat till then?” James sounded like he wanted to put a hole in what I was telling him, but I wasn't going to give him the chance.

“You'll be doing what you're doing now. Eating at the shelter or a food bank. I won't lie, it'll be touch and go the first two weeks. Your first paycheck, you're going to buy a bike or a bus pass.” The promise of money seemed to make James's face light up. “One more thing: No beer.”

James gave me a look like I just waved used toilet paper under his nose.

“That's the problem right there!” I smiled for the first time since I started talking. “I'm going to take a guess, you like beer?”

James nodded.

“Your old girlfriend thought you drank to much and threw you out, am I right?” James nodded again.

“I want a car. The bus is too slow and I don't need to be pedaling all over the place.” James muttered.

“EEEEEENNNGGG! Wrong answer again.” More light was shining on James' situation. “You think you're too good to ride the bus?”

“I didn't say that.” James said softly, but I could tell by the way he lowered his head that was the way he felt. “Besides bikes are expensive.” I nodded my head, but had my answer ready.

“A new bike can cost money. Look for your bike at a pawn shop.”

“You're one of those fellas who have an answer for everything.” James said as he shook his head.

Now I took a sip of coffee. “Not me. Let's just say I know where you're coming from.”

James stared hard at me. I could tell he was trying to make up his mind. “You telling me you were out on the streets one time?”

I shrugged. Let him take that any way he wanted. “I just didn't like feeling sorry for myself. So I forced myself to do what I'm telling you to do.”

James sat and stared at his coffee. He took a sip, but said nothing as he put it back down. “It's not going to happen overnight, but if you want a house, car, clothes, you've got to work for them. I rode the bus for a year after my bike got stolen.” James was looking at me in a whole new way. “What do you think I do for a living?” James shook his head. “It doesn't matter what I'm doing right now. All you need to know is I started as a busboy in a Chinese restaurant.”

“But what if I don't want to do fast food?”

I didn't really have an answer for that question. I took a sip of my coffee and thought about it.

“Then go to one of the construction sites around the edge of town. Ask around and see if you can talk to the site manager. Do what they tell you, or if they know of someone who's hiring, go where they tell you.”

“But that's hard work.” James sounded a little fearful.

“Think of it this way.” I wanted to keep this conversation positive. “You're young. It's not forever. It's for now. There's no such thing as an overnight sensation. Those stories are usually fifteen years in the making. Construction workers make pretty decent money for the work they do. Now if you visit any pawn shop you'll see there are a bunch of tools on the shelves. It's where I get a lot of my tools.”

James appeared to be seriously considering what I said. “But I gotta give up beer?”

“Not forever, just for now. Buy yourself a six pack when you move into your new apartment as a way to celebrate. If you drink too much, you're going to find yourself back where you started.” My coffee was gone and it was time for me to head home. I stood up, James remained seated, but looked up at me.

“Take that any way you want. I don't give hand outs, I give hand ups. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. A lot of things that happen to us are our own fault, good and bad. Work on those faults, don't be afraid to ask for help.”

“People don't help.” James countered.

“People aren't going to want to support you forever. If folks see you're trying to make something of yourself, watch the help pour in.”

I didn't want to hear James' rebuttals or denials, so I turned and headed out the door, not looking back. I never saw James on the street corner again.

Simpler than it looks?

A couple of years ago I wrote a story based on an actual event.
At the time, we knew a guy who was homeless. He'd hang out with the rest of the 'Disney gang', We'd feed him occasionally... let him crash on a couch sometimes, but our sympathy and finances only went so far. We could barely look after ourselves. This wasn't cruelty, in fact, we were trying to be compassionate, or as sympathetic as 20 somethings can be, anyway.
So here I sat in a booth across from Steve or Mike (20+ years and I forget his name.) at a Circle K, sipping cheap coffee, trying to warm up from the Florida cold snap. (Yes, they do happen occasionally.) On cold winter nights Steve would beg to sleep on a couch or in the back seat of one of our cars. He often cleaned out freezers in exchange for shelter from the wind and elements.
That night I bought him some crappy coffee, (for which he was grateful!) I'd been doing some thinking on his situation. Most notably what would I do in his shoes. So we sat and came up with a plan. A strategy to get him off the streets. To my knowledge it worked.
How do I know that? First: I don't recall seeing Steve after that night. Second: I received a phone call from Steve's sister a few days before I was going to move out of my apartment. She wanted to thank me for helping Steve get back on his feet.
Years later I wrote a story based on those events. That short missive is sitting on our family computer hard drive,which is on my workbench need of a new motherboard and CPU. There is also a thumb drive in which I back up all my writing on. If I really dug deep, I could find the story.
Several things brought those memories to the surface. We're experiencing a pre-Thanksgiving cold snap, we have a house guest who we are helping get back on his feet, and I read an article about how easily it is to become homeless.
While I don't agree with everything in the article, there were more things I found myself agreeing with.
For instance, things cost less when you're rich. Think about how much you pay in rent, then ask a home owner what their mortgage payment is.
Want further proof? Last year my family went on vacation. We rented a car. With a credit card, the vehicle would have cost 500.00. Unfortunately my card expired the week before we were to begin our vacation and the new one hadn't arrived. No card? The rental price nearly doubled, almost scuttling our vacation before it began. I still had to borrow money to get gas for the trip home.
So when I see a homeless person begging for change on the street, I have a little sympathy... but not that much. There is no cure all... no panacea. Each situation is different. Every person is different. In my experience a person can become homeless very easily through bad luck, say a tornado hits your house... to series of bad choices, a fight with your roommate gets you evicted. Things will happen... Life happens. The question is: how will you deal with it? Most people deal with it quickly. Friends and family to fall back on. Sure, you swallow a bit of ego and pride, but you work through it and move on. A percentage of homeless don't have friends or family to rely on, some of them simply give up. At it's core, that's what it boils down to: the willpower to go on and not give up the struggle for survival.
Long ago I made my choice never to give up. To go down fighting if necessary. There is a part of me that believes having to struggle is what makes life interesting.
If you have a home and can keep a roof over your head, then you are blessed. Wanna rack up some extra karma? Perhaps I should put it another way. Do you want to help your fellow man and get a warm fuzzy feeling inside? Volunteer at a homeless shelter. If circumstances permit, perhaps you should consider taking one person and give them a hand up. By that I mean if you trust them, let them bunk in the spare bedroom or on the couch. Make it clear this is not permanent, but to help them get back on their feet. That's different than giving them a hand out. Lay down the rules and make a plan to get them on their feet as quickly as possible. Above all else, they have to want to rejoin the race. No one can do that for them, not even you. If they don't want to change, then there is nothing you can do to change them.    

More like it

Last week, I took my family to the movies. The temperature got up to 89 degrees. Not in the movies, but outdoors. For the middle of November, that's a bit much. There's some good news coming up though: Seems there is a cold front coming in. This weekend our high will be in the mid-forties. Now that's more like it. I'm thinking of doing a little research into high and low temperatures. Surely we've been recording things for over a century, we could see where we're trending.
The reason I'm bringing this up is not to prove Global Warming is real, (it is, end of discussion.) but I want to see the rubber band effect... the extreme weather. I already predicted we will have to extend hurricane season. That's just the armchair weatherman talking. We don't even get snow here in this part of Texas, but that might change.
After some thought, I fully expect the world to run out of fossil fuels in my lifetime. There have been several speculative fiction works that describe such a world. 
The climate deniers can whine about things being cyclical, I'm not buying that. Some certainties I know of:
Riding a bike around in the summer is a lot harder/ a death wish, than we care to admit.
Mankind is due for a culling. Now whether or not it's due to a natural or man-made disaster remains to be seen.
If you think our resources are plentiful, think again.

Curious scientifics

NASA launched a space probe called MAVEN today. Bound for Mars to study the upper atmosphere. Don't take my word for it, here's the scoop.
Spent the evening baking two pies with my daughter. I'll turn her into a cook yet. I'm still wearing my Darth Vader cooking apron. Does that say anything about how I run a kitchen? Maybe...
The ISS has been in orbit for 13 years. Woo!
We just had the Leonid meteor showers a few days ago, I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to see them. I'll catch them the next time around.
I'm really excited about the holidays this year. I'm not sure why, but I'm really looking forward to them.

Over this last year, things have gone by too quickly. My wife and I sat down with our oldest and discussed colleges she should apply for. There have been a few places that turned up. For me, I'd like her far enough away so she can grow on her own, yet close enough to catch her if she falls. Is that being over-protective? I don't think so.
All the stuff I learned as a kid growing up served as a basis for my first venture into the big, bad world. There were triumphs and setbacks, but what I learned the most from were the mistakes. Fortunately, things turned out alright. I want my girl to be exposed to some harsh realities. Those bad times I went through made me stronger, and that's what I want for her.
Sure, working overtime or two jobs is tough. Few people do that because they want to. It is because they have to. It all boils down to responsibility.
That doesn't take away from good times, but it makes those good times extra special.
My family had a very trying year, perhaps that's why Christmas and the end of year celebrations mean so much more to us.
    

Simple?

This weekend I was Mr. Multitask. I wrote out several invites to our gaming con in the spring. Saturday, the staff of Chimearacon held a planning meeting to see where we all are on our respective projects. Let's put it this way: there are several more letters I have to write.
Then it was time to bottle my first brew creation. 38 bottles from my 5 gallon carbine. Not bad... Priming and bottling is definitely a two person job. All this while doing the regular chores.
The flu bug has made it's way through our family. Today, we all felt good enough to see Thor. If you haven't seen that movie yet, go see it. My kids and I had fun playing spot Stan Lee.
I put together a bourbon pecan pie while doing the laundry. Good thing I didn't mix those two up.
I've been following a few blogs lately. Some are funny while others more inspirational.
Questions were posed through the blogs and it got me thinking about what defines me.
Am I hearing?
Am I deaf?
The hearing world considers me deaf. Try as I might to 'mainstream' myself, I can't quite bring it home. That Thor movie? I had to wear a special set of goggles that put the words up on the screen. Which by the way was 90% effective. Characters moved their lips on screen and no digital letters appeared underneath them, so yeah... it didn't ruin the movie, but it certainly took me out of it. Nevertheless, I did enjoy spending time with my family.
To the deaf world, I'm considered a spy for the hearing world. Good natured ribbing from my deaf friends, but I get the impression they don't fully trust me simply because I wasn't born that way. I'm not 'one of them'.
Communication between the deaf is more one-on-one. One person speaks or signs while the others observe/ listen. Personally, I find that really polite. You can actually have a constructive discussion with someone.
Hearing people tend to talk over each other. Multiple voices coming from different directions is confusing to the deaf. Let me put it another way: Part of my pecan pie calls for spicy pecans. Cumin and cayenne pepper glazed on to the pecans.
I was trying to explain to my wife the final stages of cooking the pie. She wanted to tell me the spicy pecans smelled good. With our overlapping voices, I found myself interrupted twice. More than a bit annoyed, I asked her if she had something to say. Not sure if it is how my brain is rewired, but I have to stop and give a person my complete attention while they speak. Doing the rapid talk/ talk back simply doesn't work for me anymore. Sorry folks, if you want to say anything to me, I have to listen.
If there was a top five of questions or lines said to me about becoming deaf, one of them would be;
'Must be lucky being able to turn off your ears.'
To which I smile and nod while keeping my big mouth shut. While it might be nice to go silent when my youngest daughter has a temper tantrum, every night I say a little prayer that my family will wake me in case of a fire. Yeah, fire alarms are pretty much useless to deaf people... Go figure.
While I'm in the neighborhood, I want to tell you about the two most common things hearing people say when I tell people I'm deaf.
1.) I'm sorry.
2.) That's okay.

1A.) I'm not sorry. Actually, I'm glad I lost my hearing. I've learned so much since having it taken away. If a doctor came up to me and said they discovered a way to restore my hearing, I don't think I'd want it back.

2A.) Of the people who say that's alright, are the ones who start treating me like an imbecile. A dismissive stance like that means they've assumed a lot more than what I've just said. Two sentences spoken and I've lost 50 IQ points in their mind.

Got news for you folks:
I cook a damn fine dinner and dessert. I write stories people like to read. I make my own beer. Take that to the bank all you unbelievers. 
 

 

Pride

A few days ago, my middle daughter got into an argument with one of her classmates. Not surprisingly, she won. After all, she's on the debate team, highly intelligent and female... A winning combination.
What surprised me was what they were arguing over. A question was posed, I'm not sure by whom, and it went like this: "Deaf teachers: Good idea or bad idea?"
One of the boys in her class immediately said it was a bad idea.
This raised the hackles of my kid quicker than anything.
"Deaf people can do anything, even teach."
Another classmate chimed in and asked daughter #2 why would she take such a stance.
"Because my Dad is deaf and he can do anything. You've met him!" she reminded the boy.
This struck home on many levels for me.

• Proud that my child holds me in such high esteem. It is my hope I can live up to the expectation.
• Disappointed that even though people have met me, they don't know me. Perhaps it's a cultural failing. When I tell people I'm deaf, they automatically knock off 50 IQ points. 

• Frustration in the fact that despite all I've done to get this far, there's a life-long battle in front of me.

For the longest time, my wife believed in me. She still does. Even when I didn't believe in myself, she held on, comforting, supporting and encouraging me to become better.
Having a front row seat to all the drama and turmoil that this house generates, my kids are as much an inspiration to me as I am to them.

Don't feed the bears

Seriously, has anyone seen a sign like that? I thought I'd lighten up the mood today with some stuff I found on the web.
I saw this years ago and I couldn't stop laughing.

Some times you're the bear, other times you're the penguin.

I'll credit the stuff with a link when possible. These aren't mine, they simply appealed to my off kilter sense of humor.

Amy Mebberson has a Facebook page entitled Pocket Princesses. Every Friday she updates it with a cartoon. She's a busy girl and all this stuff is free fan art. Disney owns the copyright, so she does this as a free service. Here's a sample of her work that made me roll my eyes and groan.

Oh, she's good.

Check out her page on Facebook or Tumblr
She's funny and talented. I don't know her personally, but I think she's great.

This one I got off of a place called Jawdrops. Brought to you by the same people who brought you People of Wal-Mart.

I'd first cut the power.

Now there are all those meme sites and lolcats having their cheeseburger. I'll admit they make me laugh from time to time. By and large they represent the least common denominator of humor. Digital graffiti lining the walls of the internet. Don't get me wrong, I think they have an entertainment value, I'd have to rank them alongside Saturday morning cartoons and stuff. Nice to see once in a while, but generally kid's stuff.
Re-reading the last paragraph, you can get the impression that I'm a little snobbish about all the stuff out there, when the opposite is true. But truly great humor is scarce to come by. The jokes that are long in telling. The video prank that clearly took great pains to set up. For example:
Flying Grim Reaper prank
Now that's funny.

Dream a little dream

As of this writing I don't know if I'll be going to work tomorrow. Saturday night I came down with something and spent a little quality time in the bathroom admiring the recently cleaned toilet bowl. (oh... hey look, I missed a spot.)

Today was spent dressing warmly and trying to sweat it out with moderate success. My tummy is still not happy with me. How does that saying go? Feed a fever and starve a cold? Symptoms include nauseous stomach, clammy skin, sensitivity to light and Barry Manilow music. Although that may explain the nausea...

I'll say this: my arms haven't fallen asleep all day. Usually in the morning, my fingers and hands will start to tingle. I switch off hands while driving in an effort not to have a full blown car accident. It all began last year when I started doing the serious loading and lifting at my work. More often than not, I awake to a hand painfully tingling or an arm that feels like it's going to fall off. For some strange reason that hasn't happened today. I can lay on my side or type this blog post and not have my fingertips go numb. Seems like a benefit, but I have to remind myself that's what it's supposed to feel like. In no way should I be grateful for something that is supposed to happen normally. Maybe the medicine I took is relaxing my muscles to the point where I can function with almost full abilities and range of motion. Which reminds me, I really ought to take some before crashing tonight.

In looking for a bright side to this, (yes, even sick I try to see the silver lining.) I'll get some really deep sleep and have some lucid dreams. It's a wonder I'm not insane. Ever since I was a kid, my dreams have been so realistic that I confused them with reality. I remember as a child having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I'd shuffle out of my bed with my footie pajamas scratching the floor as I made my way to the bathroom to do my business, only to find out I never left my bed. And people wonder why I pinch myself before walking into a restroom nowadays... geesh!

In all seriousness, a lot of my writing comes from my dreams. When I was in the hospital, my subconscious unleashed all the demons and monsters on my waking mind, and I didn't always win. This is what I refer to as the twilight time, that space between the dream realm and the waking world. There I solved mysteries, fought malevolent creatures and survived deadly races. There was a point where I didn't want to leave the world where I played poker with diamonds or solved a murder on a luxury ocean liner. Just as my childhood dreams, I couldn't tell which one was real. There are times where I wonder if I made the right choice and decided this reality was the real one.

Let me tell you a little secret: While recovering in the hospital, my choice of realities came down to this world where I was deaf and healing from traumatic injury, and the alternate reality where I was a detective and Lucy Lawless was my sidekick. I should have gone hunting for the missing diamonds with the beautiful partner. That would be a neat idea for a story: Dream a reality and have it become real. Then having to decide if you want to live in the world you created.

Hands off that one guys, That's my next project.

High gear

No sooner have I outlined a plan for Thanksgiving, then the holiday stress out begins. I'm charting out events and meetings. Where to go, what to bring. Who to drop off.
We're cleaning and preparing to have a garage sale. Too bad we have to have a permit for that. So we'll push that back a week. It'll happen... just not on the time frame we'd hoped for. Some bags for clothing donation are going out and I bought a portable bag for a trash collection. They wanted 137.00 dollars. Upon hearing the price, I told them it was a deal breaker. They'll get it a little at a time. I'm patient that way.
Basketball season is starting. In our budget trimming I had to make the hard decisions... like suspending cable for six months. Think of it as extra incentive for increasing my income. I really want to see some games! Last night we had a girl scout meeting at a fairly forgettable burger joint. The only upside for me was the Heat / Clippers game on.
I'll work on it, never fear.
 

Preparing

The baking season is upon us! Arise, food lovers and connoisseurs.
We've got this down to a science.
I will make a pecan pie. Not to be outdone, my wife will make a sweet potato pecan pie.
Then I will put together my loaded apple pie.
We will get a turkey in the 17 to 20 pound range. This year we may have more guests, so I might go with a larger bird.
We found this fabulous way to prepare the turkey.
The recipe says you can do this early in the day, but trust me, the night before is when you want to start the brine. Don't be scared by that  'b' word, it's easier than you think.
Good Eats Roast Turkey 
Alton Brown is my hero.
Now you can't have Turkey without stuffing. After you try this, you'll never go back to Stove Top again.
Raffy's Turkey Sausage and Chestnut Stuffing.
This one has a lot of ingredients, and a lot of steps, but it is so worth it.
When it comes time to actually cook the turkey, we don't use the oven. While the wife is making the stuffing, I'll be putting the bird on the grill. After having done it that way for three years, my wife has vowed never to cook a Thanksgiving turkey again.
That vow isn't set in stone, by the way. A long time ago my wife made home made baked mac and cheese. After taking one bite, I said to her; 'this is how you will make mac and cheese from now on.'
When I served up the grilled turkey with the smoke marbled in and the skin a golden brown perfection, my wife said; 'This is how the turkey will be done from now on.' Who am I to argue?
Let's see... There's a recipe for stuffed mushrooms around here.
There are potatoes and vegetables. We try different stuff each year. One year it'll be Smoked Chile Scalloped Sweet potatoes. The next year it will be sour cream mashed potatoes.  Incidentally, my kids call these Nana's mashed potatoes. After looking carefully at the recipe, I've decided they're one and the same.
Depending on the people coming over, or time constraints... or yes, the budget, our Thanksgiving is this loose collection of dishes.
But that's not the last word in the baking season. Large quantities of Snickerdoodle cookies will spring forth on any given weekend between Thanksgiving a Christmas. followed up by Triple Ginger Cookies
When the weather turns cold, I make soup.
Potato soup, broccoli cheese soup, and my favorite, Chicken and dumplings.
There is one more holiday treat/tradition around here and it's called chocolate covered peanut butter bon-bons. My wife insists it's a secret family recipe. What I can tell you is there is no baking involved however, melting chocolate in a double boiler is part of the process. Making these is a big production in our house. The whole family gets involved. We make these for Christmas parties and give boxes of them out for white elephant gifts. Oh, they do taste great and they're addictive as all get out, but let's call them what they really are: Monthy comfort food for the female contingent of the family.
So please feel free to try some of these for the holidays.

To do lists

Yesterday I tried a new thing. There is a five gallon jug in my kitchen pantry filled with what I hope will be beer by the end of the month. More people should try stuff they've never done before.
A lot of folks I've met haven't tried anything new. They've never left their home state... never left their home town. Day in and day out, the routine never varies. You may think I'm exaggerating, but here's the deal: I've met people who were born, lived and retired all in the same 50 square mile radius of town.
That staggers the mind... Literally, I can't comprehend staying in one place or town for your entire life. Oh sure, I can see choosing a place to settle down. The opposite of settling down is... moving around.
The other day it occurred to me I've lived in San Antonio for over 15 years. Thirteen of them have been in this same house. That is the most I've ever stayed in one place. I'm not getting the urge to wander, just the opposite: I've chosen this place to settle down.
One day I would like to visit Yellowstone Park. After seeing pictures and films, I wouldn't mind going there in person. I've also promised my kids I'd take them to the Grand Canyon. When I attend weddings in other states, I take a look around with my tourist eye. That way I can indulge with the tourist-y stuff without actually taking a full blown vacation. So down the line when the question gets asked; Where do you want to on vacation, I have a ready answer. Philadelphia? check. Portland? Wouldn't mind going back to either of those towns.
But what really intrigues me is going to places I've never been. If money and time were no object, I would take the back roads to far off places. Some of the neatest places are not near an interstate.
The highway system is all well and good. Having used it to travel cross country is really not that bad. However, I discover more of our land when I go by the road less traveled... and that has made all the difference.