Monday, monday

Got a bit of a headache today, but I wanted to share a couple of quick notes.

First, I took a "coffee shop couple" geocaching on Saturday. If you're not a longtime reader of 3rd B, you might be asking, "What is geocaching?" According to the official website:

Geocaching is an entertaining adventure game for gps users. Participating in a cache hunt is a good way to take advantage of the wonderful features and capability of a gps unit. The basic idea is to have individuals and organizations set up caches all over the world and share the locations of these caches on the internet. GPS users can then use the location coordinates to find the caches. Once found, a cache may provide the visitor with a wide variety of rewards. All the visitor is asked to do is if they get something they should try to leave something for the cache.

It's hide-and-seek for nerds with tech toys. Regardless, I hadn't been in a few months and J&J wanted to go, so I figured we'd look for a couple. I'm always amazed at the new areas and "hidden" places I find while geocaching. This time we found a really old cemetery situated between I-65 and an exit ramp. Seriously, it's right on the interstate, yet none of us had ever seen it before. The headstones seemed to date back to the mid-19th century, though some of the oldest ones weren't readable. Anyway, here are the 4 we found if you're curious:
Forgotten Community -- the old cemetery one.
Oak Tree Bottom -- the most difficult find of the day.
The Star Chest -- Hartselle has an interesting policy for stray cats.
Concrete Creek -- less than a 1/2 mile from the house of another member of the coffee shop clique. We stopped in for iced tea afterwards.

Oh, here's something y'all might get a kick out of. Friday night we had a small "get together" for my retiring boss, yet my co-workers decided to get ME a present! It's a good thing I have a sense of humor.

Update: The "present" link above didn't work, so I changed it and it seems to be okay now -- if you were curious as to just what my present was.

Oh yeah, baseball

I sometimes forget my blog title. I should talk more about baseball. Don't worry; it'll be brief.

Thailand Jeff and I went to Montgomery last night to see the Biscuits. Riverwalk Stadium is one of my very favorite minor league parks and I've been telling Jeff we had to get down there this summer. Finally we did and we saw a really good game.

Montgomery lost 2-0, but that was the least significant part of the night to me. To me, two things stood out. First, the Jacksonville pitcher, Scott Elbert, was dominant. He gave up 2 hits and struck out 13 in seven innings. Yes you read that correctly, 13 of his 21 outs were recorded via strikeout. Furthermore, the Biscuits had 2 runners thrown out trying to steal and hit into one double play, so the total could have been even higher. The pitching performance was pretty spectacular, but I also saw what might have been the greatest catch I've ever witnessed in person. Okay that's a clunky title, but it was a GREAT catch.

It was the top of the 8th (or maybe 9th) and Jacksonville was threatening to add to its 2-0 lead. With a runner on first, the Jacksonville hitter smoked a line drive to dead center. I thought for sure the ball was going to short hop the wall for an easy double and drive in another run. The Biscuit's center fielder, though, had other ideas. He wasn't playing that deep, but he got a good jump on the ball. Still, the ball clearly was headed to the wall. But at the last minute, while running full speed at the dead center wall, he dove and snared the ball, just inches from the warning track dirt. All this was done while sprinting AWAY from the plate, trying to outrun a line drive headed to the wall. It was simply amazing! Seriously, it reminded me of the famous Jim Edmonds catch back when he was with the Angels. Oh, did I mention the center fielder leapt to his feet and almost doubled up the runner scurrying back to first? No "might have been" about it. That was THE BEST catch I've even seen (in person).

City of Big Shoulders?

Not any longer. Nowadays it seems more like the City of Big Brother.

You may or may not have been following the recent news out of Chicago, but Chicago's City Council has, in its infinite wisdom, decided just how much SOME businesses should pay their employees:

Defying Mayor Daley and challenging Wal-Mart and Target to follow through on their threats, a bitterly divided City Council voted Wednesday to require Chicago's big-box retailers to pay employees a "living wage" of at least $10 an hour and $3 in benefits by 2010.

Okay, that sounds good and decent. Recently there's been a lot of talk about "living wage" ordinances and such, so this didn't strike me as that unusual -- at first. Then I started looking a little more closely and I started getting madder and madder.

First, I found this story written a couple of days before the Council vote. My first problem -- the ordinance is written to apply only to stores "with at least 90,000 square feet of space operated by retailers with $1 billion in sales." In other words, they're not even being sneaky about the fact that Chicago is specifically targetting Wal-Mart and Target (and probably a few others). If this is a "basic human decency" issue, as the Council implies, why limit this just to Wal-Mart and Target? I know very small businesses are sometimes exempt from some of the more onerous regulations, but how can they justify this? I mean besides, "These are two successful companies and we wish they'd behave the way we want. I know, let's MAKE them behave the way we want." It's been a while since I've had civics or business law, but I don't seem to recall that being a duty of elected officials. [Didn't Marlyand have a problem with the constitutionality of a recent "Wal-Mart specific" bill?] Here's my favorite bit:

"Wal-Mart and Target could pay their people a living wage. Then we wouldn't have this problem, and people could actually live on the money they made," Hairston [5th district] said.

Well yes, Ms. Hairston, Wal-Mart and Target could pay their workers more, but when did it become your job to determine equilibrium wages in the labor market. Do you not think there'll be a (negative) employment effect of such a law? Oh, the Council has already thought of that and they've decided Wal-Mart and Target are bluffing:

Hairston called it [Target's announcement that it was putting a planned new store on hold] little more than a scare tactic. And even if the threat turns out to be real, she's standing firm in support of organized labor.

Oh, did I mention:

Ald. Howard Brookins (21st) is still searching for a big-box retailer to replace the Wal-Mart his colleagues nixed at 83rd and Stewart.

If I recall correctly, this was the store that Wal-Mart finally decided to open just outside the city limits. What happened? Well they allegedly had 25,000 applicants for about 350 jobs and Evergreen Park expects $1 million this year in sales and property taxes. Yep, good thing the Council kept Wal-Mart from exploiting those Chicagoans -- pity the poor Evergreen Parkers.

Well that was enough to get me riled up a bit, but then I saw that Chicago's been doing a lot of this stuff of late:
Smoking, of course, has been outlawed in (virtually) all public places.
There's a proposal under consideration that would dictate what kind of cooking oil fast food restaurants can use.
They've criminalized talking on a cell phone while driving.
There are strict limits on the decibel level of street musicians.
Finally, in April, they outlawed the sale of foie gras because of the geese-cruelty concerns.

Looking back at that list, I'd be happier in a world with those behavior modifications (other than the fast food restriction -- I love McDonald's fries). Problem is, I don't think the City Council has any business at all dictating most of those behaviors. Okay, you could sell me on the smoking one as a legitimate case of a negative externality. Y'all know how I feel about cell phones, but an effective prohibition (not just a "hands free" rule) would be almost impossible to enforce. The foie gras one really takes the cake, though.

Think about it. A group of 59 Council members decides that 2.9 million people in the city of Chicago shall not be allowed to buy this product because they (the 59) find it cruel to geese! I agree it is cruel and I wouldn't choose to buy the product, but how do these 59 people justify imposing their values on 2.9 million people?

Seriously, this is getting ridiculous and it looks as if there might be a bit of blowback from this:

Whatever it is, more than a few people around the city want it to stop.

"I'm a big boy," said Kerry Dunaway as he munched on fried chicken downtown recently. "I can take care of myself."

Given the level of voter apathy and the incumbency advantage, though, I don't see it changing. Yet another reason I'm glad I'm not a Cubs fan.

My neighborhood

When I moved to Decatur, almost 2 years ago, I was a little nervous. See, I decided to buy a house for the first time, but I'm notoriously bad at making big, life changing decisions. For instance, know how many colleges I applied to and when I applied? One and during Spring Break of my senior year in high school. Know how many times I've formally searched for, found, and interviewed for a job? None. I know it's a cliche, but I tend to roll with the punches and just go where life leads. Buying a house, though; that was going to take some active decision making on my part. Or so I thought.

In reality, I looked at one house and it turned out to be owned by the relatively new husband of the best friend of a casual friend of mine. I saw the house twice, made an offer, and signed a bunch of papers. I liked the house and I really liked the neighborhood, but I've always worried that I acted too hastily. Those worries have abated somewhat since Decatur has renovated the rose garden [I PROMISE to get some pix up soon]. My neighborhood just has a good feel to it -- lots of big trees, cats lying on the sidewalks (or my porch), the wonderful garden just across the street. I like it.

This past Saturday, though, I got proof positive that I was at "home". The local chapter of the Society for Creative Anachronism had a "meeting" in the park. Actually, they don't call them chapters. Evidently Decatur's SCA group is known as the Shire of Glynn Rhe. Regardless, you likely remember the SCA from your college days -- the weird guys who dressed up in armor and such and staged sword fights on campus. Given my weirdo magnet, I would never approach the SCA guys, but I liked the fact that they were in my neighborhood. I sat in my porch swing and watched them take turns whacking each other with (apparently) heavy broad swords. Cool! I couldn't find any photos of the actual event, but here's a representative shot from the folks at Glyn Rhe:


Yep, my neighborhood fits me.

Brush with fame

I think I may have already mentioned this story about how the late husband of one of my coffee shop pals was the most decorated American soldier in the Vietnam "conflict". That was sort of a "wow" moment, but this morning she told us she'd heard from Nashville.

Evidently Kenny Rogers' (the singer, not the southpaw pitcher) folks saw the story and now Kenny wants to do a song about Joe. His people told Faye that the "storyteller" song is Kenny's favorite style and he thought he'd like to sing a song about Joe. Faye said that was all fine and good, but she said there weren't any songs about Joe. Not to worry, Kenny has professional songwriters on staff who'll churn out a song for him. He's supposedly going to unveil this song on his Christmas special, which Faye is invited to attend.

Now I know today's Kenny is known more for his botched plastic surgery than his singing, but I still thought that was pretty cool. I also thought it was nice of Kenny's folks to consult with Faye. One of them even came down this weekend to meet her and bring her lots of Kenny loot.

P.S. Full disclosure -- I was brought up in a household with a mother who ADORED Kenny Rogers so I may not be an unbiased judge of the coolness of this.

Speaking of

less than popular sports, ...

Much like the World Cup post from yesterday, I never really caught the Tour de Lance fever either. Sure I watched a bit the last couple of years and some of it was pretty cool, but I never really got it. I am a little puzzled, though, by the almost total disrmissal of this year's Tour by the media. Okay Lance isn't racing, but there is a really, really, really good American story in this year's race:

Let me see if you find this athlete's backstory slightly more interesting than whether Barry Bonds will get indicted or Barbaro will ever walk again.

This athlete grew up a Mennonite in Lancaster County, Pa. His parents were against his pursuing his sport on religious grounds -- they believed if he continued competing, he would go to hell -- so his father sought to discourage him by trying to exhaust him with long hours of chores during the day. To no avail. He simply trained late at night, sometimes until 2 in the morning. Outside, in the dark and the rain and the snow and the ice and the subzero temperatures.

This man also served as a lieutenant to one of the most successful and popular athletes in America, helping him win repeated championships.

He took the lead in his sport's biggest event one day and cracked physically the next day to fall hopelessly out of contention, yet somehow pulled himself back into the running the day after that with what many consider among the great performances in the sport's history.

And oh, yes, one more thing. A previously broken hip now has the same problem that ended Bo Jackson's career and will have to be replaced with an artificial one after this competition.

Interesting, huh? So why isn't more attention directed to Floyd Landis?

Good question. So if you've nothing better to do this weekend, keep an eye out for Floyd on the TV and wish him good luck. C'mon, I know it's cycling, but it's GOT to be more exciting that watching Tiger win another major, no?

In which I snub world opinion

I've been mulling this one over for a couple of weeks now. Finally I think it's time ...

Call me a narrow minded, ethnocentric American, but I detest the World Cup. There, I said it. Note that it's not soccer itself that bugs me; rather it's the World Cup. Why does this grand spectacle of sports bug me so much?

Well I've got to string you along for a little while, so I'll start with the common complaints that DO NOT bother me -- low scoring and perceived lack of action. These are two oft-voiced complaints about baseball and my blog title should tell you that I'm okay with a slow-paced, low scoring game. In fact, I love to watch a good 1-0 or 2-1 baseball game.

So if it's not that watching soccer is about as exciting as watching paint dry, then what is my complaint? My complaint is that the referee seems to decide way too many contests with arbitrary calls (or non-calls) in the box. I know it wasn't every match, but it SEEMED as if every contest in the most recent Cup was decided, in very large part, by whether or not the referee awarded a penalty kick on some questionable play. The end of the Australia/Italy game drove me over the edge. What really riled me up, though, was the general reaction to the end-of-game call. The commentators all seemed to indicate it wasn't really a foul, but the Australian guy still was at fault for sliding and giving the Italian guy the opportunity to "sell it" to the referee. This was the final stages of the self-proclaimed greatest sporting event in the world and games were being decided on the basis of whether one player was a good enough actor to get a call from an official? WTF?!?!

See, that's what gets me -- the arbitrary nature of the outcomes of the matches. It just seemed to me that many games were won, not necessarily by the better team, but by the team that was fortunate enough to get a call. That's it -- 90+ minutes of hard fought action and the outcome is decided by one whistle.

Think about the 4 "major" stick and ball sports in the U.S. and think about what these events have in common:

• Franco Harris' Immaculate Reception. [Ooh, or the 2003 Fiesta Bowl between Miami and OSU.]
• Don Denkinger's call at 1st base in the 1985 World Series.
• The 1972 Olympic basketball gold medal game. [Also game 6 of the '98 NBA finals -- the Jordan push.]
• Brett Hull's questionable goal in the 1999 Stanley Cup Finals.

Okay you might not recognize all of them at first glance, but if you're a sports fan you can quickly figure out (if you care to click through) the significance of those events. Those were times when officiating decisions (or non-decisions) had MAJOR impacts on the championships of the major sports leagues. John Madden is still upset 30+ years after the Immaculate Reception and I'm still madder than hell at Don Denkinger. Heck, someone (ESPN or HBO, I think) even made a movie not too long ago about the 1972 Olympic basketball thing. These events stick in our minds because it just seems so blatantly unfair and wrong that a questionable bit of officiating should decide the final champion. In one World Cup, conversely, there seemed to be multiple games "decided" by the referees.

I won't deny the World Cup is the biggest sporting event on the planet, yet the outcomes remind of nothing more than the Saturday morning "rasslin" shows I watched as a kid. Who would win the match depended on whether or not the ref saw Masked Avenger pull that chain from his trunks. Seriously, that's what all the diving and writhing around on the ground reminded me of. I'm sure these guys (the soccer players) are very skilled and I'm sure theirs is not an easy game. It seems a shame that their games come down to which side has better actors.

I'm not going to be arrogant enough to suggest changes that might improve the spectacle that is the World Cup. Instead I'm just going to make the point that it is a spectacle more so than a true quest for the world's best soccer team. If people want to participate in all the pomp, circumstance, and drunken revelry that go with such a grand spectacle, more power to them. If, though, you're going to argue that my apathy toward future Cups shows me to be an ignorant or biased sports fan, you'll have to come up with a more compelling argument than, "Everyone else in the rest of the world loves it, hence you're wrong." That argument hasn't convinced me that Jimmy Stewart was a great actor, nor did it convince my mother than I should be allowed to have a motorcycle when I was a young lad. It's going to take more than that to get me excited about South Africa in 2010.

Another reason to hate bureaucracy

Over the past month or so I've seen a few notices about some new phone system we're switching to. More to the point, these notices all talked about training sessions for the new phone system. I've seen the new phones and they look just like the system we used at my last school. They're not that complicated -- unless you want to use the fancy features such as "forwarding", "parking", ... Which no regular person does. Hence, I have ignored all those offers of training. In the past couple days, though, we've received two URGENT pleas to sign up for training:

Training is scheduled for Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, July 17 - 19. Training sessions will be held at 9 and 10:30 a.m. and 1, 2:30, and 4 p.m. and will last for one hour. Please e-mail me at XXX to schedule your training session. List your 1st, 2nd, and 3rd choices for training; I will attempt to schedule your 1st preference if at all possible. I will notify you via e-mail of your training date and session.

I still thought I could ignore that one. Just an hour or so ago, however, I got an email from the woman in charge of some government-funded course redesign thing we're doing:

As you have heard, XXX will be switching to a new telephone system later this week. During our Title III Leadership meeting this morning, XXX stressed the importance of the training provided for new system. She stated that the training is especially necessary for all Title III course redesign team members. If you have not already scheduled your training, please contact XXX with your time preference.

Honestly, what kind of "training" do most folks need for the new phone system? We need to be able to answer it when it rings and we need to be able to access our voicemail accounts. For the first task, you simply pick up the receiver and say, "Hello." For the second, well there's a little instruction book that comes with the phone that tells you how to access voicemail. Why would anyone think it necessary to harry an entire campus of folks into hourlong training sessions just to learn one task that can be explained on an instruction sheet. EGAD!

By the way, I'm signed up for tomorrow at 4:00. I don't have tenure.

Anger management

The Vol Abroad recently opined on things that could/would make her "pull a Zidane". [If you've been under a rock the past couple of weeks, ... The French soccer guy who got ejected for head butting an Italian player in the World Cup final. See here if you really don't know the story.]

Her mini-rant reminded me on one of my all-time pet peeves. I think I've mentioned it before, but I really, really, really hate those folks who just leave their shopping carts out in the middle of parking lots and drive away. They (the carts) can roll away and damage other vehicles and they sometimes block potential parking spots from other shoppers. What really gets me, though, is the sheer arrogance of those people. They seem to believe the rules just do not apply to them. They're through with their carts, so why not just leave them where they are? GRRRR, it gets my goat.

Though I swore a holy oath not to, I stopped at the Southern Family Market the other day to pick up a couple of items. As I pulled into the parking lot I noticed a little old lady loading her groceries into her land yacht. What caught my eye was that after loading her bags into the trunk, she left the cart right behind her car. I thought she might have just forgotten it, but then I noticed there was an empty spot in front of her car. AHA -- she was planning to pull straight out and leave the cart right where it sat. She wasn't even going to have the courtesy to at least move it up to the front of her parking spot. "NAY," I said -- okay I didn't actually yell NAY, but you get the picture. I decided to thwart her nefarious plan by pulling into the vacant spot in front of her car.

So I grabbed the empty spot and headed into the store, chuckling delightedly all the way. When I got to the store, though, she was still just sitting in her car. I decided I'd wait around and see just what she did. Finally, she cranked up her "boat" and put it in reverse -- without getting out and moving the shopping cart. I watched as she eased back, made contact with the cart, and then continued backing out -- pushing the empty cart smack dab into the middle of the traffic aisle. She then put the car in drive and toodled off out of the parking lot! I couldn't believe it! Even if you could convince me that she had simply forgotten the cart, it was obvious that once she made contact, she made a conscious decision to continue pushing it more out into the way -- and then just leave it there! I'm sure her thought was something like, "I don't feel like getting out and moving it. Someone else will take care of it."

Though I do not, as a rule, advocate assaulting little old ladies in big cars, I would have head butted this woman -- and then just left her there. I'm sure someone else would have picked her up.

P.S. While it doesn't raise my ire quite to the level of bodily assault, I really hate it when people make "clever" word plays and then say, "No pun intended." It's obvious they DO intend to make a pun -- that's why they make their initial comments!

Someone help, please!

Stella and I debated the wisdom of my posting this plea, but I need help. Yesterday an extremely cute black and white kitten showed up on my porch. I tried my best to ignore him in the hope he'd find his way back to what I imagined was a luxurious home. This morning, however, the little guy was still on my porch.

I am resigned to the reality that I have taken on some sort of responsibility for Porch Cat, but I CANNOT take on another cat. Seriously, folks, I'm a single guy with 2.5 cats already. Another one will push me over the edge! Even beyond the social stigma, I do not want to go through the living hell of introducing a kitten into Gumbo's (the uber-evil cat) world. I'm just not up for that. Also, perhaps selfishly, I think 2 (indoor) cats is just the right number.

So c'mon readers, doesn't one of you have a home for an adorable kitten? Heck, I'd even be willing to contribute some $$$ toward the initial start up costs -- vet fees, etc. So someone help me out. If I don't get any positive responses, I'll be forced to take and post some pictures of the little guy.

UPDATE:
I knew it was useless, but I checked the "lost and found" in the local newspaper. There was no mention of a lost kitten, but I did see this interesting item:

Lost Cow Charolais, white. Missing in Somerville, last seen on Black Rd.
778-xxxx.

I guess finding a kitten on my porch wasn't the worst possible thing. It could have been a cow!

Ah, Abigal

Here she is:

Comfy!

Who am I?

Some days I end up doing things that make me wonder if "past me" would even recognize "present me". I'm not talking about cheating on income taxes, murdering someone, kicking a puppy, or even getting in the express lane with more items than the mandated limit. No, I'm talking about perfectly legal actions that, 5 or 10 years ago, I'd have said, "Who in his right mind would do X?" For instance:

A couple of years ago I realize I had become a coffee snob. No longer were Folgers, Maxwell House, Sam's Choice, etc. sufficient for my morning doss of buzz. My biggest disappointment in myself was not that I snubbed the "common" brands. That was bad enough, but I also had to admit that I could differentiate between various coffees -- not brands so much as different roasts or different varietals. You have no idea how much this pains me, but I have a favorite "place of origin" coffee -- Costa Rican, preferably from the Tres Rios region. It all reminds me of the time Frasier, in a flashback episode, had just moved to Seattle and he was agog at the pretentious people in the coffee shop. Frazier said something like, "Lord help me, the day a good old cup of regular old coffee isn't good enough for me." I feel as if I've jumped the shark. [Isn't Wikipedia great?]

Second, I started making my own beer. See disappointment #1 for why this bothers me.

Third, I now own more than 3 pairs of shoes. See, a man really doesn't need more than 3 pairs of shoes -- a pair of sneaks, a pair of boots, and a pair of dress shoes. I don't want to count how many I own, but it's probably closer to 10 than 3. That bothers me.

Fourth, and what brought this rant to mind today, I am about to go out and spend way more than (I think) is reasonable for a chair. Yes I said a chair; something to sit on! When I moved into my house a couple of years ago, I bought a new couch. In truth, I needed to do that because the old one (a gimme couch) was in pretty sorry shape. And I had enough disposable income, so I took the plunge and bought a fairly nice leather couch from Sam's Club (I was splurging, but I'm still cheap). Ever since then, I've realized that I need a chair to go with the couch. [Yes, there was a matching chair at Sam's, but I wasn't going to buy a couch AND a chair at the same time.] Every so often I'll go look at chairs, but I just can't bring myself to pay what's required for a nice chair and I don't want to waste my money on a chair I don't like. Hence, it's the couch or nothing. Occasionally I have company and I have to pull some kitchen chairs into the living room or something and that's kind of a drag.

The other day, though, I saw MY CHAIR. It was beautiful and it was oh so comfortable. Seriously, this chair grabbed hold and hugged me. It was everything good and holy in world of furniture. If I owned that chair, I thought, I'd never unnecessarily rise to my feet again. I'd train the cats to bring food and drink, I'd holler "come on in" if someone knocked on the door, I've already got a remote for the TV and a cordless phone. I figured the only time I'd have to get up would be to use the bathroom, go to bed, or leave the house. The price tag on said chair, however, was completely out of the question so I was left to worship from afar. Sunday, though, there was a 40% off any one item coupon in the paper! Now even at 60% of regular price I'm still having trouble justifying the purchase, but I WANT THAT CHAIR! I've dealt with this issue my whole life, but this time I'm coming down on the "let's splurge" side of the argument. I called Thailand Jeff and he's bringing his truck over today and we're going to get the chair.

The 10-year-ago me would call me all kinds of dirty names and I'm fairly sure the 5-year-ago me would make much sport of this purchase. Remember, we're talking about a chair here! I do, though, have a few "saving graces" that suggest I haven't completely gone over to the dark side. First, and most importantly, where am I buying this Cadillac chair? Some posh furniture store? No, my chair is coming from Hobby Lobby. Yes, Hobby Lobby, the craft store. Hobby Lobby has lots of little tables, cabinets, trunks, etc., but I have no idea why they have this fabulous leather chair there. I was skeptical of Hobby Lobby furniture so I asked several (okay 3) people if they'd ever bought any furniture there. None had, but all 3 said, "Oh, but have you seen that great leather chair they have?" So evidently it's not just me who's taken with this chair. Next, while I am splurging on this chair, I haven't fallen prey to many of the other gadget fads. I do not have a flat screen/plasma/HD TV and I have no intention of buying one. My good old 25 or 27 inch one works just fine. [By the way, that TV came from Kroger, so I guess buying a chair at Hobby Lobby isn't such a stretch.] Plus, I don't own a pair of Crocs, so I know I haven't given in even to afforable fads. My final rationalization is that this "extravagant" purchase proably wouldn't be considered that extravagant by many folks. Still, it is to me and I must admit that I'm a little disappointed in "present me".

On the other hand, I'm REALLY looking forward to sitting in my new chair. Screw "past me"; I'm buying the chair and I think I'll name her Abigal!

Play it, Sam

WOW! That's the only word I can use to describe seeing Casablanca at the Alabama Theatre Friday night. First, Casablanca is one of my all-time favorite films. I know that's a cliche, but I truly do think it "holds up" -- unlike many of the "classics" from the past. Second, the Alabama Theatre is astounding! If you don't know:

The Alabama Theatre was built in 1927 by Paramount Studios as an Alabama showcase for Paramount films. It was used primarily as a movie palace for 55 years, with the exception of the annual Miss Alabama pageant and the weekly Mickey Mouse Club. In 1987, the owners of the facility declared bankruptcy and the theatre was purchased by Birmingham Landmarks Inc., a non-profit corporation.

The Alabama was restored in 1998 and while I don't know what it looked like in its prime, the current theatre looks like a fairy tale castle. The woodwork, the chandeliers, the gold leaf paint, the bathroom "lobbies", ... It looked just like you'd imagine a grand movie palace from the 20s would look. And, gosh, it only took me 8 years to go see a film there.

As for the film, ... As I said, Casablanca is one of my favorites, but I'd never seen it on anything other than a living room TV screen. While part of it may have been mental, it really did seem like a different movie in that setting. Plus, without distractions I ended up paying much closer attention and I found the movie to be very witty. There were lots of snippy little lines that I never caught when watching at home, but I laughed out loud Friday night. Oh, and there was a cartoon before the movie and the Alabama has an organ that rises up out of the floor and some guy played old tunes for 15 minutes or so before the show. Basically the whole experience kept the audience very engaged (I didn't hear a single cell phone ring). Though I'm sure most everyone there had seen the movie many times before, almost the entire audience (minus me) burst into spontaneous applause at the end -- something I've never seen outside of maybe Top Gun. In other words, it was a great experience and anyone within driving distance of Birmingham (AL, that is) needs to get his butt there this summer.

Oh, some members of my coffee shop crowd want to go back next week, but I don't know that I'm up for sitting through that one! Personally, I'm looking forward to the weekend of August 4th-6th when they're showing Raiders of the Lost Ark. That should be way cool.

7/7

The Vol Abroad has a very nice post on the one-year anniversary of the London bombings. As usual, The Vol does a great job of capturing the moment. She doesn't give a dry recitation of the facts, rather she lets you in on her first-hand reactions to and remembrances of that day. And she manages to do so without a hint of whine. Go read it now.

Ashley, oh Ashley

I don't want to sound Tom Cruise-like on the subject of psychiatry and therapy in general, but this story about Ashley Judd spending 47 days in a "treatment facility" strikes me as a little "much".

First, what was her malady? She was treated for

[C]o-dependence in my relationships; depression, blaming, raging, numbing,
denying and minimizing my feelings.

After I got over the bizarre use of punctuation in that sentence, I was struck by the notion that minimizing one's feelings is now a mental disorder. What the @#$%? Seriously, I don't want to downplay the legitimate value of therapy (or so I'm told), but why did Ashley Judd do this interview and let herself be quoted saying she was seeking help for "minimizing her feelings"? Was there any way this would make her look good -- outside the weepy Oprah crowd? Nay, I say! The ONLY reaction I see a normal person [It's my blog, hence I'll use myself as the paragon of normality.] having to this is, "You silly, spoiled, out-of-touch Hollywood woman! You wanna' here about problems? I'll tell you about problems ..."

Okay, even though these complaints hardly seem like a 47-day problem to me, maybe they were crippling Ashley. Was that the case? No! Ashley was at Shades of Hope visiting Wynonna (who was being treated for food addictions) when the kind staff helped her identify her own problems:

[B]ecause my addictions were behavioral, not chemical, I wouldn't have known to seek treatment. ... And those behaviors were killing me spiritually, the same as someone who is sitting on a corner with a bottle in a brown paper bag.

So she had to be TOLD about her problems before she recognized she had a problem?!?! Okay, I know that people do stage such interventions because often it is difficult for us to see our own problems. Fortunately for Ashley, the folks at Shades of Hope were there for her:

"When (the counselors) approached me about treatment, they said, 'No one ever does an intervention on people like you. You look too good; you're too smart and together. But you (and Wynonna) come from the same family -- so you come from the same wound.' No one had ever validated my pain before. It was so profound," she says.

Again, does anyone talk like that? "No one had ever validated my pain before!" Hell, she didn't even know she had pain. She thought she was happy being a Hollywood star and being married to a race car driver. Good thing Shades of Hope caught her in time!

Yes, I'm being overly snarky in this post, but this is the kind of stuff that drives people to "poke fun" at therapy. Honestly, Ashley, what was the purpose of this big interview with Glamour? Could it have something to do with the fact that you haven't had a movie in a couple of years and you've got a couple coming out this year? I could understand that, but one of her movies isn't out until December and the release date for the other hasn't even been announced. So again, why? I just don't get it.

Oh, and is anyone else freaked out by this Shades of Hope place? Almost sounds like a cult to me. Hmm, maybe Tom Cruise would approve after all.

Family fun

For those of you who were curious, I did in fact survive the Caffeine family's 4th of July festivities. [Yes, it was a little early this year, but ...]

This may not come as a surprise to you, but I come from a family of storytellers. For years the joker in the deck of cards that is my dad's family has been Great Uncle Charles. This man is a great storyteller. The Corp of Engineers once did a feature on him in its in-house magazine and I don't think there were 20 factual words in the whole story. The past couple of years, though, Uncle Charles hasn't been in the best of health and he just doesn't seem to have the energy for great stories any longer. Never fear; the torch has been passed to Uncle Zeno. [Yes, that's his name. The first 4 kids in Dad's family are Zeno, Leo, (Aunt) Daffo, and Elzo.] Uncle Zeno can spin a good yarn, but he often gets so tickled in his telling that it's hard to follow the story. Still, if this year's party was Zeno's audition, I'd have to say he is entitle to the crown.

First, he told a great tale about a pair of shoes. Long story as to why, but Zeno showed up at the cabin Friday night wearing a pair of "slippers" -- Caffeine family speak for any type of male "dress shoes". This, though, was not just any old pair of slippers. No, he got out of the U.S. Army November 28th, 1963 (just after Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas) and he bought this pair of shoes shortly thereafter. He did have them half soled one time, but the man was wearing a 42-year-old pair of shoes. Now my family has long been known for its ability to maintain and use possessions long past normal life spans. This, though, might be a record. The shoes looked brand new. Even more amazing than that, I got to thinking about how many times Zeno has moved since 1963. I've moved 3 times in the last 7 or 8 years and every time I move I get rid of a bunch of stuff. Obviously Zeno does not wear these shoes often, yet he's hauled them from place to place for 42 years. I don't know exactly why, but that impressed me.

Second, and more relevant to his assumption of the Caffeine Family Storyteller Throne, he showed the dedication and perseverance of a true storyteller. Since he'd gotten to the cabin so late Friday night, he was still wound up once everyone else was ready for bed. Cousin Becca and I finally begged off and bedded down in sleeping bags on the cabin's porch about 1:00. Zeno, though, found two of the "young uns" who were up for more talk. Since I was on the porch of the cabin, I got to "enjoy" an extra hour's worth of tales from around the fire. Most of the stories involved hunting. On about 2:00 they got off onto bird hunting. Actually now that I think back, I realize that Zeno was the one who brought up bird hunting and I suspect that he introduced the topic just so he could tell his joke (borrowed from Jerry Clower). Anyway, they got into a discussion of various dove hunts they'd been on and Zeno tried a couple of times to work in his joke. The "young uns", though, kept going on about actual hunts they'd been on. Finally, a bit after 2:00, they all decided it was time to retire and Zeno had not been able to finish his joke.

The next morning I had to get up a little before 6:00 for a nature call (no plumbing at the cabin) and as soon as someone stirred Zeno was up and ready to talk some more. Fortunately for me, one of the "young uns" from the night before got up about the same time so I was able to sneak back to my sleeping bag. As soon as I got back in my bag and Zeno got the fire going again, I heard him FINALLY get to tell his dove hunting joke! Now that's dedication -- sitting on a story overnight, ready to spring it at first light. In my mind, he's earned the crown.

As for the rest of the weekend, ... It was okay. The actual reunion on Saturday went fine. The pig was good and I got to visit a bit more with relatives. This year was a tad rushed though, as Mary Beth (Zeno's daughter) was to be married Saturday night. He did, she did, and now they're married. Since the wedding was in Lawrenceburg (as opposed to Wayne County), I did see some L'burg folks from the distant past. It turns out that I went to high school with the sister of the groom and I talked to an old high school teacher -- that was weird. She's still teaching and she still hasn't gotten over the fact that I chose economics over English. Oh, and I almost set myself on fire during the reception. A kind woman pulled me away from the flame. I was appreciative, but I think some of the cousins were disappointed because THAT would have made a great "I remember St. Caffeine setting himself on fire at Mary Beth's wedding" story that would have lived for years in family lore. I told you, we're storytellers.

So, a good time was had by all, but I'm glad it's only once a year. I don't know that I could take the Caffeine Clan more often.