Another few days in the record books for the Weirdo and I.
On Wednesday The Weirdo came home around 3 PM, let the dogs out, and then left to go pick up the Monkey. I woke up around 4 PM. I stretched, got dressed, and ambled through the house towards the back door for a smoke. I stopped dead in my tracks when I looked out the back windows and saw a tree on my back deck. My mind raced:
Did the Weirdo bring home a bunch of branches for some project she has in mind? Why would she leave them there? They're big too - how did she move them? I hope she's not juicing...
My brain began processing the rain that had been drenching the area before I went to bed. Then it all clicked: the rain & storm knocked the tree over. Great.
To say this was a big tree would be a bit of an understatement. This tree fell from my neighbor's yard just on the other side of my fence, went across my entire back yard, damaged the fence on the other side, and covered half my driveway. It ripped down the gutters on the back of the house, the fascia board behind the gutters, and the plastic underside of the porch. The fence is completely demolished where the tree fell. The roof is damaged. The back deck railings were knocked aside like balsa wood, and to top it all off some electrical wires were torn down. And there were the dogs, looking nervously between me and the tree as if to say "I didn't do it..."
So I called the Weirdo to fill her in. Then it was a call to my best friend the Fireman. Then the Weirdo's dad. Then the utility company. The Fireman and the utility guys showed up around the same time it started raining again. The electrical wires were determined to be safe enough that close to 5 PM and quitting time. Soon I was on the phone with the insurance company, who promised a meeting with the adjuster within 48 hours.
47.5 hours later the insurance guy shows up. He spent about an hour and a half inspecting, poking, prodding, snapping pictures, and jotting notes down. I thought he was pretty nice, although my opinion will not be officially made up until next week when I know if we'll get enough to repair everything. He left Friday afternoon, and I went to work Friday night.
The Weirdo and her Bestie went out Friday night, so I had to come home halfway through the shift to walk the dogs one last time before putting them in their kennels for the night. I let them out the back door, then went back inside for a few minutes. I came back out and called them to the back door to get them inside for the night. Just as the dogs came onto the deck so did one of our cats. The bulldog and the cat did not get along, and as always the bulldog immediately began to chase the cat. Only this time, with the downed tree covering half the deck, the cat had nowhere to go. The dog caught and killed the cat in a matter of seconds. If that damn tree hadn't have fallen the cat would have gotten away like always.
Got off work at 7 AM, nearing the 24 hour mark of being awake. The Weirdo would be waking up and coming home soon, and I didn't want any gruesome sights waiting for her. So I buried the cat, used a rock to mark the grave, and went to bed.
It's the unexpected cause and effect that's got my mind so occupied. A tree fell, and we immediately assumed the worst part of everything was that the house was damaged. We never in a million years would have guessed that the tree falling would result in the cat getting killed two days later. In addition, the tree falling has already screwed up our plans for next week. The Weirdo has to go out of town for two days for work training and our plan was that me and the Monkey would go with her. Now, with the fence down, we can't leave the dogs out and have a friend put them inside at night so me and the Monkey are staying home.
I'm really going to enjoy taking a chainsaw to that tree.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
The Lonely Loner
In a weird place right now.
I'm training a new hire at work, and will be for at least the next week or two. She's nice and easy to get along with. She's been in this line of work four times longer than I have, so I don't really need to train her on how to do the job - just the particulars of how this city wants it done. So the training itself is easy. It's something else...
Every time I'm training someone my mind quickly starts to fast forward to when I've got my car to myself again. I like being alone in my car. I like going where I want, when I want, and doing what I want without need for reason or explanation. I don't get irritated or upset, I just get anxious to be alone again. It's weird, because to me the only thing better than having my car to myself is meeting up with a coworker during the shift to shoot the breeze. I like being alone, as long as I can go meet up with a buddy whenever the need arises. It's weird.
I guess when I've got the car to myself I can decide when to hang out with a coworker for a few minutes and when I want to drive around practicing my Bobby Darin or Billy Joel karyoke performances. It's a Piano Man meets Mack the Knife kinda thing.
The real irony is that despite my strong desire to be alone at work I rarely want to be alone when off work. The Weirdo has endured my whining about missing being at home with her and the Monkey since I went to a night shift back in August. The Weirdo and I have discussed our individual need for alone time. It's not a lack of love or desire to be together. I think on some level it's just human nature. We all put on a little bit of a game face when we're with another person. My game face for the Weirdo is pretty thin - even transparent in some places, while the face I use for work is unbelievably thick.
So the Weirdo and I both value alone time. She gets hers in the evening, with a book or her writing or (lately) Ghost Whisperer while me and the Monkey play in the living room. I usually get my alone time at work - unless I'm training someone. The past couple days I've been in this weird state of wanting to be with the Weirdo and the Monkey in one instant and wishing for a few solitary hours in the next.
I don't know how, but I think the solution to this is a karyoke night. I've got a Black Crowes song in mind that I'm a little nervous about, but we'll see how it goes.
I'm training a new hire at work, and will be for at least the next week or two. She's nice and easy to get along with. She's been in this line of work four times longer than I have, so I don't really need to train her on how to do the job - just the particulars of how this city wants it done. So the training itself is easy. It's something else...
Every time I'm training someone my mind quickly starts to fast forward to when I've got my car to myself again. I like being alone in my car. I like going where I want, when I want, and doing what I want without need for reason or explanation. I don't get irritated or upset, I just get anxious to be alone again. It's weird, because to me the only thing better than having my car to myself is meeting up with a coworker during the shift to shoot the breeze. I like being alone, as long as I can go meet up with a buddy whenever the need arises. It's weird.
I guess when I've got the car to myself I can decide when to hang out with a coworker for a few minutes and when I want to drive around practicing my Bobby Darin or Billy Joel karyoke performances. It's a Piano Man meets Mack the Knife kinda thing.
The real irony is that despite my strong desire to be alone at work I rarely want to be alone when off work. The Weirdo has endured my whining about missing being at home with her and the Monkey since I went to a night shift back in August. The Weirdo and I have discussed our individual need for alone time. It's not a lack of love or desire to be together. I think on some level it's just human nature. We all put on a little bit of a game face when we're with another person. My game face for the Weirdo is pretty thin - even transparent in some places, while the face I use for work is unbelievably thick.
So the Weirdo and I both value alone time. She gets hers in the evening, with a book or her writing or (lately) Ghost Whisperer while me and the Monkey play in the living room. I usually get my alone time at work - unless I'm training someone. The past couple days I've been in this weird state of wanting to be with the Weirdo and the Monkey in one instant and wishing for a few solitary hours in the next.
I don't know how, but I think the solution to this is a karyoke night. I've got a Black Crowes song in mind that I'm a little nervous about, but we'll see how it goes.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
A Great Fall Day
If I got paid for putting miles on my car's odometer I would have made a lot of money today!
Started the day early when the Weirdo woke me from my peaceful slumber by turning the lights on and hinting at a potential for domestic violence if my drowsiness made us late. After my aerosol shot of nicotine I was finished waking up, and then it was time to get the Monkey up. I can already see he's going to be a morning person like the Weirdo because he was literally bouncing up and down in his crib in anticipation of starting the day. I can't remember the last time I was that eager to get out of bed. Am I wrong for lacking such enthusiasm for life, or has the Monkey just not yet come to appreciate the greatness of sleep? I'm leaning towards the latter, but I digress.
The Weirdo sent me out to fill up the car with gas, which I was happy to do. I love running little errands. Dropping off the gas bill, dropping off dry cleaning, running to the store for milk & eggs, whatever needs doing! Maybe I like having something to do, or maybe I like being given a clear goal that I can reach with ease so I get that little sense of accomplishment.
"Weirdo my love, you tasked me with fetching you milk and a book of stamps. I bring them to you now knowing your heart is bursting with love and admiration. I will now accept my butt pinch in reward."
Anyway, with the Weirdo and the Monkey ready to go we piled into the car. We picked up the Weirdo's other significant other (her best friend), and set out for the mountains. A few hours later we arrived at the 2010 Hillbilly Hog BBQ Throwdown. Much to my disappointment I didn't see a single "Get er done" hat or t-shirt. We had some great 'cue (that's what us insiders call it), some Italian ice, and I posed in front of the "Best Butt In Town" sign.
Had one of those "moments" while we were there too. No, not a Viagra moment - where the Weirdo is eating 'cue, gets sauce on her chin, I wipe it off with my napkin, and she smiles at me all coy and knowing. If that happened in real life I'd be pelting her with little BBQ sauce containers from McDonalds all the time. No, it was one of those "Life is beautiful" kinda moments. It was my turn to chase the Monkey, and after a few goes down the slides I decided to bring him over to the Sheriff's tent for a free balloon. We got balloon # 1 and I gave it to the Monkey. I hovered over him as he delighted in his lightweight new best thing ever, confident that when he inevitably let it go I would snatch it from the air and return it to him. I underestimated the power of fresh helium, and when he let it go it soared up into the sky. The Monkey watched it intently, pointing at it and providing commentary:
"Bah dah dah.. booowwll."
I wanted to kick myself for letting his balloon get away, and I expected a total Monkey meltdown any second for it's loss. The nice Deputy gave me balloon # 2, and with it firmly in my own grasp we headed back over to where the Weirdo and her bestie were sitting. We tied the balloon onto the Monkey's belt loop, and he seemed to enjoy it for a bit. I figured with his balloon firmly attached he would be happy all day. Minutes later he was on the ground screaming, kicking and slapping at his floating accessory. I cut the balloon loose and handed it to him. He held it only long enough to let it go, and once again he marveled at it as it rose up and away.
That's when it hit all of us: he didn't mind losing his balloon if it meant he could watch it float away. It's ability to defy gravity, which he has only recently come to somewhat understand, was absolutely amazing to him. Only adults automatically assume a balloon is better appreciated attached to your hip rather than allowed to serve it's purpose and float up into the sky. I guess you never know what your toddler will teach you next.
After we had our fill of 'cue we headed home. The Weirdo even let me listen to one of my mix CDs on the way back! She is a bit of a dictator when it comes to what music gets played in the car, and much to my dismay her music sounds to me like a ghost haunting a psych ward just dropped some bad acid and found it's way to a synthesizer.
After a brief respite at home we were back on the road headed towards Cochran Mill. Picked up a few extra family members on the way, and soon found ourselves at the Cochran Mill Nature Center. It was a hayride down to the festival, petting a live snake, and hot dogs on the porch while we played and laughed with the Monkey (in a dinosaur costume) and our nephew (in a monkey costume).
After that it was dinner at Nana and Papa's house, where I watched the Weirdo go from book reader to surf board to expert toddler wrassler. Got home and carried my sleeping Monkey to his bed, but couldn't make it out of the room without doing that weird, parent, my-sleeping-child-is-the-most-wonderful-thing-I've-ever-seen thing. The Weirdo dashed off to her other world, where a story in her head was waiting to be written, and I sat down to tell you about my day.
It was a great Fall day!
Started the day early when the Weirdo woke me from my peaceful slumber by turning the lights on and hinting at a potential for domestic violence if my drowsiness made us late. After my aerosol shot of nicotine I was finished waking up, and then it was time to get the Monkey up. I can already see he's going to be a morning person like the Weirdo because he was literally bouncing up and down in his crib in anticipation of starting the day. I can't remember the last time I was that eager to get out of bed. Am I wrong for lacking such enthusiasm for life, or has the Monkey just not yet come to appreciate the greatness of sleep? I'm leaning towards the latter, but I digress.
The Weirdo sent me out to fill up the car with gas, which I was happy to do. I love running little errands. Dropping off the gas bill, dropping off dry cleaning, running to the store for milk & eggs, whatever needs doing! Maybe I like having something to do, or maybe I like being given a clear goal that I can reach with ease so I get that little sense of accomplishment.
"Weirdo my love, you tasked me with fetching you milk and a book of stamps. I bring them to you now knowing your heart is bursting with love and admiration. I will now accept my butt pinch in reward."
Anyway, with the Weirdo and the Monkey ready to go we piled into the car. We picked up the Weirdo's other significant other (her best friend), and set out for the mountains. A few hours later we arrived at the 2010 Hillbilly Hog BBQ Throwdown. Much to my disappointment I didn't see a single "Get er done" hat or t-shirt. We had some great 'cue (that's what us insiders call it), some Italian ice, and I posed in front of the "Best Butt In Town" sign.
Had one of those "moments" while we were there too. No, not a Viagra moment - where the Weirdo is eating 'cue, gets sauce on her chin, I wipe it off with my napkin, and she smiles at me all coy and knowing. If that happened in real life I'd be pelting her with little BBQ sauce containers from McDonalds all the time. No, it was one of those "Life is beautiful" kinda moments. It was my turn to chase the Monkey, and after a few goes down the slides I decided to bring him over to the Sheriff's tent for a free balloon. We got balloon # 1 and I gave it to the Monkey. I hovered over him as he delighted in his lightweight new best thing ever, confident that when he inevitably let it go I would snatch it from the air and return it to him. I underestimated the power of fresh helium, and when he let it go it soared up into the sky. The Monkey watched it intently, pointing at it and providing commentary:
"Bah dah dah.. booowwll."
I wanted to kick myself for letting his balloon get away, and I expected a total Monkey meltdown any second for it's loss. The nice Deputy gave me balloon # 2, and with it firmly in my own grasp we headed back over to where the Weirdo and her bestie were sitting. We tied the balloon onto the Monkey's belt loop, and he seemed to enjoy it for a bit. I figured with his balloon firmly attached he would be happy all day. Minutes later he was on the ground screaming, kicking and slapping at his floating accessory. I cut the balloon loose and handed it to him. He held it only long enough to let it go, and once again he marveled at it as it rose up and away.
That's when it hit all of us: he didn't mind losing his balloon if it meant he could watch it float away. It's ability to defy gravity, which he has only recently come to somewhat understand, was absolutely amazing to him. Only adults automatically assume a balloon is better appreciated attached to your hip rather than allowed to serve it's purpose and float up into the sky. I guess you never know what your toddler will teach you next.
After we had our fill of 'cue we headed home. The Weirdo even let me listen to one of my mix CDs on the way back! She is a bit of a dictator when it comes to what music gets played in the car, and much to my dismay her music sounds to me like a ghost haunting a psych ward just dropped some bad acid and found it's way to a synthesizer.
After a brief respite at home we were back on the road headed towards Cochran Mill. Picked up a few extra family members on the way, and soon found ourselves at the Cochran Mill Nature Center. It was a hayride down to the festival, petting a live snake, and hot dogs on the porch while we played and laughed with the Monkey (in a dinosaur costume) and our nephew (in a monkey costume).
After that it was dinner at Nana and Papa's house, where I watched the Weirdo go from book reader to surf board to expert toddler wrassler. Got home and carried my sleeping Monkey to his bed, but couldn't make it out of the room without doing that weird, parent, my-sleeping-child-is-the-most-wonderful-thing-I've-ever-seen thing. The Weirdo dashed off to her other world, where a story in her head was waiting to be written, and I sat down to tell you about my day.
It was a great Fall day!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Disconnected
Having a tough day.
It's the inevitable byproduct of working a night shift when you're a caring, sensitive guy who actually enjoys being home with his family. I miss them. I work all night just to come home, kiss the Weirdo goodbye, and drive the Monkey to Grandma's. Sleep all day, pick up the Monkey, spend an hour with the Weirdo, and then it's right back to work tonight.
In short, I feel disconnected.
A growing part of me really hates working nights because of this. On her lunch break earlier the Weirdo told me last night there was this perfect Kodak moment with her, the dog, and the Monkey. The first thought I had was that I should have been there to see it.
What makes it tougher is that I'm seemingly alone in my disconnected state of mind. For a time the Monkey would cry and pout when I suited up to go to work; reaching out for me and scrunching his face and all but shouting "Please don't go!" Now, he seems to recognize what the uniform means. I get a hug and a kiss - which I am still beyond thankful for - and then he's back to his toys.
The Weirdo gets by just fine, partially because 50% of the time she's lost in her own head anyway. Just one line from a song or a tv show ignites this creative fury in her, and a day later she's got a plot outline for her newest story. Aside from that, the Weirdo is much more balanced than I am. She's got - and this is the short list- me, her best friend, and her mom as her triangle of emotional stability. I thankfully have my mother and friends as well, but the Weirdo is my # 1 by a mile.
To put it another way, if you were tasked with fully and completely describing the Weirdo (her personality, thoughts, feelings) to a complete stranger you would have to talk to a minimum of the three people I listed above. If tasked with doing the same for me you need only talk to the Weirdo.
I of course recognize that this isn't really healthy. The Weirdo learned from past experience not to become fully vested in a single person, no matter how great the love or commitment. I never got that lesson because I never had the opportunity to learn until I met her.
All of this is my long winded way of saying that working a night shift, being constantly drawn away from my family, really brings me down in a big way. When I don't have that closeness, that contact, I end up feeling disconnected.
I think I need a combination of going back to day shift, spending a little more time with and opening up a little more to my friends, and someone to tell me that it's all gonna be OK.
It's the inevitable byproduct of working a night shift when you're a caring, sensitive guy who actually enjoys being home with his family. I miss them. I work all night just to come home, kiss the Weirdo goodbye, and drive the Monkey to Grandma's. Sleep all day, pick up the Monkey, spend an hour with the Weirdo, and then it's right back to work tonight.
In short, I feel disconnected.
A growing part of me really hates working nights because of this. On her lunch break earlier the Weirdo told me last night there was this perfect Kodak moment with her, the dog, and the Monkey. The first thought I had was that I should have been there to see it.
What makes it tougher is that I'm seemingly alone in my disconnected state of mind. For a time the Monkey would cry and pout when I suited up to go to work; reaching out for me and scrunching his face and all but shouting "Please don't go!" Now, he seems to recognize what the uniform means. I get a hug and a kiss - which I am still beyond thankful for - and then he's back to his toys.
The Weirdo gets by just fine, partially because 50% of the time she's lost in her own head anyway. Just one line from a song or a tv show ignites this creative fury in her, and a day later she's got a plot outline for her newest story. Aside from that, the Weirdo is much more balanced than I am. She's got - and this is the short list- me, her best friend, and her mom as her triangle of emotional stability. I thankfully have my mother and friends as well, but the Weirdo is my # 1 by a mile.
To put it another way, if you were tasked with fully and completely describing the Weirdo (her personality, thoughts, feelings) to a complete stranger you would have to talk to a minimum of the three people I listed above. If tasked with doing the same for me you need only talk to the Weirdo.
I of course recognize that this isn't really healthy. The Weirdo learned from past experience not to become fully vested in a single person, no matter how great the love or commitment. I never got that lesson because I never had the opportunity to learn until I met her.
All of this is my long winded way of saying that working a night shift, being constantly drawn away from my family, really brings me down in a big way. When I don't have that closeness, that contact, I end up feeling disconnected.
I think I need a combination of going back to day shift, spending a little more time with and opening up a little more to my friends, and someone to tell me that it's all gonna be OK.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
An Explanation
You may be wondering where the title of this blog comes from. Big A, the Weirdo, and the Monkey. Well, it's kind of a funny story.
My name is Anthony, so Big A would imply that I'm a big guy. Eh. A guy that I work with is a big guy. 6'06, 350 pounds-ish. THAT'S a big guy. This monster can lift a refrigerator without any help. And no, I'm not grossly overweight to the point that it would earn me the Big A nickname in a friendly, loving, ooh-my-God-he'll-be-dead-from-heart-failure-by-35 kinda way either. In truth, Big A is not my nickname. It never has been. And yet, there is a story there.
As with all great stories, this one starts with meeting a girl on the internet. Gulp. When I was younger I firmly believed that there was a decent chance that the girl of my dreams was waiting for me in a chatroom somewhere. I'd keep my eyes peeled for a profile that read
"Nerdy, beautiful girl, loves Star Wars, beer, and discussions about time travel. Lives around the corner from you, Anthony."
I never actually saw a profile like that, but I kept my hopes high. One of the girls I met actually decided to meet up with me in the real world. She had some friends with her and we met in a public place, just in case one or the other turned out to be the weird, heavy breathing, wear your skin for a bathrobe kind of person. After we hung out that night I went home just beyond pleased with myself that a strange girl had voluntarily chosen to spend several hours with me. The next day in her AIM status box she mentioned something about having fun with some friends and "Big A". Sweet! She gave me a nickname! She must like me! The next time I talked to her I mentioned the new nickname she had given me. Slightly confused, she explained that "Big A" was her friend named Andrew. Permanent memory of horrifying embarassment, check.
Thankfully, I stopped trying to meet girls on the internet and instead talked to them face to face. This proved to be a much better idea, as I am now happily married to the Weirdo for almost five years.
So how did the Weirdo get her nickname?
Early on in our relationship the Weirdo and I learned that we were both goofy as hell. One day during a car ride we were joking about what our lives would be like after we were married. The Weirdo said I would have to be in charge of the money, because she would draw doodles and smiley faces on checks sent it for bills. She said whoever we sent the checks to would send us a letter that read, and I quote "Dear Weirdo, stop sending us weird checks." My wife, the Weirdo.
The irony is, five years later, the Weirdo is in charge of the family finances.
That brings us to the Monkey. Not a complex explanation here. The Monkey, our almost-two year old, is like a little monkey. He climbs furniture and hurls food and screams with delight when he sees a choo choo train or a fire truck. I love him more than words can describe. He is my pride and joy, and the Weirdo and I call him our little Monkey.
Big A, the Weirdo, and the Monkey.
My name is Anthony, so Big A would imply that I'm a big guy. Eh. A guy that I work with is a big guy. 6'06, 350 pounds-ish. THAT'S a big guy. This monster can lift a refrigerator without any help. And no, I'm not grossly overweight to the point that it would earn me the Big A nickname in a friendly, loving, ooh-my-God-he'll-be-dead-from-heart-failure-by-35 kinda way either. In truth, Big A is not my nickname. It never has been. And yet, there is a story there.
As with all great stories, this one starts with meeting a girl on the internet. Gulp. When I was younger I firmly believed that there was a decent chance that the girl of my dreams was waiting for me in a chatroom somewhere. I'd keep my eyes peeled for a profile that read
"Nerdy, beautiful girl, loves Star Wars, beer, and discussions about time travel. Lives around the corner from you, Anthony."
I never actually saw a profile like that, but I kept my hopes high. One of the girls I met actually decided to meet up with me in the real world. She had some friends with her and we met in a public place, just in case one or the other turned out to be the weird, heavy breathing, wear your skin for a bathrobe kind of person. After we hung out that night I went home just beyond pleased with myself that a strange girl had voluntarily chosen to spend several hours with me. The next day in her AIM status box she mentioned something about having fun with some friends and "Big A". Sweet! She gave me a nickname! She must like me! The next time I talked to her I mentioned the new nickname she had given me. Slightly confused, she explained that "Big A" was her friend named Andrew. Permanent memory of horrifying embarassment, check.
Thankfully, I stopped trying to meet girls on the internet and instead talked to them face to face. This proved to be a much better idea, as I am now happily married to the Weirdo for almost five years.
So how did the Weirdo get her nickname?
Early on in our relationship the Weirdo and I learned that we were both goofy as hell. One day during a car ride we were joking about what our lives would be like after we were married. The Weirdo said I would have to be in charge of the money, because she would draw doodles and smiley faces on checks sent it for bills. She said whoever we sent the checks to would send us a letter that read, and I quote "Dear Weirdo, stop sending us weird checks." My wife, the Weirdo.
The irony is, five years later, the Weirdo is in charge of the family finances.
That brings us to the Monkey. Not a complex explanation here. The Monkey, our almost-two year old, is like a little monkey. He climbs furniture and hurls food and screams with delight when he sees a choo choo train or a fire truck. I love him more than words can describe. He is my pride and joy, and the Weirdo and I call him our little Monkey.
Big A, the Weirdo, and the Monkey.
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