The Joys of Winter Driving

I'm not a big fan of the winter. I'd much rather be outside frolicking in the warm spring time air. But, as a person who's lived in the Northeast my whole life, I've learned to expect the temporary setbacks of the frigid winters.

One the main gripes that I have at this time of year is the challenges that come with driving. We all have responsibilities that require us to get from point A to point B. And most of us accomplish this seemingly uneventful task by simply getting into our vehicle and proceeding to drive it to our destination. However, winter always tends to throw us a snow-covered curveball.

The snow itself is the most obvious detriment to my winter driving experience. My slippery journey often begins before I even start my vehicle. I trek outside with a push broom firmly clutched in one hand while the other drags a snow shovel behind me. As I push the snow off of the roof of my car, a wind gust will inevitably rear it's ugly head and redistribute the snow all over mine. I instinctively throw the push broom across the driveway. After several repetitions of this, I eventually get the car cleared. With my half-frozen face and icicle-infused hair, I take on the appearance of the Snow Miser from "A Year Without a Santa Claus".

Once I finally get out on the road, a new set of problems arises. As I make my way into traffic, I am greeted with a fresh blast of road-spray. It's like nature's way of saying, "Welcome to the party!" My visibility is quickly reduced to a Stevie Wonder level. I impulsively begin to pump washer fluid onto my filthy windshield and, thankfully, I begin to see daylight again. Of course, this will only last until the next episode of road-spray comes my way. And at some point during my travel, I will run out of washer fluid. At this point, my wiper-blades' clearing ability is severely compromised and they only function to smear mud across windshield. And to make it even worse, this always seems to happen when the sun is at that perfect angle. It's bad enough that I can't see through the opaque window, but now I've got the sun glaring off it like an acetylene torch. Eventually, navigation becomes impossible and I wind up pulling over to remedy the situation. Since removing the windshield isn't a valid option, I stand on the side of the road and throw snow at it. Passing motorists gawk at me as I look like a delusional idiot having a snowball battle with my car. But nonetheless, the snow begins to melt and it slowly cleanses the muck off of the window.

As I get back into traffic, I will ultimately get behind some inconsiderate numbskull who didn't take the time or responsibility to adequately clear the snow from his car. Case in point......Coasting along at 55 mph, I finally find myself in a tranquil mood as David Gilmore plays one of those soothing Pink Floyd solos through my car stereo. And then, just as "Dark Side of the Moon" hits it's apex, my heart nearly stops as a large sheet of snow comes crashing down across my hood and windshield. It immediately makes me wonder how those folks on the Titanic felt when they hit that similarly-sized iceberg. My first reaction is to find out who caused it and chase him down. Once I caught the person, I'm not sure will would come next. But a throat-punch is certainly in order. Yeah, I know this is not a reasonable option (mainly because there's a large sheet of snow blocking my view). So, I shrug it off and, feeling like a beaten man, cautiously continue on.

When I finally make it to where I'm going, my car shows the signs of an embattled warrior. A quick survey shows a couple new dings on the hood and at least one of those little stars on the windshield. And of course, with all of the road salt clinging to it, my car looks like it just crashed into a Pablo Escobar factory.

While I may have learned to expect these types of things, it surely doesn't mean that like them. How many days is it until Spring again?

kw

The Feline Wake-Up Call

Every weekend in my bedroom, like clockwork, there's a certain ritual that occurs first thing in the morning. And, no, I'm not talking about anything that is probably flashing through your brain right now. So, get your mind out of the gutter and stay with me.....

As the sun gradually makes it's way over the horizon, I slowly come out of the previous night's slumber. I instantly recognize the sound of electrically-produced heat spilling into the chilly bedroom through a nearby vent. But what really catches my attention is our two cats, who are circling the bedroom and purring relentlessly. This is part of their orchestrated routine to signal us that they want to be fed.

The initial part of the charade usually gets little reaction from Tina nor myself. Although we're both aware of the commotion, we try our best to ignore it and go back to sleep. After all, it is 5:30 on a Saturday morning. However, the cats refuse to go down without a fight. So, the next chapter begins when they jump up on the bed. Now, keep in mind, our one cat (Lester) is quite robust. So, when he pounces on the bed, it's not always as graceful as you might expect. But what he lacks in agility, he more than makes up with determination (to be seen later).

So, with both cats now parading around the bed, their vocals take on the effect of a bad Karaoke singer. But, as hard as it is, Tina and I still try our best to ignore them. After a minute or so of being dismissed, our other cat (Lewis) progresses to the next step of the ritual. He gets right next to Tina's ear and starts making these crazy noises. It's hard to explain but it's kind of like a traditional meow coupled with the sound of a small crow. And to make things a little more confusing, he'll throw in this off-beat clicking noise similar to something you might hear from a distressed beetle.

This sequence of noises has reached the level where it can no longer be ignored. This will usually prompt Tina to come out of her night's coma and shout, "STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE" Of course, this only serves to wake me up. As I slowly regain consciousness, I subtlety catch the sideshow in the corner of my eye.

(On a side note, Tina normally defends the cats while they're breaking random objects around our house. But when they break into this primal song-and-dance routine, she finds them just as annoying as I do)

The next step begins when Lewis starts swatting at Tina's head. It's like he's playing with a mouse, except it's a human head in this case. Every now and then, one of his claws will get caught in Tina's hair. This will cause her head to be jerked sharply to one direction as Lewis attempts to free his paw. Meanwhile, Lester, the other cat, causally sits at the foot of the bed and observes as if he's watching an angler land a big fish. It's actually quite comical. But it's easy for me to find humor in it, because like Lester, I'm just a casual observer. This is where Tina usually winds up getting up and sleep-walking down to the kitchen to feed the starving cats. On most days, that's where the antics end.

However, on a rare occasion, when Lewis' efforts are futile, his big brother will jump off of the bed and take matters into his own hands. Refusing to have their food request go unfulfilled, Lester hits the bedroom floor with a ominous thud. I would describe what happens next as the calm before the storm.....

As tranquility seems to temporarily return to bedroom, Tina and I both breathe a sigh of relief as we start to drift back to sleep. Then, just when we think it's over, the room is instantly filled with a rancid stench reminiscent of  dumpster juice. From past experiences, it's quite obvious what has just happened....... Lester has dropped a deuce!

This is where I start with my morning rant, "OH, MY GOD! THAT'S NASTY! HOW CAN SOMETHING POSSIBLY SMELL THAT BAD??! I'M GONNA THROW UP! AGGHHH!"

(To enhance this whole scene, imagine "Stray Cat Strut" playing in the background)

This prompts Tina to violently toss the covers off and officially begin her day. Visibly irritated and making her way out of the room with her Medusa-like hair, she'll say, "Alright, alright! I'll feed the cats, for God's sake!"

Of course, I'll throw gas on the fire by saying, "And don't forget to pick up those milk duds that your fat-ass cat left on the carpet!"

We usually stay away from each other until the second cup of coffee kicks in. After that, we're back to normal for the day. But we both know that the bliss is short lived as Sunday morning will be here before we know it. And this routine will replay itself all over again...

Welcome to our world.....:-)

kw

Lester (front) and Lewis plotting their next move

Wandering Along in OC

Yesterday, I awoke to a brisk autumn morning in Ocean City. With the balcony door partially open, I could hear the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean. While I could have remained in this state of relaxation for infinity, the insatiable lure of brewing coffee carried me to the kitchenette. After a few cups of the liquid accelerant, I was ready to take on the day.

After a brief planning session, we decided that we would hit some of the local watering holes. While some people might be content with just one, I like to go with the "variety is the spice of life" approach. Not knowing the exact quantity of libations that awaited us, we decided to use public transportation (known to the locals as "the drunk bus") to get us from point A to all points beyond.

As we boarded the bus, the driver warned about the rowdy group of senior citizens who were already on-board. They were loud and obnoxious and I knew immediately that we would get along just fine. I would have loved to have knocked back a few pints with them. But they were running late for a Bingo convention or something.

Anyway, the first stop on our day's journey brought us to The Ocean City Brewing Company. The large open room was filled with people watching various college football games. When we sat down at the bar, the bartender immediately handed us a beer list. Here was a man who fully understood the concept of prioritizing. I ordered one of the house IPA's while Tina and Toni ordered fruit-infused girly beers. My brother-in-law, John, was still feeling the effects of the night before, so he stuck with straight-up Coca-Cola.

A few things seemed a bit unique or odd to me. For instance, I noticed one of the other bartenders was wearing a Pickle's Pub t-shirt. Advertising for the competition is usually frowned upon. But maybe they had a connection? And speaking of t-shirts, I saw one in the gift shop that I really liked. However, they only had sizes small and medium. How many beer drinkers do you know that can fit into anything smaller than an XL?

The men's room also had it's own peculiarity. The urinals were made from metal beer kegs. It was actually a pretty cool idea. I really wanted to snap a photo of them. But I realized that it might look a little odd to the rest of the guys in the room.

We finished up and took a ride down to M.R. Ducks where they were having their season-closing party. It was a pretty good crowd there already and they band had just started playing. They were pretty good. They played a few Talking Heads songs, which is something you don't hear that often. We had a couple of light beers and some chicken wings before shuffling off to our next stop.

We walked a short distance over to the Cork Bar. As we approached the door, we were met by a Great Dane who was the size of a small horse. He was very friendly. His owner informed us that he had a thing for the bar's french fries. No doubt, this dog could have put a dent in a sack of potatoes. Once inside, we grabbed a round of light beers. By this time, John had shaken off the cobwebs and joined us in our libations. We wound up shooting a game of pool which only reminded me of how much I suck at it.

Moving on, we pulled into Pickle's Pub. I was almost expecting the bartender to be wearing a OC Brewing Company shirt, but it never happened. We ordered a round of beers and made some new friends. A nice woman across the bar greeted us with a round of pickle shots. I'm not really crazy about these things (which basically consist of vodka and dill pickle juice). I didn't want to seem ungrateful so I threw the shot back like a boss. I instinctively jerked me head to the right as the sensation of dill pickles exploded over my taste buds.

As the pickle taste slowly dissipated, an argument broke out between one of the bartenders and a group of middle-aged men behind us. I'm not sure what it was about but it got pretty heated. Can't we all just get along?

After settling up at Pickle's, we made our way up to Lombardi's. The day's events produced an usual craving for pizza. Maybe we just needed an abundance of carbohydrates to soak up the beer, I dunno. But the pizza here is always good and it did not disappoint this time. This was our last stop of the day and we made the short trek back to the hotel and called it a night.

So, today we have nothing to do and all day to do it. These days don't come to me that often anymore. So, I'm really looking forward to it. Have a great day, my friends!

kw

Sundays Without Football

There was a time, not so long ago. where my Sundays were occupied with feast, frolic and ample libation. But, as fun as it was, I really didn't get a whole lot accomplished (Unless, of course, you consider gnawing on chicken wings and guzzling beers is an accomplishment). Since I stopped watching NFL games a few weeks ago, my productivity level has increased dramatically.

For instance, on my first Sunday without football (from here on out, this will be referred to as SWF), I closed my swimming pool. Normally, I would pay a pool company $300-350 to do this. But with my newly found day of freedom, I decided to close my pool myself this year (with the generous help of my brother-in-law).

The second SWF brought me an opportunity to catch up on my neglected yard work. Normally, I wait until the HOA knocks on my door. But now that I have Sundays free, I ride around on my lawn tractor like I'm John Deere himself. (OK, I actually have a Craftsman lawn tractor but who's keeping score?). Additionally, I had a chainsaw that was striving for attention for the longest time. So, I found the time to fine tune it and I now have it purring like a rabid kitten.

Mixed in with everything else, SWF has also opened up the door for more Sunday tennis. I'm no longer rushing off the court on Sundays to make it home by kickoff. While the NFL players are taking a knee, I'm working the bugs out of my recently repaired knee.

All of this has created a positive side effect: weight loss. In the past three weeks, I'm down about 10 pounds. This is, no doubt, the result of an increased activity level coupled with the absence of traditional fried football food and adult beverages. The most strenuous activity during a football game usually involved me walking to the refrigerator for a fresh Landshark.

I thought SWF would be a tough pill to swallow. But, to be quite honest with you, I really don't miss it that much. My work schedule has consumed the majority of my free time during the week. So, it's actually nice to have a full Sunday to catch up on things. Or on the rare occasion when I'm "choreless", it's nice to have the day to just kick back and watch "Breaking Bad" reruns.

Although it seems rather silly now, I used to actually plan things around the Raven's season schedule. Not anymore. Now, game day has the same emotional attachment as Arbor Day to me. I think the smart people would refer to this as apathy. But this isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Looking at my current situation, I kinda wish the NFL would have pissed me off years ago!

kw

Taking A Knee

Yesterday morning, I pulled myself out of bed and groggily made my way to the kitchen coffee pot. While catching up on some job-related paperwork, I downed three cups of the mental stimulant. I was almost fully awake as the 9:30 kickoff approached between the Ravens and Jaguars. I prepared the finishing touches on my Fan Duel entries for the day and then kicked back in my recliner.

As "The Star Spangled Banner" emerged from the PA system at London's  Wembly Stadium, the TV cameras began to pan around to the sidelines of both teams. And then I saw what I was desperately hoping not to see. Several of the players on both teams were taking a knee. As the camera focused in on the Ravens sideline, it showed that former Raven, Ray Lewis, was taking two knees. (Kind of ironic that a guy who was involved in the double murder of two young black men is protesting brutality against young black men).

Before I go any further, let me throw out this disclaimer: I fully support the right for any American to peacefully protest. However, it doesn't mean that I have to agree with or like it.

This whole kneeling during the Anthem thing is a very sensitive subject for many people. I personally still get goosebumps every time I hear "The Star Spangled Banner". So, it shouldn't come as a surprise that it pisses me off when I see anyone intentionally sitting it out. I don't know, maybe I've got emotional issues. But I can't help the way I feel.

Supporters of the "kneel-down" will say that I'm missing the main point. To be fair, it's kind of hard to keep track of any point in this modern "controversy-du-jour" society. But from what I recall, this whole thing started with 49er's quarterback, Colin Kaepernick, taking a knee to protest police brutality against blacks. Personally, I think this narrative has been fueled by the media (aka Fake News) to generate the reactions we're seeing today. For instance, last year, twice as many whites were killed by police. But, in an effort to paint their own story, we're fed this narrative that the police are targeting only innocent young black men. The root of the problem is more complex, so it's largely ignored. Instead, the low-hanging fruit is picked and the police become the scapegoat for the problems in the black community. (I'm sorry, what was the main point again?)

I've talked about police brutality in the past. In a nut shell, I don't support rogue cops who take the law into their own hands. I have heard the first hand stories from people (mostly white, as shocking as that may sound) who have been roughed up by police. I'm not denying that it happens. However, I also believe that the overwhelming majority of cops are good people who perform a thankless but stellar job. But the stories of heroics and good things don't sell quite as well as the race-baiting ones.

Aside from all of this, sports and entertainment are supposed to give us a much needed break from all of the bullshit going on in the world. So, when I tune into a football game. the only thing that I want to anger me is a bad call by the ref or perhaps Joe Flacco's inability to scramble out of the pocket. But if my blood pressure is already at it's limit before kickoff, I think I'll have to pass.

Most NFL owners have come out in support of the protests. They almost have to put on a happy face and take the politically correct approach here. But you know damn well, that behind closed doors, they're fuming! In the upcoming days, they'll try their best to control the damage to their disgruntled fan base. But is it too late? Time will tell.

I feel bad for the potential impact that this is going to have on small business. The boycott of the NFL will ultimately affect bars, merchandisers and even grocery stores. Sunday football is a big deal for many of these folks. If the crowd dries up, it's inevitably going to affect their bottom line. But what do the players care? They've already got their millions.

This latest sideshow is being presented as a retaliatory jab at the President. Some may even say it's a "teaching moment". But when you take a knee during your country's national anthem in a foreign country, I see more as a Dixie Chicks moment.

Football has no doubt brought me some great times through years. But good things sometimes have to come to an end. So, to the NFL...........While I fully support your right to protest, I respectfully disagree with the manner in which you've chosen to do so. So, as we part ways, I ask you to give me the same courtesy while I take a knee on you...

kw

Remembering Dad on Father's Day

After taking countless training classes in different parts of the country over the past 25+ years, this is the first time I wound up in North Carolina. So, on the morning of my first Father's Day since my Dad's passing, I ironically find myself sitting in a hotel room in Raleigh, a short distance from his hometown of Winston-Salem

Making small talk with some of the locals in the hotel lobby, their heavy southern drawls and friendly demeanor instantly made me think of my Dad. These memories kicked into high gear when I passed a beverage refrigerator in the hotel gift shop. Through the glass door, I saw a bottle of Cheerwine. I didn't know that they even made this stuff anymore. When I was a kid, every summer my Dad would take us to North Carolina to visit the relatives. On the way there , we would inevitably stop at a gas station or convenience store. My Dad would fish some spare change out of his pocket and send me over to the the soda machine. I would consider the usual Coke and Pepsi options. But almost always, I would hit the Cheerwine button. I haven't had one of these things in decades but it's comforting to know that it's still out there.

The effect of not having my father here today is quite heavy. I miss his rants about the Ravens. I miss seeing him shuffle though his newspaper clippings. I miss watching him come unglued and saying, "Dammit Kenny, you're missing my point!". I miss his impromptu lectures on the art of lawn mower repair (I used to love the way he referred to a carburetor as a "cobberator").  I miss his spontaneous visits to my house via his beloved Chevy pick-up truck. And I especially miss the family dinners at his house on Tuesday nights.  

Dad gave me plenty of good advice through the years. But there are two pieces that come immediately to mind. When I was younger (and much more hard-headed), he told me that you can't learn anything while you're lips are moving. He also told me that if you don't make mistakes, you're not doing much. They sounded kind of crazy back then, but I eventually figured out what he was trying to say.

As I progress through this day, I'll be thinking of my father often. I'm sure I'll get a little emotional at times. But I'll also be doing a lot of grinning as I remember all those great times that made him so special. I've accepted the fact that I'll never see him again. But he will always live in my heart through all of the memories. I plan to toast him later with that cold bottle of Cheerwine. Until then....Happy Father's Day, Dad.

kw

Stevie Nicks - Baltimore 2017

A couple weeks ago, Tina and I ventured into Baltimore city to catch Stevie Nicks and The Pretenders at the Royal Farms Arena (At the risk of showing my age, I still catch myself calling it the Baltimore Civic Center). After parking the car, we made our way over to the arena. A slight mist greeted us along the way. This caused Tina to go into a bit of a panic. You see, she had to look perfect for Stevie and the moisture in the air was putting that scenario in serious jeopardy. Frizzy hair in the presence of Stevie would be absolutely devastating! So, left in the elements without the aid of an umbrella, I pretended to be a gentleman and walked in front of her in an effort to absorb as much of the mist as possible.

Entering the arena, we observed several middle-aged women dressed in lacy outfits and fancy top-hats. Their laborious attempts to emulate Stevie Nicks was duly noted. With this being said, I didn't see a whole lotta representation from the Chrissy Hynde crowd (for those who don't know, she is the lead singer for The Pretenders). I guess it was fitting since, a short time later, we were informed that Chrissy was sick and The Pretenders would not be performing at this show. There was some disappointment but Tina saw it as an opportunity to spend more time with Stevie.

Now, to say Tina is obsessed with Stevie Nicks is an understatement. Anytime "Edge of Seventeen" comes across the radio, Tina responds as if she just hit the Mega-Millions. Knowing that she's heard the song no less than 15,034 times, I ask her if it ever gets old. She just gives me a cold stare and says, "Of course, not! It's Stevie!"

Inside the venue, we take our seats. We have a pretty good vantage point in the middle of the floor section. We are soon greeted by three women from Pennsylvania who take the seats next to us. One of the women tells Tina that she was really disappointed that The Pretenders won't be preforming. Tina tells her that she's actually glad because she doesn't care much for Chrissy Hynde and that she's only there to see Stevie. Oh boy, it never ends.......

Well, the show starts around 8 o'clock. This particular tour centered around songs that were "kept in the vault" throughout Stevie's career. Although she would still play her popular songs, there would also be a lot of obscure songs. While I was hearing many of the songs for the first time, Tina knew every word to them. In between songs, Stevie spent a lot of time telling stories and talking about the meanings behind the songs. As a bit of a storyteller myself, I really enjoyed this part of the show.

As I surveyed the crowd, it was interesting to see how the dynamic has changed through the years. The images of drunk, rowdy kids had progressed to quiet, middle-aged folks, many using canes to make their way to their seats. At one point, I thought I smelled a hint of medicinal marijuana smoke but I couldn't be sure.

Perhaps the most dramatic image of age contrast came about mid-way through the concert. There was a small commotion in the aisle just to the right of our seats. I walked towards the aisle to see what was going on. I saw a husky woman flailing her arms like a traffic cop. She was telling everyone to be careful where they walked. Trying to figure out what was going on, I asked her, "What's going on?"

She pointed to the floor but it was dark. It was so dark so I couldn't really see what was down there. Then, one of the ushers came over and put a flashlight on the area. It was the upper plate of someone's dentures!

That's right, someone dropped their teeth!

I have been to many, many shows. I have seen people lose their phones. I have seen people lose their tempers. I have seen drunken people lose their balance. And I have even seen a few uninhibited women lose their tops. But up until this point, I have never seen someone lose their dentures.

Moving on......

The show overall was very enjoyable. Stevie Nicks seemed to be in an especially good mood. This projected a positive vibe throughout the crowd. When she introduced "Gold Dust Woman" (my personal favorite), the anticipation was more than Tina could handle. She made her predictable bee-line towards the front of the stage. Having been in this situation many times before, I just causally waved to her as she rolled out. My only wish is that the night doesn't end with me shelling out bail money.

Watching Stevie perform "Gold Dust Woman" is worth the price of admission. The song is very thought-provoking has a certain eeriness to it. But the passion that Stevie adds to the live performance takes it to another level. If I feel this way about it, I can only imagine the way Tina is feeling. She's probably near a state of hypnosis at this point.

After an extended encore, the show ended around 10:30. As the house lights came on, I saw Tina making her way back to our seats. She told me that she got right up front for a few songs and shared a special moment with Stevie. I'm not really sure what that means. And I'm not really sure that I want to know. But nonetheless, it was a really good show. Tina's "Stevie fix" was satisfied for the night. And as a bonus, the rain had given way to a pleasant evening for our walk back to the parking garage....

kw