Half This Stuff is Made Up
Below are the 10 most recent journal entries recorded in the "rollflag" journal:[<< Previous 10 entries]
|
09:12 am
[Link] |
Written Tues. 3/27/12
A rainy Saturday kept me confined to the house with my wife and our youngest daughter. Their constant bickering made it impossible to get any office work done but when I tried to intervene, they joined forces to attack me. Eventually, I went down to the garage to straighten up my workbench and damn if I didn't find a forgotten bottle of Jack Daniels on a shelf behind a tub of spackling compound, some cans of dried up paint and varnish, a tube of caulk and a can of turpentine.
I found a replacement wall socket for one in an upstairs bedroom which had been fried some time ago. I replaced the socket and it worked great but another receptacle, on a different circuit, stopped working. I went to Home Depot and bought 2 new replacement sockets and replaced both receptacles. Then everything worked. I realized I know even less about electricity than I thought I did.
Saturday night we went to Kay's son's birthday party. He's Zack's age and they grew up together in the neighborhood and were roommates for a year in college. Kay made way too much food and her creepy boyfriend managed to scorch some brats on the grill while leaving them cold in the middle. Kay's mom and step-dad were there along with a few of our neighborhood acquaintances. The young people sat out on the deck and the old farts sat inside. Every time one of the kids came through the living room on his way to the kitchen one of the grown-ups would ask, "How's school?" or, "What are you majoring in?" or, if they weren't currently enrolled in college, "When are you going to get started with school?" After a while they started using a different route to the kitchen.
The one thing I like about going to Kay's house is messing around with all the cool guitars her ex-husband left when he moved out. She's got a Strat that he won from a radio station contest, a Fender 'Telacoustic' which is a fun guitar to play but it doesn't sound that great and a Gibson acoustic. Half the kids who were at the party claimed to be members of various rock bands and, eventually, they all left, including the birthday boy, to go hang out someplace cool.
The next day we got a call from Zack who said he'd taken a fall and busted up his knee. He was holed up at a shelter somewhere near the Georgia/NC line and was waiting to see if the swelling would go down and if he'd be able to continue.
|
|
01:33 pm
[Link] |
This and That
Zack began his thru hike of the Appalachian Trail at Springer Mountain in Georgia on Saturday morning. He and Edie left just after midnight for the 9 hour drive to north Georgia and arrived 9:30 Saturday morning. Edie took his picture standing by the trail head before he walked off into the woods. She then got back in the car and returned to Richmond.
In the mean time, Nina and I drove to Blacksburg to spend the weekend with my parents. I was surprised to see that the mountains were still brown and bare though the redbuds and dogwoods had begun to blossom. While we were there we stopped at a used book sale that someone was holding to raise money for something. There were a dozen or so big tables with books stacked on them and, by the time we got there, they were selling them for $2 a bag.
I got a soft-cover edition of Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr's The Age of Jackson, a very nice hardcover edition, apparently published in 1945, of The Education of Henry Adams and ragged paper-back copies of The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich and Barbara Tuchman's The Guns of August.
My mom also gave me a box of "mementos" she'd saved over the years: old report cards, newspaper articles, school awards and letters I'd written, even my old SAT scores (660 verbal, 640 math.) I forgot to watch the IU/VCU basketball game but Nina's sister sent us a gloating text message after Indiana's victory.
I didn't do any work on Monday, except yard-work here at the house, and I went to Legend for happy hour. I drank three pints of Golden Ale and spent the rest of the night feeling like I was recovering from a concussion.
|
|
11:04 am
[Link] |
Property Line Police
I met a friend of a friend at his small horse farm just outside of town on a meandering stretch of the Chickahominy River, several miles upstream from the swamp. He had contacted me after his neighbor's cattle had knocked down a section of fence and had refused to repair it claiming that the fence was his - that is, the neighbor's. Gary explained that this was just the latest in a series of acts the neighbor had perpetrated that violated his property rights and basic, common neighborliness. Gary seemed like a decent sort of guy. He was quiet and unassuming. He listened when I talked to him. He spoke gently and respectfully to his wife. They both smiled and stopped to point out the bluebird which had just moved into a box in the pasture. If there was a feud going on with the neighbors it would seem that, surely, they were the level-headed ones.
As reasonable as they appeared, however, as Brian and I set about to establish the property lines, it became apparent that they suffered from a peculiar but very distinct form of social dysfunction I have come to call Property Line Paranoia. Obviously, because of my profession, I am very familiar with the condition. It is characterized by an irrational and delusional perception that adjoining property owners have "moved the markers" in order to steal their land. In this case, the first thing Gary told me when I started looking for the property corner markers was that the neighbors had "pulled them up and moved them" so they were "no good." Every measurement I made, however, seemed to confirm that the points were in the exact same position they had been in 20 years ago when the property had been last surveyed.
Although he nodded and acted as if he understood when I explained to him that I didn't think the markers had been moved and that there was no uncertainty about the location of the property lines, Gary still clung to the idea that his neighbor had deliberately moved the monuments for the purpose of "taking over" his property. I also explained that there was nothing I could do to make his neighbor help maintain the fence but I could say that it was exactly on the line and since both parties owned livestock, they shared responsibility for its maintenance. His response was that since he saw his neighbor tear some of the wire off part of the fence where the cow had pushed it over and since it was his (Gary's) fence, he was going to get the magistrate to issue a criminal complaint. "And you'll testify, right?" he added.
I told him, wearily, that, if required to, I would testify that the fence was on the line. I also asked if it would be okay to show up sometime and fish in the dark, slack bend of the Chickahominy that snaked through the woods along the back of his property. He said sure and launched into telling me about the big bass that prowl the black water down in there.
-----------------------
It was the first day of the NCAA tournament and they had the Syracuse game on up at Legend. A guy named Nick who's some kind of artist was sitting next to me. He said, "I got Megan's cold and then I passed it to both my girlfriends. Now they're all pissed off."
"Pissed off at you?"
"No, at Megan."
"So the whole harem's got the sniffles?"
"Yeah, it sucks."
"Ya sure it's not just allergies? There's a lot of stuff bloomin."
"I dunno. Maybe."
|
|
05:07 pm
[Link] | I was driving out Midlothian Turnpike Sunday morning, about 7:30, and noticed Katy's car parked like a discarded soda can littering the wide, empty parking lot in front of the sleeping strip mall. I experienced a low-level jolt of jealousy as I reasoned that she'd been up at the bar Saturday night and gone home with someone. So what, maybe the car wouldn't start. I made a note to not give a shit.
Sunday evening, I sat like a programmed drone and watched the NCAA men's basketball tournament selection show. VCU has to travel to Portland and play Wichita State in the first round which is unfortunate because one possible mid-major final four party crasher will be eliminated at the beginning of the tournament.
Monday afternoon I was headed down Jahnke Road toward Legend and saw all the plum and cherry trees had begun to blossom. 2:45 PM, March 12, 2012; Spring arrives. At Legend, JW told me how his brother had been caught cheating when his daughter saw him dancing with some skank on the live karaoke feed from the Jolly Roger Restaurant at Nags Head. In my opinion, karaoke perpetrators deserve whatever horrible thing happens to them.
|
|
09:36 am
[Link] |
Another Friday Night
So, last night I hear the porch door bang shut. The sun had dropped behind the berm but the sky was still yellow and the birds had just that minute hushed. Nina was at the bowling alley with Linda from the neighborhood and Zack was up in his room. I went out onto the porch and found Joe, Linda's husband, rummaging in the fridge. He looked up and asked me where was the damn beer. "Well, my old lady's about to throw me out," he announced.
"Sorry to hear that."
"Oh it's bad, man. It's really bad ...." Joe is truly happy only when he's miserable. "We had a huge fight. Slammin' doors and screamin' 'fuck you.' That kind of shit. And we'd sort of separated for a while before and now she's, ya know, askin' if I'm lookin' for somewhere else to live."
"Damn."
"I mean, I'm workin' my ass off. That job, I swear, it's killin' me - I'm gonna be dead in another five years - and she's out doin' who-knows-what; goin' out to eat with her friends, shopping, going to wine tasting parties. I'm like, 'It must be nice'"
"You think she's seein' someone?" I know damn well and he knows damn well that she's not, but Joe likes to pretend that she might be. It allows him to feel desperate and victimized and, most importantly, unhappy.
He shook his head. "I guess not. But I'll tell you something; I've been pretty damn naive."
"Whaddaya mean?"
"Are you kiddin', all these divorced guys out on the prowl around here? Remember the Christmas party?" He referred to a totally innocuous guy, recently divorced, who'd been at someone's party that he was sure was trying to make a move on his wife. "I just know I've been pretty damn naive." He repeated the phrase.
He launched into a play-by-play of their most recent fight but I was already tired of listening. I tried to get him talking about his job, a somewhat less boring subject, but he said he had to go.
"My ass will be toast if Linda finds out I'm over here."
"Oh yeah?" Actually, she couldn't care less but Joe likes to play a secret cat and mouse game with himself.
"Don't tell anyone I was here. For God's sake, don't tell Nina; she'll blab it to everyone." He's a piece of work.
------------------
When she returned from bowling, Nina and I went to Poe's Pub on East Main Street to hear a guy I know play guitar and sing. He was doing a great job entertaining the drunk MCV residents at the table next to us. Then I got a text from Joe to meet him at Havana 59 down in the bottom. He was there with his daughter, Sally, who works with the General Assembly and as soon as we walked in he pulled me aside and reminded me not to say anything to her. We were at the stage of inebriation where the lights danced and strangers were fascinating. The place was frantic with young political warriors in a delirium of exhaustion and excitement after their month of legislative activity. I found myself cornered by various assistants to delegate so-and-so or delegate what's-his-name, all impassioned, all heroic in their pursuit of good government and all in a frenzy to mate.
That was why Sally had summoned her dad. She felt the need of a buffer between herself and a certain over-zealous legislative assistant who's month-long battle to save the world had left him in a state of ecstasy. After a brief conversation with Joe and I the young man, who we both agreed was a little tightly wrapped, agreed to direct his energy elsewhere. Meanwhile, Nina was enjoyed a cigar while playing cards with a group of older gentlemen. Then Joe ordered a round of shots for all of Sally's friends and, well, the soft warm lights started spinning and then it was cold and we were staggering down the street looking for the car and then I woke up Saturday morning in my own bed.
|
|
02:56 pm
[Link] |
Wow, Almost a Year
No, I haven't been in jail. Lack of interest; that's how I'd explain the year-long lapse in posting. The lack, that is, of interest that anyone has in reading about my poorly aimed but dumb-lucky life. And, if I'm honest, lack of interest in reflection or examination. I just quit thinking about what I do, why I do it, who I do it with, how much I do or how much I get paid for doing it. That, and my sense of humor had been eroded by money and health worries and no one, myself especially, can put up with someone who isn't funny. Or at least mildly amusing.
So, all the kids are fine and doing pretty much what they were doing a year ago. The wife still cares. Like I said, no jail, no more heart attacks and no foreclosures or repossessions. There have, however, been several IRS bank levies and a few alcohol related blackouts. The big exception is that my middle son, Scott, who was my main employee, moved to Nevada and I hired a guy named Brian. At the moment, I don't have much work but I'm "guardedly optimistic" about the coming year.
Tags: "dumb-lucky"
|
|
02:42 pm
[Link] |
Various Forms of Ignorance
I realized, over the weekend, how sick I am of myself. 28 months of increasing financial stress and a year of health worries has turned me into a self-absorbed, angry, impatient and bitter asshole. I've become a miserable imitation of myself that has nothing to offer anyone except complaining and cynicism. As I sat listening to the dripping rain late on Sunday afternoon, I suddenly felt amazement that anyone would want to be near me, let alone be married to me. I guess that explains why Nina is always busy with work or a class or a book club or catering a friends wedding or shopping. It might explain how drinking has become less about enjoying social participation and more about withdrawal and medication.
I'm not sure how to fix it. Just cheer up, quit taking things so seriously, think happy thoughts, whatever. Julia, the day bartender at 'The Rock' wears a rubber band bracelet on her left wrist that she says "keeps her centered."
I asked, "what the hell does that mean?" (See how cranky I am?)
"I don't know. More alert and more energy. Maybe more focused." She continued, "My boyfriend showed me something on the internet that said it was a scam but I figure, it can't hurt."
"Does it make you more self-aware?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Because," I said, "you strike me as a pretty self-aware person."
There was a guy I'd never seen before at the end of the bar wearing an 'Army Rangers' T-shirt. He was talking loudly with another guy, also military, about his experience in Iraq.
"...they got all pissed off because some woman got killed. I'm sayin' 'there's a fire-fight goin' on for, like, half an hour. What the hell's she doin' walking around in the middle of a fire-fight? Did she ever hear of ducking her head?'..." The other guy was a marine and they started arguing about which branch of the service was 'baddest,' as in, who "fucked people up" the worst. I decided to leave and stay away for a while but I did feel a little less disgusted with myself.
|
|
07:10 pm
[Link] |
Puking Discreetly
Last Friday (has it been that long?) I picked up a check from the insurance company in exchange for signing the title to the mini-van over to them. Since I have a perfectly good F-150 sitting in the driveway which hasn't been driven in 5 months because it lacks a state registration, I decided to use the insurance money to pay the delinquent taxes and get it properly documented. Once I had the money, it only took a few hours before I was, once again, driving my truck, crushing a couple Budweisers and jamming to the 'Drive By Truckers.'
Monday, the 28th, was judgment day. That is, I had to testify in court about 106 acres of land that got lost in Buckingham County. Westvaco's attorney was pretty adversarial in cross-examining me and attacking my plat. We went back and forth for 2 hours with him asking me questions that he knew I couldn't answer. "Is the property shown on the tax map?" "No." "Does your client's deed to the property describe where the property is located." "No." "So you can't say for sure where this 106 acres is actually located." "Not with certainty, but I feel there is strong evidence that this is it." Since there was a gap in the chain of title and since the description was very vague (not unusual) and it wasn't plotted on the county tax maps (also not unusual) my client had a tough case to prove. I haven't yet heard what the outcome was.
A painted 'line' tree that was, surprisingly, left standing when Westvaco razed part of the 106 acre 'Sawmill Tract.'
The stone found at the N.E. corner of the 106-acre tract.
What it looks like after Westvaco harvests the timber off a piece of land.
I was kept pretty busy during the rest of the week with construction layout and a topographic survey of 14th Street, between Main and Franklin, which the city is going to "beautify" with some of Obama's stimulus money. On Wednesday I drank all my beer and started drinking wine which resulted in my being sick on Thursday morning. I puked discreetly while Scott was back in the woods but didn't feel much better.
Sarah and Scott left for WV to go snowboarding Friday morning. I did research and wrote a letter certifying how much impervious surface paving was on a piece of land in Lancaster Co. I had a couple pints at Legend then Joe called and dragged me up to Hooters with a couple guys from the neighborhood. That went so well that we ended up on the porch smoking cigars, watching Spring training baseball, listening to The Gourds and drinking a case of Miller High Life. My neighbors were very tolerant.
Miraculously, I was able to get up at 6:30 this morning and meet a helper downtown on 14th Street to finish the survey while there was less traffic. I don't know what I did last night but I felt better this morning than I usually do when I don't drink a gallon of beer the night before. It's a crazy world.
|
|
08:30 am
[Link] | 
The guitar I got when I was still in high school, almost 40 years ago
A big boat at the Naval Shipyard
The wrecked mini-van
Before my haircut.
|
|
08:49 am
[Link] |
Bad Neighbor Problem
A former client called and said he had a problem with one of his boundary lines. He tried to explain it on the phone but I suggested I stop by his office to look at his folder of plats and deeds. His problem turned out to be a 25' wide access easement across his neighbor's property that the neighbor is trying to prevent him from using by putting up gates, digging holes in the road and placing old, broken vehicles across the drive. There wasn't anything unusual about the plats and I told him he didn't have a boundary problem, he had a "bad neighbor" problem. I suggested he call an attorney.
The guy's place of business was right across the street from Legend so....
The kayak guy from California was there and told me about his recent trip to Great Falls on the Potomac above Washington. Pretty soon all my half-lit cronies had dragged in and before I knew it, I'd drunk 3 Golden Ales which amounts to drunkenness. In the mean time the insurance adjuster called and offered me $3500 for the van -- which is about $600 more than I'd expected. I have to get Nina to sign the title and take it up to Short Pump to get the check.
|
[<< Previous 10 entries] |
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=91.6){kind=small}
rollflag's journal