Me: He’s so dumb. Talking to him is like having a conversation with a goldfish that can tawk. Her: OMG your Queens just came out! Me: Dammit!
My Queens accent has come out twice with the Firecracker and she’s astute enough to catch it when it does.
To paraphrase Amy Ryan – who came from Flushing, Queens, same as me – from The Office: You can take the boy outta Queens…
One of the things that the Firecracker and I have been doing is digging through the dozens of board games up in here that I’ve literally never played.
They were either rando gifts or items that old tenants left in my building, and I was loathe to throw out.
Her: Wait, you own this and have never played it? How long have you had it? Me: (thinking) Jesus Christ, like 25 years?
Case-in-point, The Firecracker pulled out a board game of Yahtzee the other day that I probably had since the 90s and yet never played.
Not once.
So, she and I did just that.
We both managed to roll some pretty insane things, such that our first round was pretty impressive.
It was all downhill from there.
Exciting times here in Casa Lo.
Me: I think we should never play this again, we’re never gonna top these rolls. Her: (nodding) This is very true. No one is gonna believe us that you just rolled a full house. Me: (shaking head) Nope.
It’s not Miami, or the Bahamas, or a nice cruise but it’s something.
Don’t think I’ve ever lost my cool and was happy about the results. If I can give the kid anything, hopefully, it’s a better sense of being calm and calculated.
To this end, I personally have been re-reading (ok, skimming) Meditations by Marcus Aurelius and also other stoic books here and there in the hopes that all this anger at the injustice of Alison and my dad’s suffering and deaths somehow becomes more manageable.
It’s a daily struggle, I have to admit.
One really sweet thing that we’ve been doing here at Casa Lo is to have regular board game nights with the kids.
It’s a small and silly thing but one that I appreciate greatly because children – at this age and younger – learn so much in competition and games.
Forgot to take pics, so I took the pic from this old entry in 2011 with Alison at Paul’s old pad.
We’ve been playing a few card games as well as board games, particularly what we call The Bean Game – addictively fun – and Settlers of Catan.
Both boys are pretty competitive but, because my son is younger, he’s still dealing with the emotions that come with winning and losing.
One night, recently, the kid had a particularly bad night and lost his cool, so I brought him to his room to have a chat with him.
I think I want what every good parent wants: For one’s children to be better than they are.
Hope I have enough time here to accomplish that.
After all, if we’re being honest here, it’s really the main reason I’m here.
Me: What’s the obligation of a champion, boy? Him: To act like a champion. Me:…at all times. Don’t forget that last part: At all times. Him: But you lose your temper too, papa! Me: I’m aware. I’m working on that. And that’s kinda my point: You can be better than me. And I want you to be better than me. Listen, if you act like a musician, with enough practice, you’ll be one. If you act like a BJJ player, you’ll be one. And if you act like a champion, you’ll be one. But you have to do it at all times. There’s no such thing as a parttime champion.
But, as the years go on, I find myself at them more and more often.
One of our core group’s parents passed away the other day.
Him: Can you make it? Me: Of course I’ll be there.
So, we all met up and went to the funeral together.
One guy drove in all the way from Virginia just to pay his respects.
After a spell, we stepped out to get a drink…
…before heading out for food.
The details aren’t in my story to tell, so lemme pivot and just tell you that I count myself quite lucky that I have these people in my life.
You never really think of the value of good friends when you’re a kid and only realize it when the time comes to need good friends.
Him: Logan – always thinking of food. Me: This is, sadly, so very true.
I have a running joke with the fellas where, no matter how many times I’m invited out, I always say, “I’m finally invited to something!”
Been doing that for over 30 years with them but the reason I say that is that I’m genuinely always happy to just be included.
As a kid growing up with zero friends, it’s nice that to belong somewhere.
What is life if not looking for where we belong? Who our tribes are?
And the tribe always shows up when needed.
Couldn’t stay the whole night because I had to get the kid from a school event, but it was so good seeing everyone, despite the circumstances.
Me: (to buddy that came from Virginia) You gotta come up more often than once every 20 years. Him: I’ll come back. Me: Yeah, please. Under much better circumstances.
This year was the same as previous years but also a bit different.
In the past, we used to go out and wander all over the UWS. But something felt different this year.
My kid’s dressed up as French soccer player Kylian Mbappé.
I’d been reading about shootings in the area on the upswing and I just didn’t feel comfortable with Nate running around outside; especially since, in the past, there were times I felt penned in in some streets and the last thing I wanted at that time was some violence.
It turns out that I was right, because my sister wrote me to tell me that a McDonalds – which my kid and I’ve been to easily 2-3 dozen times – had a shootout just an hour after when we were supposed to start trick or treating.
So, while the Firecracker and her kid went trick-or-treating out and about, I only let the kid do it in the large apartment complex next door.
On the positive side, though, it’s nice that he and I have so many friends in the neighborhood that we have the opportunity to do things like that.
It stinks that kids can’t just be kids these days.
Like all parents, I try to shield him from what I can but it’s a losing battle.
Still, he’s such a resilient little kid, I’m hoping it’ll be ok, somehow.
Considering that today was Halloween, have you ever had a “banana-flavoured,” candy and thought, “This tastes kinda like a banana but not really?”
There’s a reason for that.
Not a banana plant but I thought it looked nice. From this entry.
Years ago, I had some friends over and we were playing Scattergories and the category was: Birds that begin with the letter “G.”
Him: What the hell’s a “Great Auk?” Me: It’s a large, flightless, extinct bird. Him: You can’t just put “Great” in front of a bird and say it starts with, “G!” Me: OK Google, what’s a Great Auk? Machine: According to Wikipedia, “The great auk is a species of flightless alcid that became extinct in the mid-19th century. It was the only modern species in the genus Pinguinus.” Him: OK, stop, stop. Just take it.
Remember that line: “…the onlymodern species in the genus Pinguinus.”
I’d meant to write an entry about that, but it slipped my mind.
Now, the Great Auk was a true penguin – it looked like this:
By Mike Pennington, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=13812423
I know what you’re thinking, “They kinda look like penguins.”
But that’s the opposite of the truth – the things we call penguins kinda look like them, the real penguins.
Those birds, the real penguins, completely died/were killed off some time in 1844.
A decade previously, around 1831, people started calling flightless birds in the Southern Hemisphere – far from the Northern Atlantic where the Great Auk was found – “penguins” because they kinda looked like the Great Auk.
But they weren’t actually penguins at all – again, the Great Auk was the “onlymodern species in the genus Pinguinus.”
Always found that so interesting: The birds we all call “penguins,” aren’t actually “penguins” at all but a completely different animal that we all assume are penguins now.
By Zwifree – I personally took this picture in my kitchen after buying approximately 30 Gros Michel Bananas.Previously published: I put it on my Facebook, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=70354204
Somewhat related, my parents (and probably yours as well) grew up with a banana that was the Gos Michel banana but those went commercially extinct by about the 1960s.
In their place was the Cavendish banana, which I, and probably you, grew up on.
The Cavendish tasted a lot different from the bananas they grew up on, the Big Mike.
And that’s why a lotta banana-flavoured things don’t taste exactly like a banana to us – because those flavours were developed to imitate the original Gros Michel and not the Cavendish.
On a completely unrelated point, the election is happening soon.
Growing up, I spent most of my young adult life voting Republican because I was always fiscally conservative whilst being socially liberal.
What I’m seeing these days is a complete takeover of what I grew up with.
The compassionate conservative, which I prided myself being, has been taken over completely by a woman-hating, “Christian,” anti-choice, subtlety racist, and otherwise hateful group that seems to be wholly different from what was once called the Republican party.
Just like the Greak Auk, and the Big Mike, I think that the current GOP has taken over so completely that no one remembers that the Republican party used to be substantially different and something wholly unrelated is now known as the Republican Party.
Location: a former Masonic temple
Mood: irritated but fulla carbs so, not terrible
Music: Hey, Marianna, you gotta no banana? (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
I need to start doing these types of entries more often as I take pics of things that don’t necessarily merit their own entry but are kinda worth a mention.
For example, I gave away alla my teapots the other day – just stopped drinking hot tea.
I’ve had that blue fish teapot since Cornell, some 33 years ago so I’m a little bummed but it’s a constant battle, trying to keep this tiny apartment clutter-free.
Although, if my Amazon orders keep going as they’ve been going, that won’t be a problem.
For example, here’s some underwear I bought the other day from them.
I opened up a sealed cardboard box to find an empty bag.
How does that even happen?
The kid went off to see Alison’s parents for the long weekend recently.
When I picked him up, I stayed for dinner, which was (delicious) carb city with baked ziti and some homemade garlic bread.
After the kid got back, brought him to a place on the UWS I’d never been to for a birthday party for one of his friends that he’s known since he was like two.
Told the Firecracker we’d hit it up ourselves when the weather got warmer.
Her: That’s great, we need more places in the outside for summer. Me: Yup, they can play, we can eat and drink. Her: Perfect!
Do you know how hard it is to find a newspaper in NYC these days?
Speaking of that shoot, we banged out seven videos in day with no lunch break so I went to the bar near my pad and ordered two entrees and a beer for dinner since I was absolutely starving.
Looking forward to these Halloween videos – they’re usually pretty funny and I get to dress up in all sortsa interesting things.
Hopefully, you’ll check em out?
Location: home, making dumplings for the kid and the Firecracker’s kid
Mood: chilly
Music: We come to life when it turns dark (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Even now, they’re pretty rare because people just got used to going without.
However, the rats in NYC may change alla that.
See, Mayor Adams is convinced that the garbage – fulla food – laying around for hours overnight in plastic bags is helping the insane surge in rats in NYC.
I think he may be onto something.
One of his major plans are to deal with the obscene garbage situation in the city by:
Standardizing garbage cans for everyone in the whole city – so everyone has to get cans that look like the ones below with a lid on them.
Making everyone separate out their compostable materials.
He’d never done one before but was game to tackle it.
Unfortunately, my sink was easily 40 years old, so the drain was rusted tight.
Took us two hours just to be able to remove it, which we did with a specialized tool.
Him: Man, once we had the right tool, it came right out. Me: I remember my buddy Buckley telling me once that nothing’s ever an issue if you have the right tool.
Since this was the first time he’d ever installed one, lots of things went wrong.
Like this arm was the wrong size and leaked everywhere.
Wally planned to be here to paint and install it for about four-to-five hours but ended up staying 10 hours and had to return two days later to finally fix everything.
BUT, I have a garbage disposal now in NYC!
I think I’m gonna start running tours to show it off with a reasonable $5 admission ticket.
I’ll let you know when I roll that out.
In the meanwhile, here’s a quick time-lapse video I shot of it in action.
It’s 1.25 horsepower, which is about 5X the power of an average garbage disposal, so it chews through most anything but I’m just using fruit peels and eggshells to keep the gross factor to a minimum.
If you don’t have one, definitely consider installing one!
Location: a NYC pad WITH garbage disposal and freshly painted doors and gates
Mood: accomplished
Music: I will try to fix you (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
In the red bag that my mom brought to me while I was in Flushing was my Junior High School yearbook, that my sister found and told her to get to me.
The reason I was thrilled to get it was for one reason and one reason alone – I wanted to figure out the name of my English teacher.
See, the most influential teacher I had was a Ms. Meltzer and for years I always meant to find her and let her know that, but life got in the way.
Plus, I had no idea what her first name was.
But with the yearbook, I immediately looked for her and was disappointed to find that it only had her first initial was “B” and that led me – well, really, the Firecracker to a search and we found “Binnie Meltzer’s” obituary.
I’m certain it was her.
It made me both happy and sad; happy in that I found her, in a manner of speaking, and – of course – sad that I was too late.
She died in 2006. A lifetime ago.
She was the first teacher that I was always happy to see and that made me think that I had any type of talent for anything at all.
If she was still alive, I woulda told her what a profound and positive influence she was on me – I write because she told me once that I was a good writer and I believed her.
That’s the power of a good teacher.
Goodnight, Ms. Meltzer.
You were an amazing teacher and human, and I’m forever grateful we met.
On a much more mundane note, because of alla my injuries, my sleep’s been crap lately, so the Firecracker suggested that I get some nature – well, as much nature as NYC provides.
To that end, we had a little picnic in Central Park near Sheep’s Meadow, which was pretty great, I gotta say.
Her: Honestly, this is all I really need. My person, a picnic, a park, and my pup. Me: I could do without onea those things. Her: Oh, stop…
Location: supermarket for tea, which I forgot to buy despite it being WHY I WENT IN THE FIRST PLACE
Mood: annoyed at myself
Music: I got an open mind so, tell me where you wanna go (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
The first thing that I do every morning is down two cups of cold green tea to (a) fight cancer and (b) hydrate so I don’t have another gout attack.
Interestingly, since I’ve done this at the suggestion of my buddy Thor, I’ve not gotten a second gout attack since the first one back in March of 2021, which I’m hoping was just a one-off fluke.
In any case, while I was groggy since I just woke up, I heard a super loud POP, almost like gunshot and I swore it came from my fridge, but I didn’t see anything.
But then I looked closely a few days later and saw this in the back of my fridge.
Evidently, my fridge is too cold, and a can of soda exploded when the soda inside froze.
I’m just glad it happened while the kid was away since he’s a lot smaller than me so any potential injury woulda been lined up with his face.
Her: Do not get injured again! I wanna go out this weekend. Me: I promise nuthin.
Speaking of injuries, the past few weeks has been a series of annoying ones.
Whenever I get injured, it’s usually a white belt that has no idea what he’s doing, and I get injured.
My last injury was when a 200-pound 30-year-old former wrassler fell on me and torqued my shoulder.
Well, that was until last week, when a purple belt (essentially a level-three grappler) caught my ankle and did a belly-down ankle lock, which is one of the more dangerous ankle locks.
Then he twisted it like a nutcase within two seconds of grabbing it.
Me: Jesus! (after 10 seconds of just lying on my back trying to eat the pain) Duuuude… Him: Sorry about that. Me: You’re a purple belt? Him: Uh, yeah. Me: Dude…that was not cool.
So, I hobbled off the mat and ended up taking five days off.
But I’d promised the Firecracker we’d do something fun for the past weekend and I felt bad I kept cancelling on her.
So, I rested at home all week, icing and compressing my ankle until I felt I was good enough to head out with her over the weekend.
That pretty much says it all; evidently, if a wife gets cancer a husband is six times more likely to leave than the other way around.
Put another way, if a husband gets sick, the wife is six times more likely to stay and help while the husband is six times more likely to peace out if the wife gets sick.
What. The. Fuck.
That made me so mad that I couldn’t sleep. The inequity of it all.
I stayed for one reason alone, which was that she was my wife. We were a team. Sickness and in health and all that shit. That was the deal. And I knew, in my heart-of-hearts, that she would have done the exact same for me.
She would never have left me.
And it never once occurred to me to leave her. How could I? She needed me. Plus, she was my wife, and I loved her.
Full stop.
I’ve seen this firsthand.
Have a scumbag relative that cheated on his wife and divorced her while she had cancer.
I have zero to do with him and plan on having zero to do with him ever again.
And Newt Gingrich divorced his first wife Jackie when she had uterine cancer and his third wife Callista after she had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.
All this to say nuthin of Trump and his multiple marriages, rapes, and affairs.
Party of family values, folks.
What a fucking joke.
Think the reason this whole thing bothered me so much is that I knew how much Alison suffered with her cancer and the thought that someone out there in Alison’s situation has to deal with her same horror AND also have to deal with the pain of being tossed like a piece of garbage by the person she pledged her life to makes my blood boil.
Yet another reason why I think the less I have to do with people, the better.
I didn’t know Shannon at all but, man, no one deserves having to deal with the hassle and heartbreak of a divorce while facing death.
Case-in-point, The Firecracker pulled out a board game of Yahtzee the other day that I probably had since the 90s and yet never played.
