Guy Communication

I just finished a four day weekend in the U.P. for Thanksgiving. I had figured that my good friend Lurch would be up there, too. I hadn’t seen him since early August. However, I knew he’d be hunting a lot, and I wasn’t sure of the best way to contact him, since I didn’t know where he was staying or if his cell phone would get coverage. Because of this, I decided that if he had time and he wanted to do something, he’d call me.  (This strategy had worked before.)

The entire weekend passed and I never heard from him. I really didn’t think much about it. (Taking care of Thanksgiving leftovers can take up an awful lot of time.)

Then came Sunday morning church. After the services, I mingled for a while and was thinking about leaving when Lurch materialized out of nowhere. I explained why I didn’t call him, and that I expected that he would have called me. His reply was that he figured I was going to call him. We looked at each other for a second, and then we both just kind of shrugged. The prevailing attitude turned out to be “Well, there’s always Christmas, or summer, or next Thanksgiving, or whenever.”

That’s guy communication for you. The funny thing is I wouldn’t be surprised if something like that happened again in the future.

Over the years I’ve found that guys don’t really need to see each other or keep up with what’s going on with one another in order to keep their friendship alive, which probably was a major contributing factor in what happened to Lurch and I. You can go years without seeing a good friend, and when you finally do, you pick up right where you left off. It’s very low maintenance. There is no lengthy discussion about everything that’s happened since the last time that you talked. Typically, you can catch up on everything in about thirty seconds.

I can picture what would happen if I didn’t see Lurch for ten years. When we’d finally meet (I’d be completely bald by then), I’d ask him what was new. He would reply, “Not much.” That would be all of our catching up. Then we’d throw some horseshoes and go to Slims for lunch. It wouldn’t matter if one or both of us were married, had kids, had been to prison, or had lived in a rusted out bus in Alaska for five years and hadn’t shaved since. These facts might come up during the horseshoe match, but merely as an afterthought.

Then, after Lurch had won, (he always wins at horseshoes) we’d depart casually, not knowing how many years it would be before we’d meet again.

Of course this ten-year meeting assumes one of us would call the other. I’m thinking the odds of that happening wouldn’t be very good.

A Night At The Opry

If you’re ever in Nashville, I would highly recommend taking in a show at the Grand Ole Opry. I have been there once, and I had a great time. Purchasing tickets shouldn’t be too hard, but you should still get them as soon as you can. We bought ours early, before Carrie Underwood was announced as one of the performers. When we got to Nashville, we found that both of the Saturday night shows had been sold out, so we were lucky to have gotten them ahead of time.

The Opry is normally held in the Grand Ole Opry House, located east of downtown Nashville. However, for several months during the winter, the Opry is moved to the Ryman Auditorium, which is located right downtown.

What struck me about the show at the Opry was the atmosphere. It was very relaxed and respectful. I think this was because the audience ranged from children up to the elderly. There was no party atmosphere, which led to a very subdued crowd, but not in a bad way.

During the performances you’re not supposed to stand up. If you do, one of the ushers will politely ask you to sit down. If you want to take pictures, you can walk down the center aisle right to the front of the stage, take your pictures, and walk back. It’s all very orderly.

The variety of the show is fun. It is made up of multiple performers who only sing one or two songs each. I got to see Little Jimmy Dickens, Carrie Underwood, Vince Gill, Randy Travis, Lady Antebellum, Little Big Town, and many more, all in only two hours. Every half-hour there is a new host, who introduces the other acts, makes a few jokes, and sings a couple of songs themselves.

There are shows on Friday and Saturday night, and, for most of the year, Tuesday and Thursday nights. The Saturday Night Opry consists of two shows. (They essentially do the same show twice.)

On a side note, the video for Carrie Underwood’s song ‘I Told You So’ is footage from her performance on the Opry the same night I was there. However, it was taken during the first show, and we attended the second, or I very well could have been in the video.

If you take in a Saturday night show at the Opry, you can follow that up with attending, for free, the Midnight Jamboree at the Texas Troubadour Theatre, which is located fairly close to the Opry. This is a weekly radio show that begins at midnight and is hosted by a special guest, who sings a few songs live and also acts as the DJ. (When we went, it was Rocky Lynne.) Once again, those attending ranged from the very young to the very old. The show is broadcast live, but everybody who attended was very polite and quiet, coming and going without creating any sort of distraction.

We were still in town on Sunday, and that evening we decided to go to the Opry again, this time to see if we could take any good pictures. It was a warm March evening, and the Opry was completely deserted, but still totally accessible. There are no gates keeping you out. You can walk right up to the front door if you’d like.

There is a large courtyard out front, with several stone benches. The outside lights were on, illuminating the building itself, and from the courtyard it took on a sort of majestic splendor. To add to this, gospel music was playing softly on the outdoor speakers.

This all combined to create a sort of surreal experience where I could have just sat on a bench for hours and absorbed the atmosphere. Here was this iconic place where so many musical legends have performed, and yet you could still hang out there on a warm spring night on a bench and essentially have it all to yourself. It's hard to put into words, but it was kind of like how you feel after soaking in a hot spring for a while. Just relaxed and happy. Now how many other musical venues could this happen at?

To The Extreme?

Anybody who has hung around me for any amount of time already knows of my taste in music. But, for those of you who don’t, I will give you a hint: if you start singing the chorus to ‘Elvira’ by the Oak Ridge Boys, I will have no choice but to chime in with, in my lowest possible voice: ‘Giddy Up, Oom Poppa, Omm Poppa, Mow Mow’

With this being said, you may be surprised to find out that the very first musical album I ever owned was not country. In fact, it’s something that makes me shake my head every time I think about it. I’ll give you a hint:

Yep, it was Vanilla Ice. However, in my defense I have to say that it was a gift.

I’m pretty sure I was in the fifth grade when I got this album. I remember not understanding a lot of the lyrics, which is good, because, as it turns out, most of the content is not appropriate for anybody under the age of eighty-seven.

Still, I listened to the album a good many times, as one of the songs on it, ‘Ice Ice Baby’, was all the rage at the time. Being young and impressionable, that particular song was forever burned into my brain. In fact, to this very day, I can still actually rap out parts of it if I, for some reason, have a burning desire to totally embarrass myself.

Luckily, this was the only rap album I’ve ever owned. Since then, my taste has developed towards the slow and depressing music I now hold so dear. (I will divulge, though, that I did own a Britney Spears CD once, but that was a white elephant gift I received at a work Christmas party back when I was an intern during college. I still remember about eighty guys crammed into my cube as we watched the enhanced portion of the CD on my computer.)

Luckily for me, though, since Vanilla Ice was my first tape, I still had a chance to make my first CD a good one. And I think I did:

The Richard Sharpe Series

I still remember reading my first Bernard Cornwell novel. There were about a hundred pages left in this medieval tale when the final, epic battle began. I was surprised that it started so early, and wondered what the rest of the book would be about once it had ended. As the pages turned, I then realized that the last one hundred pages were the battle.

That’s the thing about Cornwell. He can take something as huge and confusing as a battle and portray it in such a way that you easily understand everything that is occurring. It takes a lot of pages to do it, but you get the big picture as to what is going on and the strategy that is being employed, along with nitty-gritty, often-times horrific details about what it would be like to be in the middle of it all.

Cornwell has written a lot of books about a lot of different times, but I especially like the Sharpe Series. This takes place during the Napoleonic wars, in the early 1800s. It follows Richard Sharpe, who is an officer in the British army. He works his way up from a private to an officer, which was unheard of in that period. (Officers normally bought their ranks back then, they didn't earn them.)

The Sharpe Series consists of 21 novels, although I’ve only read 11 of them. When Cornwell began writing, Sharpe was already an officer, and Cornwell continued in a mostly chronological fashion through Sharpe’s career all the way through Waterloo. During this time Sharpe continued to rise through the ranks, and always found himself playing key roles in the many battles that occurred along the way.

That is what the first 11 books consist of, and they are the ones that I read. After that, Cornwell wrote additional books and slotted them before his first book, and in-between some of the later ones. I never read them, though, as I was satisfied with seeing what happened at Waterloo, and the one book that took place after that.

So, if you’re looking for a good read, start with Sharpe’s Eagle and go from there, in the order in which Cornwell wrote them. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

1-2-3 Explode!

Sometimes it's all about silver linings.  For example, this little drawing came out of a very frustrating meeting at work a while back.  It portrays exactly how I felt when I walked out of the room.  But at least it inspired the drawing, which I am very proud of.

Note that the stick figure somehow grew after his head blew up.

A Good Weekend

Relaxing with family.

Not losing at bowling. I hadn't bowled in about two years or more, so this was a big accomplishment.  The only downside was when I accidently threw the ball behind me during my windup.  I felt like I was in a cartoon and had to look up to make sure a falling anvil wasn't about to hit me or something.

Tell Me Something I Don't Know

Every once in a while I’ll hear a song on the radio and wonder who sings it. If I’m lucky, the DJ will announce this once the song is through. A lot of times, though, that doesn’t happen and I’m left with an unanswered question that may bother me for up to thirty seconds or so.

Apparently, this exact situation has been deemed a crisis situation by one of my local radio stations. To combat this, after every single song an additional recording, made by one of the DJs, is played which tells you the title and artist.

This means that somewhere at that radio station some poor soul is going through every song that’s ever been made and making a recording of the title and artist so it can be played on the air in conjunction with that song. My personal theory is it’s punishment for screwing up, like if this person swore on the air or tried to cause a mass panic by announcing that aliens were attacking.

Anyway, this can be helpful in the rare case that you don’t know the title or artist of the song. However, I’ve come to find it insulting that they have to announce information to me that, in most cases, I already know. It’s like somebody being with you in the car and announcing things like, “That’s a stop sign”, or “That’s the center line.” It’s got to the point that as soon as the helpful voice comes on at the end of the song, I automatically change the station, completely out of spite.

Sometimes it’s like adding insult to injury: “I already know that was Rascal Flatts! I only caught the last ten seconds and still my ears are bleeding! Aaaarrrggghhhhh!!!”

My thought is that if the radio stations are going into the business of teaching us stuff, they should at least make them things most people wouldn’t know, like the average life span of a giraffe, or who invented the Oreo.

Maybe this says more about me being easily annoyed than anything else. But whatever the case, I had to get it off my chest. And, in case you didn’t know, you have just read Kurt’s latest blog entry.

Down To My Last Nerve

At my place of employment we don't have cubicles. Instead, in order to facilitate communication, we sit in fairly open rows.

I'll admit that this does work pretty well in promoting teamwork. You see, it's a lot easier to collaborate with somebody when you can just slide your chair up to their desk and interrupt whatever they're doing and pester them until they help you, just so you will go away.

(Also, it makes things more entertaining, as you can now engage in such activities at trying to shoot a rubber band into the water cup of the person sitting a few desks down. This is one of my favorite work activities.)

However, there is a downside to being close to others. That is the fact that people are annoying, and I hate them. Take, for example, the Pen-Clicker. This is a person who has a nervous habit of clicking their pen all day long in an attempt to drive me insane. I have known a few Pen-Clickers and none of them realize that making the same annoying noise for 8 hours straight may not be appreciated by everybody around them.

To make matters worse, Pen-Clickers have a few close relatives, such as the Pen-Tappers-On-The-Desk, The-Marker-Cap-On-And-Off-Snappers, and the Incessant-And-Very-Loud-Hummers. Don't even get me started on the Fingernail-Clippers.

The only way to combat this, besides throwing the offending party through a window, which would probably hurt you on your annual performance review, is to listen to music on your headphones at the highest possible volume, just to drown everybody out. Of course, that negates the whole idea of the open workspace and team collaboration, but what's a guy to do?

Wait! I just had a great idea. You know the slogan, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em"?  I think that's what I'm going to do. There's always room for another All-Day-Long-Coffee-Slurper.

Hold The Lightly Wilted Arugula, Please!

To celebrate the completion of a large project at work, my team now gets to go to one of those swanky, high-class restaurants where dinner costs as much as a semester in college.

This place is Frasier as compared to Cheers. Here is an excerpt from the restaurant's propoganda: "From the myriad pieces of timeless art in the gallery to the clean lines of the stylish lounge to the breathtaking wooded views and understated style and elegance of our restaurant...."

That's what I'm looking for when I eat! Breathtaking wooded views! Maybe we'll be eating under a tree or something.

I still don't know what I'm going to order yet, mainly because I have no idea what anything is. Here are a few examples of what's on the menu:

grilled grouper
lightly wilted arugula
port reduction
blueberry and orange demi glace

That's what I was going to have for lunch! Or maybe that's what you can use to clean the bathroom. I really have no idea. I hate having to get a dictionary before I order.

As you can see, I'm pretty much out of my league, here. Not to worry, though.  My plan is to try and fit in by casually saying things like, "Note the understated style and elegance." or "I"ll have the lightly wilted arugula, please."

I guess as long as I don't accidently break any of the myriad pieces of timeless art I'll be happy.

Yo!

I don't draw as much as I used to. I just don't find the inspiration like I once did. (Or perhaps I don't look for it hard enough.)

However, I recently ran into a picture that I liked enough to make me pick up a pencil again. Call me a sucker, but there's something inspiring about a 60 year old Rocky celebrating his training completion in a snowstorm.

When I was getting the drawing into digital format, I messed around to give it a blueish shade, which seems to invoke a more winter feel.

For the record, Rocky Balboa is a pretty good movie.