The Band Plays On

Adam is all settled into his new place. Besides a few glitches concerning his move-in date, his wireless internet connection, and the installation of his U-verse cable service, things have gone fairly well for him. Students are beginning to trickle back to campus for the new school year, which begins September 8, and the neighborhood surrounding the apartment seems to be very pleasant.

Adam's roommate, Mike, specifically chose the apartment location two years ago because it was close to the marching band's practice field. Mike used to be a band member, but has since quit. Adam was aware that the band practiced nearby, but he never expected the brusque awakening that he got on his first morning in the apartment. After going to bed around 3 a.m. - which is actually fairly early for Adam, but neither the internet nor television worked yet - he was shocked to hear loud noises outside shortly after 9 a.m. He peeked out the window and saw the entire U of M marching band's drumline poised and practicing. And, as if the booming, steady beat of the drums did not cause enough of a racket, he also heard a relentless piercing beep coming from some sort of metronome. Adam's fan, which we always thought was hideously loud at our house, proved to be no match for the rhythmic reverberations of the university's drummers. He claims that he managed to get a little more sleep that morning, but referred to the commotion outside as "obnoxious."

Evidently, the drumline continues to rehearse in front of Adam's apartment, but lately they have not begun quite as early in the day. Adam says that when they begin at 2 p.m., they pound away until 10 p.m. You have to admire the dedication of those band members. At the same time, you understand why Mike might have abandoned that whole scene - what a huge time commitment! Once school starts, the drummers will obviously not be able to practice as frequently, which will be a huge relief to Adam. I have always loved listening to and watching marching bands, but somehow I don't think that Adam will ever develop the same type of adoration after this experience.

Cobra's Rebuttal and My Own Folklore

I received an email from my friend, Cobra, after she read my latest post. (See "Faux Folklore" below.) In the post, I professed how disappointed I was when Cobra revealed to me that all of the myth and lore tales she has told me over the years were lies. In her recent email, she confessed that she had not made up the stories after all, but had only said that because I was teasing her about them. So, seemingly, all of Cobra's folklore is indeed true, and, in order to avoid further confusion, I will leave it at that!

One of my own favorite folk tales is one that I read in the Old Farmer's Almanac. The article claimed that cows will stand up when the weather is fair, and will sit down if rain is approaching. There were numerous reasons given for this, but the only one I remember is that the cow may be trying to keep the area beneath it dry. Whenever we are on a road trip and see bovine in a pasture, I always take note if they are standing. If only half are standing, I confidently predict a 50% chance of rain. I understand how Cobra might feel about being mocked, though, because Jim and the boys taunt me and laugh at me every single time I make a cow-guided forecast. I must say, however, that the cows are correct well over half of the time. Can Adam beat those odds?

Faux Folklore

I have always admired my good friend, Cobra. Whenever we are together, I marvel that she is so knowledgeable about legends and myths and lore - particularly those regarding nature. I never hesitate to pass along her wisdom to others, as every tale she tells is helpful and fascinating. Over the years, Cobra has taught me so many things, like if a such-and-such flower blooms early, then summer will be cool. Or if certain insects are prevalent, then autumn will be mild. Or if there is dew on the grass, there will not be any rain for a particular amount of time. And if this happens, then that will occur. And so on and so on and so on. I cannot even recall how many times I have proudly bragged to others, "Of course that story is true, Cobra told me so."

Something happened this summer that totally shattered my idolization of Cobra.

The two of us were sitting outside one evening when I mentioned that one of her folklore weather phenomena was transpiring right there before our eyes. Cobra looked at me and snickered, "Oh, I just made that up."

"Uh . . . what?"

I was certain that she was joking around, as adult beverages had been flowing for a few hours. I reminded Cobra of how many times she had told me that same story, and she continued laughing, "Nope, I really made it up." I then questioned her regarding the numerous other authentic-sounding tales she had told me in the past, and she admitted that she had fabricated all of them. I was stunned. Just how much false information have I innocently been passing on to other people all these years? If any of it ever comes back to torment me, I will just blame everything on Cobra. She is such a convincing fabricator, though, I wonder if anyone will believe me?

Adam's New Place

Adam moved into his apartment on campus today. His friend, Mike, has lived in the place for the past two years with a guy from Ohio. When that roommate moved away, the empty bedroom became available for Adam. We spent the entire day tidying up the bedroom, as the previous roomie was a bit slovenly. After much elbow grease, the bedroom is now in nice shape and Adam has brought most of his stuff to his new digs. We will miss the Rockband game around our house because Adam has relocated that to the new pad. (I suppose this is where I should add that, of course, we will miss Adam, too, and not just Rockband!) The apartment is close to the stadium, and would be a very fun place to hang out on a football Saturday. We might not be able to get tickets to a game, but we could sit on Adam's balcony and people-watch instead!

Sweaty McSweaty

Jacob and I stopped at Office Max the other day and ended up doing some impulse buying. Really, who could pass up a notebook for a penny? Jacob chose five of the ultra-reasonably-priced notebooks and I found a spiral-bound planner that I needed. We proceeded to the checkout and set our six items in a tidy stack on the counter. Both Jacob and I immediately noticed that the cashier was perspiring profusely. Beads of sweat were rolling off the man's face and onto our merchandise. Ew. The cashier began scanning the top notebook and asked, "Do you have six of these?" Before I could answer, he repeatedly passed the hand-held scanner over the bar code of the top notebook. More perspiration trickled onto our purchases. Ew.

Cashier: "You know, you can only buy three of these notebooks at the one-cent price."
Me: "Ok, just leave three on this order and he (gesturing at Jacob) will buy the other two. And, by the way, this bottom one is not a penny notebook, it is a planner." (I pulled out the more expensive planner and placed it aside. The sweaty man looked confused.)
Cashier: "Uh . . ." (He ran the price scanner six times over the top notebook. The register read three notebooks at one cent and three notebooks at eighty-nine cents. I should have let it go at that, as eighty-nine cents would have been a sweet deal for the planner. More sweat drizzled onto our stuff.)
Me: "Could you, um, please take the last three items off of here. First of all, this one is a planner. It costs more. And, he (pointing at Jacob once again) will pay for the last two notebooks." (I wiped some moisture off the top notebook. Ew.)
Cashier: "Uh . . ." (He removed the bottom three items off of the bill and dripped some more.)
Me: "Now, you can put this planner on this first bill. Just leave those two notebooks off." (I separated everything to make it easier for him. He scanned and secreted more sweat.)

I paid for the first order and gave Jacob two cents for the other two notebooks. The cashier scanned and dribbled continuously onto our last two items. He then handed all of our receipts to me and mumbled vacantly, "Thank you, sir." I let out a mock scoff and he quickly corrected himself, "Uh, ma'am."

Jacob, who politely waited until we were outside to comment about the perspiring cashier, said, "Wow, that guy was really sweaty. Super sweaty. Sweaty McSweaty." Now, I could understand a hormonal woman perspiring like that, but a 30-something man? The poor guy was not having a good day.

We wiped off our damp purchases and drove home.

Busted Bunny

I was up much earlier than usual on Sunday morning as I had to drop Jim off at the airport. (He and his new boss from Houston are meeting at their company headquarters in Calgary this week. All I ask is that the two of them come up with an exact date that Jim will start working in Texas so I can more accurately plan the important things in our future - like vacations and such.) Anyway, when I was pulling back into the driveway around 7:30 a.m., I saw a rabbit sitting in the middle of my flower bed greedily munching on what is left of my blue verbenas. I attempted to stealthily grab my camera and snap a picture of the little devil, but it took off like a shot as soon as it heard me. Apparently even the expensive rabbit repellent - appropriately named "Scoot" - that we spray on the annuals is no match for the wicked varmints. I am thinking that perhaps next year I will just resort to plastic flowers, which would save both money and aggravation.

The Tutor's House

Jacob recently started working with an academic tutor who specializes in teaching dyslexic students. She lives in a beautiful Victorian-style house that is filled with lovely antique furniture and vintage knick-knacks. When we walked into the tutor's home for Jacob's first lesson, we noticed some unusually loud tick-tick-ticking sounds. We were also greeted by an old snorting pug dog that we learned was not only blind, but deaf as well. As we nonchalantly glanced around to determine where the clamorous ticking noises were coming from, we saw clocks hanging on all of the walls and sitting on all of the shelves. Many, many clocks. More clocks, in fact, than I have ever seen in one place. The tutor led us into the dining room where she indicated that she and Jacob would work. She handed me some forms to read and complete, so I sat at the table to fill them out. The ticking of the multiple clocks was so obtrusive that I could barely concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing. When one o'clock arrived minutes later, I was certain that the chiming and bonging would never stop. I finally asked the tutor exactly how many clocks she owned and she answered matter-of-factly, "Seventy-five." As the hourly deluge eventually quieted down, we were then confronted by a rhythmic wheeze-grunt-yip, wheeze-grunt-yip racket from beneath the table. A quick glance confirmed that the elderly pug was asleep at Jacob's feet. Between the incessant ticking and the unrelenting canine snoring, I wondered if Jacob would even be able to focus on the teacher's instructions. Though he agreed that the noises were quite distracting, his biggest complaint about the tutor's house has been the uncomfortableness of her dining room chairs. While I did find them somewhat hard, Jacob refers to them as "butt crushers." Since he seems to be getting used to the clocks and the dog, I will just bring him a pillow or cushion to sit on next week, and, hopefully, he will continue making progress with this dyslexia tutelage.

Camping

Last Thursday, we, along with 23 of our friends and relatives, hit the road to the Sleeping Bear Dunes for our annual camping trip. Overall, the weather was nice the entire weekend, with the exception of a two hour downpour on Saturday morning. (I never realized that golf umbrellas were such fabulous devices!) We sat on the beach, went canoeing, ate, drank, and spent time hanging around the campfire. Some of the heartier in our group went on a grueling hike across the sand dunes to Lake Michigan, and back again. The "Bear Hike" is a yearly event that I avoid like the plague ever since I participated once a long time ago. In my opinion, it is a brutal experience that just leaves you in a sunburned, fatigued, aching state. Which is why I was skeptical about allowing Jacob to go even after he nagged me incessantly to give him permission. To make a long story short, Jacob did make the trek with nine others and apparently had no problems at all. In fact, he had a wonderful time. Jacob was the youngest (or at least one of the youngest) to ever complete the hike and earned himself a new nickname - Spike. The weekend was a blast, and was made even better with the return of some friends who have been absent for quite a few years. Welcome back Fatty, Cobra, May, & Hollie!

Jake slept in his own tent again this year.

Muffin climbed a tree.

A nighttime bandit came searching for food.

A big group took off on the 6-hour hike. A few of the wiser ones only went partway.

Texas Y'all

After much speculation, gossip, and innuendo, Jim's company today announced that his position will be relocated to Houston, Texas after the first of next year. We have been anticipating this news, and, with the economy being the way it is, are very happy that they want to keep Jim in their employment, as many of his coworkers are simply being "transitioned out." His company offers wonderful benefits, and since he has been with them for almost 30 years, he has accrued lots of vacation time as well. It wasn't a very difficult decision, therefore, to accept the job transfer, and we are actually even becoming a little excited. Jim's plan is to rent an apartment in Houston, and Jacob and I will split our time between Michigan and Texas. Adam will do his own thing, but I'm sure he will want to visit the Lone Star State as often as possible. We intend to get a two or three bedroom place down there, so hopefully friends and family will feel free to drop in anytime and stay a spell.

I Hate Rabbits

Our neighborhood rabbits are on the warpath again this summer. They have eaten approximately 100 of my lovely quartz blue verbena annuals. The flowers were growing in the bed right next to our front porch, and had recently started to fill out and bloom beautifully. One day they were gorgeous. The next day they were gone. Oddly, the evil creatures ate only the purple-y blue blossoms off the top of the verbenas, leaving the rest of the foliage untouched. Instead of using my old standby rabbit repellents of cayenne pepper, baby powder, beer, or mothballs, I went all out this time. I purchased some pricey rabbit-be-gone spray that gives the yard the essence of an Italian restaurant because it has a rather pungent garlic odor. After spraying liberally for a week now, it is hard to tell if the critters have moved on or not since it will most likely take a while for any new flowers to bloom again. At least the neighbors might think that I am doing some cooking around here, anyway, since a garlic scent is often wafting near the front of the house. If the flowers ever do grow back, I will snap some pictures to post, because all I have now are photos of sad green stems and leaves.

Forty Years Ago

On July 20, 1969, I was on vacation with my family in Michigan's upper peninsula. We had gathered with some other relatives at my Aunt Mary's house to watch a special report on television. Some little news story about two Apollo 11 astronauts walking on the moon. I was quite impressed with our country's accomplishment, and proud that we had beat the Russians to the lunar surface. That was a big deal back then. I remember some company holding a contest, too, where people tried to guess what Neil Armstrong's first words would be as he stepped onto the moon. I recall much hoopla and excitement that night, and over the next few weeks.

One of the most comical things that resulted from the Apollo moon landings was a saying that became very popular over the years. Whenever something went mechanically wrong with almost any item, someone would inevitably say, "Geez, we can put a man on the moon, but we can't make a fill-in-the-blank that works." I have heard these words uttered continuously over the past four decades, and I have even found myself using the catchy phrase from time to time when something has broken down. Apparently rocket science leads not only to great universal discoveries, but to witty expressions as well.