02
Dec 21

Travel day, friends day

I’m going to warn you, there will probably be crying, The Yankee said to me at the airport.

We got up this morning, drove to Indianapolis, put the car at a park-and-fly facility and caught the shuttle to the airport. This was our view.

Checked a bag, breezed through security and boarded the plane. It quickly got above these oddly bright-and-dark clouds. The plane turned south. We were flying south.

When we arrived in Atlanta, The Yankee said that to me. Because after we’d disembarked from the plane and changed terminals we met up with some friends coming off a flight from Nashville. Maybe pushing people out of the way in the jetway was Sally Ann, who we’ve known for seven years. They’re besties and made a beeline to one another. A great many hugs were had and tears were shed. Someone standing off to the side watching this got a bit weepy as well. I gave the bro hug to her husband, who we have also known for several years, but this is the first time we saw them as husband and wife. They got married during the pandemic, but did it on their own, because of the pandemic.

We all got on a plane together, their seats serendipitously right behind ours, and headed further south, to Savannah.

We got off that plane, gathered our luggage and caught an Uber.

This is our town, as you know. The Yankee and I took our first trip here. We kept going back. We got engaged here. We got married here. And now we’re having friend reunions here.

Down in the heart of the historic district our Uber dropped us off at the house we’ve rented for the weekend. I climbed out of the car first. Emerging from the house was The Yankee’s other bestie, who practically floated into my arms. There were more tears. We’ve known Anne and her husband Bill, who flew down from Maryland, for five or six years, but we haven’t seen them since just before the pandemic began. Also inside the house was an old friend of mine, Andre, who drove over from Birmingham. We’ve known him for 15 years or so, but haven’t seen him in ages. During dinner, takeout, Stephen and Brooke stopped by. They’re spending the weekend in a nearby hotel. I went to college with the two of them, meaning I’ve known them for almost a quarter of a century. We haven’t seen each other in far too long.

All of these people have been a part of our weekly Covid video chats. I’m not even sure how they started, but they did begin very early in the pandemic. There were about 17 people, far too many to be heard and understood. It was the first loud thing we’d heard after two or three weeks of silence, and it was joyous just to see the chaos after days of stillness. Over time a side chat evolved, show notes, we called it. And as these things tend to happen, the group worked down to these people, who we are here with now, the usuals. We said, at the beginning of this year, that we should all get together when this was over. We set this weekend, around a 10K run and lots of pleasant, smart, thoughtful people. We were naive, of course, about the timing, but they’ve all been careful with their health, and those around them. They’ve all been vaccinated and received boosters and they’ve been cautious with their activities, just as we have.

It was a delight to sit around a large table and watch these seven other people. They are loud. They are funny. They are boisterous. They are incredibly smart and talented and successful people. They are all our friends.

It was a great coming together. A meeting. An introduction.

They’d never met, not in person, before tonight.

And now we’ll have a long weekend to enjoy, together.


01
Dec 21

A gray day

Welcome to December, and the encroaching color of the season! It is … dunh da dunh dunh da daaaaaaa!

It was just everywhere today. Couldn’t be helped. Whoever was painting today only had one color in their palette. Whoever was lighting the day only had reflecting screens. Whoever wrote this day spent four or five solid hours debating between “gray” and “grey.”

Today, it was gray. As we move on, we’ll go to the more conventional spelling.

It doesn’t look grey yet. But it will.

But don’t let that weather fool you. It was a lovely day, otherwise. Spirits were high! Good times were in the air! We had a lovely night in the studio and a full day around the building before that. And when I went home, sometime after 8 p.m., I got to head into a long, long weekend. The skies were low, morale is actually very high!

You just couldn’t see it because of my mask.

The daily duds: Pictures of clothes I put here to, hopefully, help avoid embarrassing scheme repeats. And isn’t this an interesting coincidence …

Gray!


30
Nov 21

This post brought to you by … me … and the cats

Another pretty day outside. It was sunny. The mercury got just above 50 degrees. It was, I’m told, a great thing. (I was bathing in the florescent glow of the office for much of the day, and the brilliance of LED lights in the studio well into the evening.) Nevertheless, we must honor it with photographic proof.

For the end of November, that’s nothing short of spectacular.

Phoebe, as we get our weekly check-in with the kitties, is enjoying this weather. She’s here posing in the living room to enjoy the late-morning sun.

Poseidon has this weekly game. After we make weekend breakfast we put the cover on the stove, and he jumps on it to soak up the last of the heat. When breakfast is done and the dishes are clean I pull out a napkin and give his face a big rub down. Sometimes he lets me rub his back or his paws — never his tail, with a napkin anyway. Sometimes he attacks the napkin, or me, or both. In a recent version of the dirty face game he tore a big hole into the napkin. And then he stood there while I tied it around him. And he posed for pictures.

One day all of the tumblers will click and I’ll understand what he likes and wants from the napkin game. It’ll be obvious and he’ll be relieved that I finally got it. This will take too long. I will blame is communication skills.

It was a news night in the studio. They did some rehearsals and auditions and it was all very productive. Because that’s what it was — and it was that because of the weeklong break the students enjoyed for Thanksgiving — they didn’t record anything. (Still took the same amount of time!)

But there is something new to show you here. This is the late night show, and this one came out just yesterday. Check it out.

And if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go sit down for a haircut. My lovely bride will give me a trim. This one means the clippers I bought last year have paid for themselves. And when you add in the silly pictures, buying a haircut kit was obviously a terrific investment.

One more work day for me this week, then it’s time for a long weekend vacation. But who’s counting?


29
Nov 21

I survived a Monday that should have been an e-mail

A nice, but chilly weekend. Perfectly delightful for late November. Any time around here that you can use the word “nice” around weather in late November, in any capacity, you count yourself lucky. And the skies were cooperating nicely.

Went for a run on Sunday afternoon. It was cold, but not too cold. It was hard, but not too hard. I was slow but not too slow. Somewhere in the third mile my back locked up in a serious way. And after three-quarters of a mile trying to run around it a lot of other things went, too. Something to work on for the future. But I got a nice shadow selfie.

But look at that surprising sky!

Also, I had a bike ride on Saturday. That’s three this week! It’s almost a streak. This one was in a simulacrum of northern France. I did not notice Mont-Saint-Michel, must have been trying to catch my breath, but you can see the lighthouse.

The abbey, which is a UNESCO site, is one of the most popular spots in that part of France. It dates back to the ninth century at least, and you would see it in this brownish-orangish section just to the top of the map.

But you’re going to want to see the real Mont-Saint-Michel. It’s gorgeous.

At some point this weekend I finished The Coming Fury, the first installment in Bruce Catton’s centennial trilogy of the American Civil War. Now I have to go buy and read volumes two and three.*

It’s a good historical tome, concerning itself with all of the major events in the year leading up to, and through, the First Battle of Bull Run. One part I might never forget is when someone writes to President-elect Lincoln and basically asks what should be done about the forts in Charleston if they wind up in South Carolina’s hands. Essentially, should we get them back? Leave them be?

Catton writes:

An interesting field for speculation opens just briefly here. What would have happened – how would the ever changing situation in respect to slavery, secession, and the preservation of the Union have been affected — if in December the South Carolina commissioners had won everything they asked for? Suppose that Buchanan had given them the forts and that Lincoln had announced publicly that as soon as he took office, the government would fight to regain what had been given away? What then?

At that point Catton has, over 193 pages, starting with the political conventions the prior spring, distilled this down to the decisions of Maj. Anderson in command of Fort Sumter and a South Carolina militia captain ordered to a paddle boat in the bay. Catton has put it before you that any of the decisions these two men made, for several days, meant war or peace at any moment — even as it was obvious the people wanted to play at war — and then asked you that rhetorical question.

This is December 1960.

James Buchanan is historically portrayed as ineffectual with Southern sympathies. Catton’s characterization feeds into that. Buchanan couldn’t make up his mind, he was a poor executive in desperate need, always, of his cabinet. Then late in the year his cabinet necessarily has its makeup changed and, suddenly, Buchanan resolves himself to be made of stern stuff.

As ever, there’s more to that guy than the one or two sentences you usually hear. Lincoln, meanwhile, was playing the cagey lawyer. He was insistent that he had to get in office and be credibly* seen as the president, before he’d do or say anything more than he’d already said.

It’s insight, but I spent hundreds of pages in this book thinking “You guys should be cabling each other constantly!”

Two more work days for me. Then it’s time for a long weekend vacation. But who’s counting?

*I have already started the bidding on e-bay.

**The credibility part was important because Lincoln was portrayed by many in the early going as a figurehead for William Seward, his secretary of state. Lincoln had to prove himself the president, even to Seward, and show that to the people, while juggling the border states, each according to their need, and starting a war. So the second book is probably going to be something.


26
Nov 21

That lovely Friday after Thanksgiving

Today is one of the best reasons to like Thanksgiving. The turkey is great, and days of leftovers are wonderful. Family is, of course, the biggest part of it, and the opportunity to reflect is the actual point. And you can do a lot of that on Friday, too. You can avail yourself of a lot of those things on the Friday after Thanksgiving, as it happens.

This was the morning view:

We had an early trip to the airport to drop off The Yankee’s parents. They’d flown in on Sunday and stayed the week and today was the least expensive flight back out to the east coast. They’re old friends who have retired to Indy came down for turkey yesterday. We had a fine time of it. A lot of toil in the kitchen; a lot of tittering in the dining room.

I said all of the good things on the table were my bride’s and anything bad was something I made, but everything was delicious. We were fortunate to have a table full of food and now we have most of a refrigerator full to enjoy all weekend.

And though the in-laws were back before I woke up from a nap, we’ll see them again in a few more weeks. Plenty of visiting for the holidays this year, happily enough.

We took a nice walk this evening, and I enjoyed seeing this tree on fire.

I hope I get back by there again before it deposits all of its leaves onto the ground.

And here was the almost-sunset. Between the tree line and the neighbors we don’t have the best view of the western horizon.

But you can always walk toward it, and try to make sunset heart hands.

Heart hands, we learned, are a bit more challenging in gloves for some reason. She gave it a few shots, but the laughter was better than the posing. Sometimes it’s like that. It’s always better that way.

And I read Craig Johnson’s new book today. He pulled no punches in the acknowledgments. It’s the theme of this part of his Longmire series, and it’s something you might have heard about in the news recently. It spanned two pages in the layout, but it’s worth remembering.

I prefer the series to the books. The character is here, of course. It’s in the first person, though, which is not my favorite style. And there’s always a scene where the central figure takes a bigger beating than necessary. And he’s a bit goofier in the novels than the way Robert Taylor played him in the series.

And there’s the aging problem. The books are now taking place right after one another, which helps. Each book takes place in a different season, so four books equals a year. So this is year four — and I’ve somehow read all 17 in this series. But the sheriff, in the books, is a Vietnam veteran living and working in a time of smart phones. In this one he directly mentions the 1963 Rose Bowl in which the character played. It’s a different sort of math. Whereas Taylor is 49 or 50 in that scene above. But if you can ignore that part, they’re good reads. The bad guys are always idiots or devious villains. The victims and bystanders have a certain heroic stoicism and some keen philosophy. The sheriff always gets his man. And, usually, a head wound.

That’ll do for now. Have a lovely weekend. See you here on Monday.