Three Hour Tour...

I'm hoping the last week of St Louis Cardinals baseball is a bad dream.  You know the kind where you fall hopelessly and you die when you hit the ground.  But you never do.  I'm hoping they wake up to find them still alive in October.  But I'm not holding out much hope.  Join me over here for my latest diatribe.

Again I have to apologize for not making the rounds.  Sleep has still been claiming my nights after (and sometimes before) the kids go to bed.  I visited with my doctor last week and he said I have a classic case of sleep apnea.  Unfortunately, because of my health insurance, I need to see a pulmonary specialist who can then recommend a sleep study.  In a best-case scenario, I'll see relief just before Thanksgiving.  I just hope I don't turn into Rip Van Winkle before then.  The good news is that Prudence is just a week away from receiving her CPAP machine as a result of her sleep study.  She had one night with one in her follow-up test and said she felt like a new woman.  Well, I kind of like the current woman she is, but if it means she'll be awake more, maybe it'll be worth it.

In other news, my dad and I are at odds.  I had to make a tough phone call 3 weeks ago about an issue he's been dealing with for almost 2 years.  Its a pretty serious one.  If the other party weren't as nice and kind, he could be facing some serious legal issues.  But it came to a head and I had to confront him with it.  I lost my cool and said some things that I wish I could take back.  What's worse is that this issue is now the "elephant in the room" that I can't ignore anymore, even tho he can.  I can't call and make small talk with him anymore with the feelings I have burning inside me.  So I haven't called him.  I emailed him this weekend with an apology and an explanation for my absence on the phone.  He replied, barely acknowledging either.  So, when I'm not sleeping, I'm worried about our relationship.  This has done wonders for my life with Prudence and the kids - not.  Before you ask, I am seeking professional counselling.  Please be praying for us.

Sorry to leave on a downer note, but sometimes that's where you're at and it can't be helped.  Just like the "elephant" with my dad, I can't come here and pretend it's all rosey.  But I'm not looking for any pity, either.  Only prayers.  It's the only thing you can do.  And it means everything to me.

Thanks for listening.

...and for once I'm not, so I've got a chance to blog while I watch one of my favorite martial arts films - Kill Bill Vol 1.  Incredible outlandish action and great music. "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" would be my walkup music if I were in the Major Leagues.  Actually, I think I may like Vol 2 better - the casket scene, Daryl Hannah losing another eye, and the five-point-palm-exploding-heart punch had me yellin' out loud!

Anyway, check out our most recent purchase over here while I take some time to do some blogwalking.  I've been able to keep up with most of you via RSS feeds (yeah,Sue, you caught me "lurking"), but I haven't had the chance to do much commenting.  You guys have some great stuff out there!  So hopefully I'll be able to leave my mark this evening.  But if you don't hear from me, don't think that I don't care.  It's probably because I've fallen asleep...

Have a great weekend, all!

Tagged by SomedayQuilter some time ago.  Bet you thought I forgot about it!  Nope, but I'm sure it took the place of something else in my brain - something else I was supposed to do.  Like pick up the kids somewhere.  But I'm sure I'll remember it later...as if!

Name 5 things in your freezer.

• Flip-Flop Waffles - everytime I make them for the kids I think of this SNL Skit
• Ballpark Franks Grillmaster Hotdogs - best when made with saurekraut and sauted onions
• Chimichangas
• A few quarts of blackberries (note to self: ask Panda to make us a pie!)
• 60-some bags of the best sweet corn in the world

Name 5 things in your closet.

• A Sportscoat I wear only for weddings or other special occasions
• 7 pairs of jean shorts that I wear throughout the year
• 3-4 pairs of jeans I wear only when I have to
• 7-8 pairs of Dockers and at least twice as many shirts I wear to work
• A 9 cubic foot safe that is FULL with my father in law's coin collection.  Why we have it?  I don't know...

Name 5 things on your desk (only 5 things?).

• Bills
• A refridgerator magnet of Elvis
• More CDs/DVDs than I can count
• Ink cartridges for recycling
• Miscellaneous change

Name 5 things in your vehicle.

• Shark-boy action figure
• Various receipts from Walmart, gas stations, and bank ATMs - all "filed" throughout the car
• Badge for work
• XM radio
• 10-12 salt packets from McDonalds - next to movie popcorn, its the best

Name 5 things in your wallet (sorry, I'm secure in my manhood, but not ready to carry a man bag yet).

• 37¢ stamp - it might be in here awhile...
• Picture of the wife and kids taken on our first trip to South Padre Island
• 2 Zorba's cards - 5 stamps get you a free gyro!  One filled.  One with 2 stamps to go.
• A speeding ticket from 3 years ago that's supposed to remind me to slow down. Yeah, right.
• A prayer list

Aynde, I know you'll want to do this one.  Michelle & Weimie, why don't you give it a go as well!

• "Bubbles" for "Nemo"
• "August 29th" for "August 9th"
• "15th toss" for "20th toss"
• "The Boy" for "Em"

Bubbles - July ??, 2006 - August 29th, 2006

 
Stock Photo - May Not Actually Be Bubbles

I love it when life imitates the movies, especially when it's one so shagadelic!  Next, this guy will be wondering if the female security guard is a man, baby!

Click here for the details...

Note:  Caveat Reader!  Let the Reader beware!  I feel a rambling post coming on.  This topic has too many tentacles to my past for me not to get wrapped up in a number of them.  Hopefully it will be an enjoyable read.  It's a story I love to tell, especially on this day - the anniversary of the event - but I've never written it down before.  When I tell it, I feed off the comments of others to make it more entertaining, usually in a self-deprecating way.  But none of you are here as I write, so I'll have to draw on past experiences of telling the tale.  My good friend Ed is the one I like to tell it around most.  He shares my appreciation for one of the items involved, and he has the keen ability to make me laugh hard at my moronic behavior.  I also like to remember my mom in this pose.  It's how I picture her uttering her "lines", and it makes me feel warm inside

See, lots of tentacles, and I haven't even started.  Don't say I didn't warn you...

It was the summer of 1977 and I discovered the drug culture.  No, not like that.  In the safest way you can - by comedy.  One afternoon, a guy 3 years my senior played his Cheech & Chong album collection for his brothers, his cousin (my neighbor), and me.  And we were addicted.  We began listening to them over and over, trying not only to memorize each line, but to emulate the voices of Pedro and Man, Ralph and Herbie, Sister Mary Elephant, Sgt Stedenko, Cheborneck, Basketball Jones, and of course, Dave.  To this day, if anyone asks for a "Dave", my mind immediately repeats "Daves not here."  Sometimes it comes out of my mouth.  I find that I have to explain the bit more and more as the years pass.  Thankfully Tommy Chong has made appearances in "That 70's Show" that make it easier to relate to the younger crowd (yes, I'm talking about you, Rudiger).

But meeting in the guy's house became old - and we worried that parents would listen to the records and ban them for their promotion of drugs, sex, and rock 'n roll.  So we devised a plan to record the albums on cassette tapes that we could take anywhere.  Unfortunately none of us had a stereo system, much less one that played LPs AND recorded stuff directly to tape.  We weren't rich, you know.  But I had a record player, similar to the one shown here, and access to a microphone and a Panasonic tape recorder via my dad's work.  I could do the recording and bring the player out to the street corner of an evening so that we could listen and learn.

Now I had to find a good time to record.  The room/house had to be relatively quiet and free from parental involvement.  Mornings were out - too many good game shows on (Card Sharks, The Price is Right, High Rollers, etc.).  Evenings wouldn't work - either I'd be outside hangin' out with the kids in the neighborhood, or I'd be watching great 70s TV, in all of it's 3 network + PBS glory.  Afternoons would work best.  Dad would be on the road, and Mom would be locked in on her soap operas, sitting in her favorite chair usually bundled up with an afgan my sister made for me when I was about 10.  "All My Children" was on from 11am-12pm, "As The World Turns" from 1:130am-12:30pm (yeah, I know they overlap, but she'd usually choose "World" over "Children" - she could always catch up tomorrow on one or the other), and "Guiding Light" from 2-3pm.  She used the 12:30-2pm time period to do chores around the house - especially the vacuuming.  So really 2-3pm was prime time for recording.  And before I'd begin, I'd tell her what I was doing so that she might make less noise.

So one August day - this day - I was setting up to record.  Can't remember if it was Big Bamboo or Sleeping Beauty.  Doesn't really matter - they're all good.  I had the record player and tape recorder on the floor with the mic sitting next to the speaker.  I limited my walking so as not to cause it to skip.  If one occurred, I'd have to start again and I'd lose valuable time.

At about 2:20pm, I hear Mom's voice yelling for me from the living room.  Now, you have to know my mom to know that you couldn't ignore her call.  It was high pitched with a little lilt to it.  She somehow managed to add a second syllable to "Chris" that drove me nuts as a kid.  Often when I'd be outside playing at a friend's house on another block I could here her cry as clear as if she were standing right next to me.  Uncanny. 

But I was in the middle of a "session".  Do I answer her and risk ruining the recording and losing time?  Do I ignore her and hope she quits after 2-3 calls, thinking I may be outside or asleep?  I couldn't get up to go to her because I'd risk skippage.  What if, after failing to hear from me, she comes to investigate?  What if she hears one of the routines?  She'd already made me take down my Farrah Fawcett poster.  What would she do with these tapes?  As all this was running thru my head, I make the call to answer her in as short and quiet response as I knew how.

"Yeah?"  I answered in the shortest, pimply-est voice I had at the time (maybe still do?), deflecting the sound away from the record player.  My hope now was that it was some instruction rather than a question that I might have to give a long response to.  She came back with one sentence I can still here to this day.

"Elvis Presley died."

At 13 I was not a big Elvis fan.  Sure, I had a healthy respect for who he was and what he represented but I really knew him from the movies Channel 3 would show on "Dialing for Dollars" at 3pm - "Spinout", "Roustabout", "Blue Hawaii", etc.  The music was fun, the girls were hot, and the settings were usually cool.  Far from the rock icon he really should have been.  But Mom knew this was a big moment in the entertainment world, and she thought I should know.

But I was recording Cheech and Chong!  "Dave" wasn't there!  Billy was about to get turned in to Sgt Stedenko!  The stuff he gave Pedro "couldn't get a fly high".  It was hilarious!  And I didn't want to miss any of it!  So I answered her.

"Okay."

That seemed to satisfy her, as I didn't hear anything more...

I would listen to the tape later and here the following exchange over top of the jocularity:

"Chri-is" (muffled but audible)

"Yeah?"

"........." (not as clear, but I knew what she said)

"Okay."

A few days after his death, Mom and I were traveling to Decatur for an orthodontist appointment.  The radio was still buzzing about the death of the King.  It was then I started to grip what the loss meant - to an industry, to a generation, and to a nation.

When I listened to the tape I thought of that day.  Sometime in high school I lost track of the tape, but never the memory.  I'd tell the story whenever Elvis was brought up in conversation.  A few years ago, when Ed and I returned to our Cheech and Chong roots and bought all their stuff still in print, I remembered the tape with each track played.  So imagine my surprise when I found this buried in the rubble that was my room:

I couldn't wait to get in my car that night and play it tape deck!  To hear my mom yell again.  To hear my stupid responses.  To reconnect.

I wish I had a happy ending to this find.  The tape had been reused.  Gone were the voices.  Worse yet, they were replaced by a episode of Mork and Mindy (what was I thinking???)  My only hope is that this isn't the tape I'm looking for.  Maybe its out there, still in a box I have yet to unpack.  Maybe its in the box of "college stuff" I have in my basement.  Wherever it is - if it still "is" - it will now be my "holy grail".  Or should I call it my own "Zapruder film".  One day it will surface.  And when it does, I'll laugh like a pimply 13 year old and think of Mom...

So tell me: where were you when Elvis died?

File Photo - May Not Be Nemo

Nemo, beloved first pet of Em 3HourTour, was found dead in his fish bowl just after 7pm August 9th, 2006. Funeral services were conducted around the hallway toilet in the 3HourTour home, as per the wishes of his family. His interment is the village sewer system.

No foul play was suspected.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the charity of the donor's choice.

He is survived by bowlmate, Bubbles.

Nemo's life is a pond-to-pool story. While details of his birth and early life are not known, it was suspected that he was born and raised in a fishery, destined to be bait for tourists on a party boat in the Gulf of Mexico. But as luck would have it, he was rescued from that life to one just slightly better - 2nd prize in the ping-pong ball toss game at county/state fairs. He lived in a Coleman cooler with several hundred other "prizes" for several weeks during the hot Midwest USA Summer. However, his luck would change August 3rd, when Em would win him on her 20th toss at the McLean County Fair. He was brought home to live the life of a king in a 3/4 gallon fish bowl filled with neon rocks and sea shells, 2 meals a day, and fresh water every other day.

His hobbies included breathing and swimming circles around his bowl.

He was adored by Em to the very end.