Joni Mitchell’s vision is literally happening directly outside of my apartment. “They paved paradise; put up a parking lot.” It seems I can never move anywhere and just be left in peace.
There’s always a dummy running around promising this thing is going to be a crushing landslide for our side. I have been that dummy. And yet, I’m still here on Nov. 4 staring at a result of Biden 227, Trump 213. I mean, they warned us, they kept warning us that we’d be waiting a while, but I wanted to be the bright light in the room. More than that, I wanted to put the good conclusion out into the universe. I mean, I’m not really a spiritual guy, but I’ve read Richard Bach.
Besides, what if Biden had shot out of the gate with a 290 last night? That would be a neat trick!
Anyway, I won’t apologize for being that guy.
Wait. CNN just called Wisconsin for Biden. 237.
Anyway. That’s the kind of day it is. A real nailbiter. We’re not going to take the Senate; I’m not sure about the House. My guy Joe Morelle is in good shape. Even without the Senate though, we’ll be in better shape with a Biden administration. At least the guy knows how the Senate works. And we’ll have Vice President Harris set up a cot there to be present to break ties.
All right. Time to put on some sweatpants and go to work
A Facebook friend shared a horribly spelled Starbucks order, so I shared this. I’ve always liked it and haven’t been able to do anything with it:
I have a whole bit on this, a guy with a name like “Aaron,” with the soft vowel and the soft consonant, and always having the deli guy call out for “Eric” or “Darin, ” and so he starts telling the deli guy his name is “Eddie.” But his co-workers who go to lunch with him think it’s funny, so they start calling him “Eddie” around the office. So one day, he gets into a lather about it and says come on guys. I’m only Eddie at the Deli. I’m Deli Eddie. So of course, the co-workers start calling him “Deli Eddie.” What none of these wisenheimers know is that there’s a local mob family called Deliedie. Hijinks ensue. ::Seinfeld theme plays::
So Monday during my work-at-home shift, there was a knock at my door. It was building maintenance. They wanted access to my heat so they could flush it out. The way the heat works in our building apparently is it runs from one end of the building to the other, so if there’s a clog anywhere in the thing, then nobody gets heat. They’ve had to do this before a few years ago. So I donned a mask and let them in.
The problem is that now the heat works. It works no matter how I have the thermostat set. It is currently set to 0, but the heat still is on strong. It’s not the thermostat because that was replaced. It’s just the way the heat works. Mi calor, tu calor.
So, why don’t you just open a window, you say. Well, I’d love to do that. Let in some of that beautiful crisp fall air! That would be lovely. Except there is an industrial construction project on the lot across the way, and it is the most noise one could imagine, especially when the dump trucks clang their buckets around. I tried the open window thing one day this week. The air was wonderful. The noise made me want to murder.
Nope, the windows have to stay shut, but that means I’m running the air conditioner the week of Samhain. It’s ridiculous.
While I’m complaining: Can ya’ll leave your strong scents at home and not bathe in them before you go to the store? You smell fine. But your use of toxic smelly stuff was hard enough to manage before the plague. Now we’re all walking around with our snouts covered. That makes it even worse. Stop it.
There, I said it.
And now, a public service announcement from Record Archive here in Rochester. Sad news.
Record Archive will be closed for the next few days. We have had one staff member who tested positive for COVID-19 as of Thursday morning. We are having all staff get tested for COVID-19.
Please follow us on social media for reopening updates. Please feel free to reach out if you have any questions or concerns.
As everyone’s health is our number one priority we have chosen to close temporarily to clean and sanitize our store to provide a safe environment for all that enter these doors.
We are having our entire 13,000 square foot space fumigated today.
If youâ€™ve visited the Record Archive during the following times you may have been exposed to COVID-19. Please contact your health care provider for guidance.
10/24 2pm – 6pm
10/26 11am – 7pm
10/27 11am – 7pm
10/28 10am – 12pm
We are in contact with the Health Department and are following their recommendations as well as our own safety plan.
We take the health and safety of our employees and community very seriously. We have been diligently following the guidelines since reopening and will continue to do so.
– Record Archive
At age 52, I am just now understanding the utility of non-chlorine bleach. That, I think, is called “growth.”
That was a nice birthday. It started with a nice dinner at the farm with my dear old dad and rebel girl mom, with bumpka stew as the meal, and it was delicious. The next day, I made the 3-hour drive to my own little Star’s Hollow for a visit with mom and my lake. As previously noted, they are doing this thing decorating street signs that’s pretty neat. Next week is some sort of arts even there, and the artists will stand by their works throughout lakeside for a little tour. I told you this place is like Star’s Hollow.
A lot of weird tech things happened while I was there. The local network at the house was interrupted, so we had to reset the Tivo and replace the remote batteries. I set up mom’s classic JVC tuner downstairs so she can blast her Norah Jones CDs. I cannot begin to tell you how beautiful this equipment is. I’ve harangued her for years after she once casually mentioned that maybe she’d be getting rid of this beautiful-sounding tuner. “Don’t you dare,” I’d bark. “That tuner is my true inheritance.” Now, it can provide tunes at the lakehouse. A good use for it indeed.
I also got my oil changed and cleaned up the sidebar of this blog. Much tidier ===>
I had to reset the smart plug, an hour of work just so I can tell Alexa to turn off a light. Worth it.
And, Apple Music on my Mac stopped recognizing my iPad. That one took me the better part of the day before I finally concluded it was a trust issue that could be addressed in the “location” area in the finder sidebar. I am pleased to not have to call Apple help for the first time in my life.
Other challenges of this trip: Can’t hug Mom. Can’t really go out to do much. Can’t eat at restaurants. Despite these, the trip was refreshing and, I think, necessary. I have brought a bit of lake air back with me. I can still smell it; I can still feel it. And it lightens me a little.
Here in Edinboro, Pa., when I was a kid, street signs were these four-foot-tall white concrete monoliths with the street names in black lettering. I reckon they thought that was a rustic little touch to Lakeside. At some point, though, this borough had to put up real street signs, probably at the behest of PENNDOT or some other crazy liberal big-government nonsense.
These days though when you’re walking around Lakeside, you notice that these posts seem a bit more colorful. It seems the fad now is to paint the things. Here’s one I made a picture of yesterday while Mom and I were out for a typical lake walk.
Of course it is dog-themed. I think Edinboro has more dogs than people.
Anyway, here’s the scoop on all the post painting. Edinboro is like that, community-minded and crafty. I noticed as we walked yesterday that it’s also a good excuse for neighbors to have some new conversations.
This, of course, while maintaining a healthy six-foot distance.
It feels pretty good after six months in maintaining a comfort bubble within Monroe County, New York, to bust out and finally send a little time at my lake. I am right now this morning watching the most screamy children I’ve ever witnessed play at the playground across the street. Beyond that in my eyeshot is the pretty, spring-fed lake that draws people here, a little choppy this morning. Mom and I are having a nice, albeit socially distanced, visit. I had to have her watch my favorite new whodunnit Knives Out last night, and I think it was a hit. I liked it better the second time around; that is a good movie.
There is even less to do here than usual. Many antique shops are open by appointment only, the campus is sparsely populated, and we are still not as lulled as a Trump fan that sidling up to the bar at the Edinboro Hotel is a great idea. But it sure is pretty. And we have these new decorated posts to look at.
Rule #1 : Don’t major in journalism.
A few years ago, there was a Macy’s in the mall near where I lived, and it was closing. I was trying to outfit my apartment, so I figured there would be bargains to be had, so I walked in. And it was one of the most depressing scenes I have ever witnessed. They were mainly selling rugs, some arcane furniture nobody would buy, and the store fixtures themselves, the counters, the display cases, anything anything, you could probably make an offer on somebody’s toupee and they would have sold it. And as I walked through this disaster knowing I would not be buying anything, I walked by one former jewelry counter, and there was a black woman saying “stop it, no, we can’t go back home, you play with that phone and sit there” or something like that. This woman took this job, probably as a temp? or she worked for them before and was trying to earn a few bucks before everything got closed? I don’t know which. But she had a 4 or 6 year old kid sitting on the floor in her counter in the midst of a situation where she would only in a few minutes or a day or a week or a month where she would be losing her “job.” And despite that desperate, hopeless choice for a “job” that was destined to end, that promised no future, no sustainable living, despite that, she had to make her child play on her phone on the dirty carpet in a department store just to keep paying the rent. Every time I think about public policy these days, I think about that woman. The only thing that government should be doing is taking care of her. And it does nothing but. Shame on this country. Shame on your stupid, short-sighted ass.