Me & The DMV

This morning I went to the DMV. The DMV here really pushes its online presence and after today, I understand why. Unfortunately for me, I had let my license expire, so I couldn’t renew over the internet. Also unfortunately, an expired license is not a good thing, so I had to get it renewed quickly.

The office opened at 8, and while I was expecting to have to wait, I was not expecting the line to be so deep when I arrived at 7:45. The parking lot was nearly full and the sidewalk was overloaded. At around 9 o’clock, I finally got to the front of the line (to get a ticket to wait further) and was told I didn’t have everything I need. I headed home to grab my passport, which says nothing about me living in Virginia , and headed back to wait in line again. At least, I had no where important to be.

The line was only about half as long, but I was going to have to wait in it again. Not long after I arrived, an old man arrived. He had his thin white hair combed neatly in place and his face was covered by a handful of liver spots. His striped shirt was tucked severely into his striped pants that looked more like pajama pants than dress pants. His pants were, you guessed it, pulled up to his chest.

The young man in front of me offered to switch spots in line with him that the old man accepted with a smile and then joked “I don’t look that old do I?” I offered to switch spots with him myself and the two of us talked for a brief minute. I told him this was my second time waiting in line, and he told me he always brings everything he might need with him to the DMV and raised a tidy little stack of papers. I would have enjoyed talking to him longer, but the young security guard offered to usher him to the front of the line. Senior citizen privilege I guess. I think he was more surprised than anyone. You know those senior citizens, too… always in a rush to get stuff done.

I got to the front of the line where I got my ticket, B38, and camped out by the far wall. I spotted the old man chatting with someone in the seats. I kept my eye on him and watched him struggle to stand when his number was called. He laughed aloud at himself for this and again when his number was repeated over the loud speaker because it took him a minute to get there. I watched him quickly go through the transaction at the teller.

Like me, it appeared he was just renewing his license. I was stunned, however, when this old man removed his glasses before his eye exam. Admittedly, this gave me hope, as I had my glasses in my pocket, trying to quickly strengthen and adjust my eyes so that I too could pass without the aid of eyeglasses. No such luck though, as I waited patiently looking through the machine for my teller to flash the numbers before I realized that I just couldn’t see the numbers that were up there.

Then my teller convinced me that I had filled out the form wrong by reversing the numbers in my street address. The numbers above my front door. The numbers on all my mail. The numbers at which I live. She convinced me that I did not know my own address, and now I’m getting a license made with the wrong address. This is true. In her defense, my old license that I got when I moved, only a year ago, had the wrong address on it, which would be my fault.

So to recap: let’s compare the old man at the DMV and me. Which one did not have all the necessary paperwork the first time through? Which one apparently has better eyesight? Which one presumably knows where he lives? Which one is not easily influenced or corrected into making the wrong choice? And, who got bumped to the front of the line?

I’m waiting for my chance to skip to the front of the line, unfortunately that could take fifty-some years. I have a feeling though the wait is much better than that of the DMV.

More Good Clean Fun

My soon to be world famous video Coin Pusher (hopefully it's appeal will continue after YouTube approves it ad-worthy) was first introduced here on this blog under the title "Good Clean Fun." (Oops. That's actually Fun and Prizes, here's Good Clean Fun about looking at barnyard animals - maybe this post is poorly conceived.) This weekend I found more Good Clean Fun at the Charles Town Racetrack.

I'm not all that into horses. And I'm not a big race fan. But somehow, the marriage of the two creates the perfect blend. It's so intense, yet leisurely. So uppity, yet common. So confusing, yet simple.
When I first walked up to the track and heard the surprisingly loud thundering sound of the horses racing past, I knew I would love the horses. When I saw the lay-out of the indoor stands with tables and giant windows and computer gambling station, I knew I would love the betting. And when I saw all the old men sporting suspenders and fancy hats, I knew I would fit in perfectly.
I'm trying to find the right way to sum all this up, but I think the best way is to say that it's just good clean fun. We had so much fun on Sunday, we ended up going back on Monday! You can't get enough fun.

Charles Town, WV is famous for their horse track, which now includes slot machines. Slot machines are most definitely not good clean fun. Twenty bucks at a slot machine might last you 30 minutes. Twenty bucks at the race track could last three or four races, unless you're really unlucky. Charles Town is currently adding table games to open soon. Twenty bucks is barely enough to start playing craps, and it could disappear in one throw of the dice. That's just bad and dirty, albeit it can be really fun.

The upcoming table games was also my justification for going a second day in a row. Maybe we can get this out of our system before a trip to the races could get dangerous.

Finally, Some Recognition

It’s been almost two years since I met my first, and only, coin pusher. In a testament to my greatness and forward-thinking, that momentous event was caught on film.

Over sixteen-thousand views later (I was a little shocked by that one), it looks like I may just walk away with some money after all. That’s right, I’ve brought so much traffic to the good folks at YouTube that they’ve asked to advertise specifically through me. My ship has finally come in! And it’s about time, because my tip jar’s not bringing in the big bucks that it used to.

YouTube amazes me. I’ve added my fair share of videos, and a few of them are still viewed somewhat frequently and I even get a comment every week or so. I mean, besides the Coin Pusher, it seems people just cannot get enough of Jack LaLanne’s Power Juicer Pro! (Holy Canolies! This has over fifteen thousand views!)

I know I got enough of it though, as I still blame it for this. It really did change my life!

And who could forget this gem from the winter of 2008?

It made its way to some ab-cruncher website and got far more hits (just 51! I'm disappointed!) than it deserves.

I’m waiting for Pass the Pigs to be the next big breakout fad.

It occurred to me that I’m missing out on a prime advertisement for me here at the Muted Guerrilla. Perhaps, I should have an intro that says, “The Muted Guerrilla Proudly Presents:” and do some fancy editing like in this video.

I think that would be brilliant.

The Simple Life

That last post got me thinking about a movie I saw recently. No Impact Man is a documentary about a man’s, along with his wife and toddler, attempt to live a full year with making as little impact on the environment as possible.

It starts out with them giving up elevators and eating out and by the end of the year, they’d spent six months without electricity and even longer without toilet paper! There was no mention of what they smelled like by the end.

While their experiment was a bit extreme, it all made me think. Like, why am I using disposable razors? How cool would I be if I could shave with an old-timey straight edge blade… I don’t even know what they’re called! I could spread the shaving cream with a little brush, all the while wearing my white undershirt and khaki suspenders! It would be great.

And why am I driving twenty some miles to work each day? Why can’t I catch the trolley while I hold onto my hat or maybe ride my mule to work? “Whoa, Gordon!” I would say, because he would surely be going much too fast. Or wait, it’s 2010, shouldn’t I be vaporizing from place to place by now. Maybe I should just think about being at work and then I’d be there.

I guess all of this is to say, I’m ready for the simple life. Move me to the country, because I want some dirt under my nails and sun on my neck. I want to wake up with the sun and enjoy the dark night full of distant stars. I want to unplug the TV, the radio, and maybe even the internet. I want to take the ringer out of my phone. I could then enjoy greeting the mailman each day, who would bring me contact from the outside world and undoubtedly, tidings of good cheer. Then he would be off to the next house, some 40 acres away.

Maybe all this has gotten a bit extreme. But if I stop and think, I do feel quite a bit gluttonous and destructive, like the mess around me is my responsibility. If I could just get a camera crew to catch my good deeds, I would be in business!

Kids These Days!

So, it’s Monday, May 24, 2010 and I just turned on the air conditioner. It’s been rainy and damp the past few days, and the weatherman says it’s going to be downright hot in the next few days. Tomorrow it’s supposed to be close to 90; by Thursday it’s going to get over 90. The weekend should be cooler but rainy and damp again.

Turning on the AC always reminds me of when I was a kid. I didn’t have control of the thermostat then, but even if I did, I knew the rules. The AC does not turn on until either the third consecutive day when the temperature topped 90 degrees or the Fourth of July, whichever came first… although I do have sweaty memories of July 4th too. And I knew not to break those rules.

It was always great when it kicked on too. It would be the second or third ungodly hot Saturday of the season. I would be covered in sweat, still half asleep, still half-covered by a thin bedsheet, when I would hear the powerful roar of the air conditioner awaken from its hibernation. Then I would feel the cool air blowing through the vents. Then my Dad would call up, “Make sure all the windows are closed. I just turned the AC on.” In my mind, I’d have all the windows in the whole house slammed shut in thirty seconds flat.

Oh, good times. But the real part of the story is that we roughed through quite a bit. The air conditioner was a luxury - even growing up in the Georgia heat! - whereas now, we’re not even through with May and the AC’s already up and running. There is a threat of warmer weather in the near future. We had better be prepared! Don’t worry, the Weather Channel updates the forecast every 10 minutes, we can track the heat outside from the comfort of our climate-controlled home.

It all makes me want to say “these kids don’t know how good they have it!” except there aren’t any kids to blame. My intern Jeff has been pretty vocal about it though; that guy, all he ever does is complain. I'm still waiting on that new layout too.

Regardless, I still plan to brave the weather five days a week to enjoy my Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich in the shade by the lake, with just the shy and gentle breeze to keep me cool.

Hat Rack

My wife took this picture of the front yard used in the previous post. She took it the day after the planting, immediately after work. If you study it closely, as I’m sure my many devotees have, you’ll find something exciting and far too uncommon, a package resting by the door.

As exciting as packages through the mail are, this one is particularly exciting. It’s a hat rack! I’ve wanted an old-timey coat rack for a long time, but after this past Christmas, the coat rack that I wanted became the hat rack that I needed. Tiff’s family, quite unlike my own, relies upon the Christmas wish list to fill the bottom of the Christmas tree. So, apparently – I have only a vague memory of this – when Tiff asked me what I wanted for Christmas, my reply went something like, “Hats. Let’s see what kind of hats everyone gets me.”

At the time, this seemed like an innocent joke and an admittedly distracted answer, but it turned out to be a pretty cool request. Here are a few of the hats I collected. The classic fedora: The Chinese hat, I’m not sure if there’s a real name for these: And the Scout Leader hat:

They’re all so cool in their own ways. I also got a coon skin hat, but I need to find it before I can take a picture of it. It has the makings of a neat collection if you ask me. And as a result a hat rack shot up the list of you-know-what-would-be-cool-to-have. Ebay it turns out is a great place to find them. And while the one we got is not antique or unique, the price was right and it was what we were looking for. Unfortunately, it doesn't make sense for the hats I got for Christmas, so we ended up with a very nice coat rack.

Yard Work for the Blog

It's been over a year now since Tiff and I moved into our new place. And it's been over a year that I have tried to let the beautiful Mother Nature beautify our little lawn. She has taken down an ugly tree, which is a big step in the right direction, but over the year, I was hoping to see a little more progress. Mother Nature is almost as slow as my intern Jeff!

We decided to take things into our own hands. Tiff called upon some reinforcements in the form of her Aunt, who actually provided all the plants and did most of the work, but the final product look pretty great!

Not bad, eh? Yeah, it may need some work along the side there, and the part not shown along the street needs help, but what an improvement! We're on our way to a full-on flower garden. We just need to start taking care of it.

In that respect gardening's kind of like my blog. Water it every now and then, weed out the bad stuff, and just give it some love, and pretty soon, my blog will grow healthy and strong with beautiful blooms and maybe even some nutritional fruit from the tree of John Duffy. In my case, I have to do quite a bit of pruning too; pruning back my own blogging ambition... it hurts a little bit every time.

Also, gardens are intended to be enjoyed. They feed off the energy of admiration and appreciation. And flowers don't last forever, so you know, come on by for the peonies and in a couple days, come on by to check out the petunias. You never know what you'll find.

Unfortunately, my blog garden has had winter seasons too. Hopefully, I can find some interests and inspirations to last the whole year round.

Gettin' Stuff Done

We just finished painting the bedroom, rearranging and making the place a bit homey. It only took us a year!
It looks so good that I think the only proper description is “SMOKIN’! Yeah!” I even painted the ceiling! The ceiling color is a bit brighter than normal ceiling color but the name of the color is White Smoke, which I thought went well with the Aqua Smoke color of the wall. Smokin’, yeah!

The furniture all got rearranged with this moving here and that moving there. It’s strange how rotating a bed can change so much. Waking up in the middle of that first night becomes just a little disorienting. “Wait… but I’m at home.”

Anyways, for over a year, we’ve had one chilly wall; yep, one lone painted wall desperately in need of a second coat. (rimshot!) Then, in a burst of energy, we painted the ceiling, all four walls and the trim in a little over a weekend. I’m beginning to learn that productivity is much more satisfying than I previously thought.

I saw a home improvement show on one of the cable channels recently where the host made a comment that went something like, “All these unfinished projects are just creating a low level of stress in your life,” and at the end of the show, the homeowners were like “I didn’t even know I was stressed!” So I’m going to call it background stress.

I have quite a bit of this background stress in my house. The bathroom needs work, the basement needs work, the doors, the windows, the gutters, just about everything needs work. The garbage disposal just broke! They say it’s true of most homeowners. I say it’s all part of growing up.

I turned thirty, recently. I guess that's part of growing up, too. To make it significant, I'm trying to be more productive, to get more done, and to wipe out the background stress.

Maybe the good feeling that comes with these productive displays, checking things off the to-do list, is more from relieving this background stress than the sense of accomplishment. I don’t know though, I can’t say that the bedroom is complete until a few minor things are corrected, which it might be another year or so before they get done.

Church Thinks

Church I thought would be a prime location to just sit and think, but as it turns out, it’s not.

I went to church yesterday, which for me is a pretty rare event that only occurs when Tiff is swayed by the pleas of family members. It’s actually a pretty neat church, out in the country, down a dirt road. The parking lot is always freshly mowed and the plaque beside the door to the red brick building reads something like, Tiny Little Church, Established in 1771.

The May meeting, as it’s called, is always nice, because the temperatures usually right and the church is surrounded in rain-soaked green of spring, if that’s a color. Plus it’s always nice to see the sparse crowd of happy old people, and nothing makes old people happier than young people going to church. 1771, as chance would have it, is not only the year the church was built, but the cumulative age of the dozen or so worshipers in attendance.

I enjoy every part of this little church, including wearing my Sunday best!, except the actual church-y part of it. I’m down with G-O-D, I just like having him be more of a sideline part of my life than front and center.

So I decided on the way to take advantage of the sit and think time and use it as a time to perfect my active visualization. You see, recently I’ve been introduced to the mysterious powers of intention. It all began when Tiff signed me up for a daily email from The Universe. It always offers a basic positive message with a hippie vibe. Today’s message is a great example:

Sometimes the most obvious thing in the world, John, isn't obvious at all, in the absence of wonder.

Obviously,
The Universe

There’s always a zinger on the end too. I love the zingers. Anyways, that was a few months ago, and since then I’ve stumbled into one thing after another that sheds more light on the power of intention.

As part of it, you can make things happen, get closer to your goals, just by putting some serious thought into the outcome… I think more by moving the goalposts than anything else. I’m drawn to it though as I like the idea that sitting and thinking can actually get stuff done. I was hoping to begin getting stuff done while at church.

In an unexpected twist though, I found I couldn’t not listen to the preacher preach… and preach… and preach. This went against years of childhood training, week after week of actively not listening. So my plans were foiled and my thought experiment put on hold, but I have theory behind the downfall. It’s all those old people. They put so much collective energy into visualizing me paying attention that my own free-will was rendered helpless! Or, I think maybe I was compelled to listen because it’s what everyone else was doing. I was just the old sheep-in-the-flock, or maybe a fish in the stream of energy being focused on the preacher. I could only swim one way!

Anyways, I have a closing with no segue. If everyone would please join me in envisioning a change in my blog, it should change on its own.

Foggy Lens

I would like to change things up a bit on this blog. That's why I've asked my intern Jeff to create a new layout and some new features to make the Muted Guerrilla more of a destination website. He hasn't gotten around to it yet, though. I guess you get what you pay for. I was also hoping to get his input on a bigger issue, but one thing at a time.

The bigger issue is: where do I go from here? It seems like the somewhat successful blogs have some focus or specialized interest. If I were a vegetarian lumberjack, or a professional dart thrower (a dartist, perhaps), or a traveling lion tamer, or even a water witch, I think I could write a pretty bang-up blog that could be appreciated for generations to come! But as it is, I write about this wide array of life that is me, and generally falls into one of three categories, the mundane, the mundaner, and DC United. And the world already has a surprising number of DC United fan blogs (there are many, many more too).

I've thought maybe I should get really into the local scene and use this blog as a way to stay connected to my community, but it's hard to get excited about a place called Manassas... although, I did just move. Although, in all likelihood, I will probably move again sooner or later. Hopefully someday I can write about my local community out on the farm in the middle of nowhere.

The other stuff that I would like to write about are all things that I would just like to learn more about, so I am far from an expert on any of them and, therefore, have no real basis for writing about anything. In fact, that's my problem. I don't specialize. I'm more of a Renaissance Man-blogger.

I should rename my blog... who am I fighting anyway? I'll take suggestions, but my top-choice right now is definitely something like "All the Wonders of The World's Last True Renaissance Man and His Proclamations for All the World to Hear." ...or read.

I like it already! Hopefully that will get my intern Jeff off his duff, too.

The Future's Got Potential

The crazy thing about my long silence these last six months is that I’ve had a boo-koo amount of things to write about. I could write a book-Oh! I’ve been so busy doing one amazing thing after another that I’m not sure I would have had time to write it all down. It would have been better than the best blog in the world!

I have done some really cool stuff and found some interesting things to think about. There’s no time to look back, however. Life gets too complicated if I spend my time rehashing events that took place days or even weeks ago. What I need to focus on is the here and now and what I had for lunch… another Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich hit the spot. The future’s got potential, too.

Another word about lunch: Oreos. I packed a few oreos with my lunch today. I was a little worried about them, because I didn’t put them in anything so they were just floating around. They did not disappoint though.

A couple of days ago, I ran into trouble when I tried to put Oreos in the same container that carries my Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich. My sandwich got all hard and my cookies got all soft. It was disastrous! But that’s neither here nor now… although it is about what I had for lunch.

Did I say the best blog in the world? Oh yeah, I thought so.

Once Again...

It happened once again. A long and painful silence from the Muted Guerrilla. It is always such a sad thing. People the world over have tried to deal with the absence, some coping better than others. In some places, entire nations are on the brink of collapse! (I’ve heard I’m huge in Greece .)

But blogging has become so passé. I should be tweeting my twit in outbursts of wit or videoing everything for YouTube. At the very least, I need to log in to FaceBook!

Maybe, I’m writing too much to hold people’s interest, most importantly mine. Maybe I should just write “I had a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich for lunch today. Mmm. It hit the spot.” And leave out the part about the row of goslings that walked right behind me or the ducklings that swam around in front of me or the surprisingly loud noise of several geese flying just over head. Or that I got to thinking about the huge number of geese that are always at the lake compared to the number of ducks, and if I were to go around and bop them on the head, most likely I would say “Goose. Goose. Duck!” And if this is the case everywhere, how did the game become duck, duck, goose?

If I’m going to have another run at this, maybe I should get a new format. I could get a swankier website with really cool applications. I could take polls and surveys and respond to fan mail. I could hire an assistant and a publicist and three or four roving reporters and an intern named Jeff. I could see it now!

Perhaps I’d have better luck if I just wrote more for my audience than for myself. So, here it goes… Hey Dad! How are things going? Things here are good. Tiff says hi. The toilet is making a whistling sound when it flushes, any guesses?

Halloween

Halloween happened. It was a bit rainy, but we still managed to unload the bulk of our candy. In an effort to win over the neighborhood kids, I tried to fill our candy bowl with candy meant to Wow! I got some Snickers, some Reese’s, some minty 3 Musketeers, some Twix, some KitKats, and some M&M’s. And I threw in some 100 Grand Bars, which may have just taken the top spot on the My Favorite Candy Bar list.

At the last minute, Tiff added some Smarties and some cheapy boxes of “Candy Sticks” that had Marvel Comics on the boxes. I rolled my eyes at her trivial contribution. Her little piles of lesser sweets next to my impressive sum of shiny packaging made me laugh as I mixed them all together. She also threw in some cheap kazoos and squishy eyeballs.

When the kids started coming, Tiff and I sat side by side behind our bowl of treats. We greeted each one and watched as they sifted through the goodies to find the best, and time after time, the best was Smarties, Candy Sticks, and Kazoos.

One Notre Dame football player, helmet and all, began by taking just one thing, a pack of Smarties. I encouraged him to take more, and about five minutes later, he ambled off with his hands full of nothing but Smarties. He must have taken no less than a dozen of them! Hopefully, all those Smarties will go to his head!

We were constantly telling the trick-or-treaters to take more. “Take a few pieces,” I would say; “Take a whole handful!” Tiff would second. I guess most kids were under a strict one piece per house rule. Most kids, though, didn’t hesitate to reach in for more.

One little kid later in the evening, I think he was a Superhero of some sort, spent a good bit of time just looking into the bowl, presumably deep in thought, considering his choices. He tentatively reached in and grabbed the last kazoo. Tiff told him it was a kazoo and that it makes noise. The kid’s face… it was like a light bulb had gone off, and before we could tell him to take a few pieces, take a whole handful, he turned tail and ran off shouting, “I got a kazoo! I got a kazoo!”

All this is to say that I clearly missed the mark on winning over our target audience. Or did I? There’s nothing wrong, in my mind, with left over Halloween candy.

Gearing Up for Halloween

Halloween is here again. It’s becoming one of my favorite times of year. I think I’m more partial to the change in seasons and the harvest-y atmosphere than to the spooky holiday, but they all somehow go together.

This year for Halloween will be our first in our new place in our new neighborhood, where the kids seem to far out number the adults and holidays take a pretty high priority. The past years have been spent in an apartment on the fourth floor, out of reach of the typical trick-or-treater, so I am looking forward to the stream of costumed kids threatening me for candy.

It is rather mob-ish, isn’t it? The whole trick-or-treat thing? “I would hate to see something awful happen to you. If you give me some candy, I’ll see to it that nobody gets hurt.” And with the kids in my neighborhood, I think that’s about right. They are probably all good kids, but there are just so many of them that I’m afraid of what would happen if word got out that we had bad candy or, heaven-forbid, we ran out!

News would spread like wildfire! Angry pre-teen mobs with plastic pitchforks and battery-operated torches would storm our home demanding some sort of treat! I could see it now… I’d be trying to hold them off with some sort of distraction (who’s up for a game of quelf?!?), while Tiff would be frantically baking cookies. Oh it would be a mess!

Basically, what it boils down to is this: As newcomers to our perfect little street, we are still defining ourselves to our neighbors, and respect, it would seem, is a five-letter word, C-A-N-D-Y. That’s why I plan on springing for the good stuff… and a LOT of it. Maybe it will keep the neighborhood Goons off my back for another year… or at least a couple of months.

Planning My Day

My list of links includes Joel Achenbach, who writes a blog for the Washington Post that can be found on the Opinions page of their website. Today, among the important-sounding headlines of, "Resilient Baghdad," "The Public Plan Mirage," " Think Before Surging," and "Palin vs. Collins in NY's 23rd," was one titled, "Planning My Day."

I knew instantly that this was more my speed. And upon reading it, I feel that Mr. Achenbach wonderfully words how life should be.

Now if this were some ordinary blog, I would copy and paste this piece from the Post and hope that it pleases you too, but, nay, not I! Something of this calibre is deserving of so much more! That's why I proudly present, my first ever, theatrical reading:
Editor's Note: I had such grand plans for this, but when I got home from work my cameraman was much sicker than when I left her this morning. (Get Well, Tiff!) So I only did one take... I wish it weren't so dark. I also was hoping to get a Masterpiece Theatre feel going, but I didn't at all.And I messed up the two best lines!! - "Chili should be improvisational, kind of like the day itself..." how true, how true.

Oh Deer! I'm Late!

A long time ago, I realized that no matter how much time I give myself I will always be running just a couple of minutes late. If I give myself extra time, I will somehow dawdle my time away and am left running out the door.

It leaves me in a constant state of hurry, but unlike a certain white rabbit, it doesn’t bother me too much. Instead it just leaves me thinking, “Aww shucks! I’m going to be late. At least it’s nothing important.”

Today, I actually headed out the door early. I was all set for a good morning and what would surely be a great day… all because I was ahead of schedule. Then, as I was cruising up to some flashing police lights, fate stepped in and I would be late yet again.

I was forced to a screeching halt so as not to rear-end the screeching halt of the car before me. Two cops were stopping traffic both ways, gathering unknowing spectators for a show that was about to start. One was carrying a very sophisticated rifle… I know it was sophisticated because it was all black! He led our attention to the grassy median where a baby deer looked back curiously from the ground. Its leg was covered in blood. The police officer positioned himself about five feet from the deer. Thirty seconds of morbid expectation later, the gun sounded.

They then waved traffic on, the show was over. I’m not much of a gun-loving woodsman, but I understand that there is an over-population of deer. Hunting is somewhat of a necessity. I get it, but right in front of me, really?

The deer had been hit by a car. He was probably thinking, “There is a serious over-population of cars around here.” I just might have to agree with him on that one – if it weren’t for all these cars, I’d have no problem getting to work on time. Then maybe I could finally put that white rabbit to rest.

Oil Change

I am not a mechanic. The only things I know about how my car is doing I learn from the lights that pop up on my dash. “Check Engine,” “Check Fluids,” the Oil Tank Lamp, “Brakes Out!” my car screams in red and yellow lights and I translate that into “I need a mechanic!” The other lights, the “Gas Low” light and the flashing seat belt guy, I can usually take care of on my own.

Of all those, it’s the flashing seat belt guy that actually screams at you. You’d think the other ones would be just as important, but I guess not. If your brakes go out, everything will be okay as long as your seat belt is on.

My new car, which’s aging as we speak, has several features that I love, and I seem to be finding new ones by the day. There is no Oil Tank Lamp, for instance. Instead, the odometer disappears and in its place is “Oil Life – 10%”, which I’ve since learned to access for an Oil Life Update. Unlike the demanding lights of yesteryear, this car merely suggests that it would be wise to get an oil change. I love it!

About a week ago, on my way to work, a new light popped up that was not nearly as suggestive. It was a picture of a flat tire with an exclamation point! It demanded immediate attention! I counted my lucky stars that I made it to work in one piece. Then on my way to home via the tire shop, the light disappeared. And homeward I continued.

I realized it must be just be the change in weather, with fronts and circling high pressure systems and the like. It apparently wasn’t so urgent, but the Oil Life Update reported just a 30% Oil Life, so I decided to see a mechanic to get an oil change and check my tires, because I am no mechanic.

Now, I am no mechanic, and as it turns out, my mechanic is no John Duffy, meaning just an all-around great guy. I took my car to Goodyear Gemini Tire and Auto in Gainesville , VA where it was worked on by Justin. After three hours of waiting, (and at least a dozen people coming in asking that their tires be looked at because a warning light came on… I’m sure they love that), I picked up my keys and paid for their services.

Glad to be done with it, I headed to my car with a skip in my step. I revved my engine and watched as the panel of lights all go off, save one, a glowing flat tire with an exclamation point. I waited a bit too patiently for the light to go off, before my spirits dropped and I turned to the Oil Life Update, which still read 30%.

If this were the stock market, futures would be down ahead of the bell.

I went back in and explained the issue, Justin from Goodyear Gemini Tire and Auto in Gainesville , VA was scolded and I watched my car through the window this time as they worked on it and finished it up in fifteen minutes.

It was bizarre and makes me suspicious of all mechanics, but the silver lining… I don’t know what Justin did, but now it takes a really long time until my flashing seat belt guy starts to make noise. It’s probably not a good thing, but I can almost make it to the traffic light without having to worry about my seat belt!

Cold and Hungry

It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything substantial. I could point the finger at several things - for instance, we our somehow blocked from using our speedy internet “provider” and are left using a very slow, very choppy internet. But the thing that’s been weighing me down the most is my most recent challenge, which I’m failing at miserably.

I’ve also spent some time wondering what the hell I’m writing a blog for anyways. It seems that writing about whatever you please can never improve your situation… and could quite possibly be damaging somewhere down the line. If I were to run for President of the World or Secretary of the PTA or something, I feel like my inability to cook dinner… or maintain a blog, would somehow come back to haunt me.

Maybe all my posts should be about my brilliant ideas!
Or maybe just about my toenails.

I’m getting sidetracked and will now resort to talking about the weather. Blimey, it’s cold! It’s so cold that Tiff started playing Christmas music and I didn’t think anything of it. Now that I’m a homeowner, though, this change-in-weather-thing is a little frightening. There’s that chance that the furnace won’t start or that it won’t stop heating the house until the whole place burns down. That might be a remote chance, admittedly.

There’s also the issue of cost, which leads me to the question of when are you suppose to turn on your heat. This weekend it was cold. Very cold. But Tiff and I knew that we’d be spending much of Saturday away so we didn’t turn on the heat. Plus, energy efficient experts say that the proper temperature for the evenings is a brisk 55 degrees. T-shirt weather!

Come Sunday morning, we were still in the clear with our thermostat reading a stifling 56 degrees! I finally decided to crank on the heat though, as the news report included frost and some snowflakes in the area. Now, as the temperature warms back up this week, I’m left with the cold.

Redskins Win!

Two days after an amazing U2 concert experience left Tiff saying that "It would take a lot to get me go back to Fedex Field," we were given tickets to return to see the Washington Redskins. Thanks Jay! Tiff's not much of a football fan, but there was no question that this was the big event that would have her return. And boy, am I glad we did.

It was awesome. Tiff has an amazing knack for catching great moments of sports games on film with the baseball game, which she barely missed me catching a foul ball, and the soccer game, which she caught the tying goal in the closing seconds. Today though she had to work at, but she got this:

Pretty cool eh? The place went crazy and the Redskins were about to tie it up, but they missed the point after, Doh!

The next series was the big 50-plus yard touchdown that proved to be the game winner, but we don't have that one on film. The Redskins won the game and "Hail to the Redskins!" could be heard all the way till we reached the highway.

Our seats were in the swanky Upper Suite Level and included an all-you-can-eat buffet and we matched the challenge of eating all that we can eat, which makes a great game that much greater.

On a side note: I'm still a huge DC United fan, but it would be nice if they'd win a game once in a while.

U2 Can Rock!

Last Tuesday, I got to see one of the greatest bands of all-time. I've talked about how great U2 is before after seeing their 3-D concert movie, but being there at the show, along with 80,000 of my closest friends, was a truly amazing experience, even from third-level seating behind the stage.

I'm not even that big of a fan, really, but something about their music is suited for huge crowds and everyone singing together. It's hard to compare it to anything, but I would say that, with that many people, it was as close to a religious experience as I've had in a long time. A bit of overstatement, maybe, but that's my line and sticking with it.

Not everyone agreed though. After the show, while I'm still amazed by what I just saw - the music and the stage-presence of the band - I was standing in line for the bathroom behind two guys complaining about the show. Or complaining about something. One said, "I lost interest after he mentioned Nancy Pelosi," who along with a fairly good size list of politicians was in attendance. There was no praise or support for them, Bono - U2's highly political front-man - thanked them for being there. The only praise given was to the USA in general and to President Bush for his work with AIDS reduction in Africa.

The other one in the bathroom was saying, "how much of the money they get do they actually give back? Maybe 2 cents for every dollar... I've lost all my respect for them." What? Really? I don't understand people. And they're not alone! That's what they were talking about on the morning radio show the next day! Most everyone who called in agreed! I don't get it. It was a rock concert!

Whatever... it was just a strange part of an awesome experience. It didn't ruin it one bit. The traffic though, that almost did. Three hours to and three hours back to a venue, Fedex Field, less than an hour away. On the way back, the first two hours were spent sitting in the parking lot watching nobody move.

It made for a very long night and had Tiff saying that she'd never go there again.