A Road Isn’t Built in a Day

It’s never a good sign when there’s a steam shovel on your street.

It never leads to any good.

It’s not like they’re gonna dig a big hole in front of your house and pull out a chest full of gold.

It’s more likely they’re gonna dig a big hole in front of your house and find another big hole in your sewer pipe.

Or worse, that noisy neighbor who mysteriously disappeared back in the 70’s. along with his 8 track tapes.

Actually, I’m not even sure it’s even called a steam shovel any more.

But you know what I mean.

That big thing that looks like some sort of prehistoric monster, with the guy sitting inside working the controls, unless he’s in between holes, in which case the guy just sits there and reads the newspaper.

And I was right…it wasn’t a good sign, at all.

Before I knew it they were blocking off my street and digging up the pavement.

I mean, do you know how long it took me to draw that hop scotch board?

But I suppose it was overdue.

The chalk was starting to fade and the pot holes even had pot holes, now.

In fact they had already repaved the first half of the street about 2 years ago, but stopped just as they got to my house.

Never knew why and couldn’t get an answer, even when I interrupted the guy sitting in the steam shovel.

“Beats me,” he said. “I just does what I’m told.”

And it’s not like it’s a big street…in fact it’s not even a street at all…it’s only a “Place”…about 200 yards or so long.

That’s what it’s called…Place. Not Street, Avenue, Lane, Drive or my personal favorite Boulevard…just Place.  

I live on a Place. I guess it doesn’t get any simpler than that.

Everyone has to be some place.

I guess it could be worse.

I guess they could call it “Thing”.

Or maybe just “There”.

“Where do you live?

“I live There….”

“Oh, I hear There is nice”.

“It is…it’s close to Thing”.

“Thing can get noisy, especially in the summer”.

“I used to live on It, but I couldn’t take the traffic”.

“Yeah, It is busy”.

“It is….”

So they’re finally repaving the rest of this Place…where I live.

No more feeble attempts at filling pot holes with some sort of gooey gravel, that pretty much just ends up on my sidewalk and lawn after 2 or 3 cars drive over it.

No more mystery thumps or screeching tires and breaks in the middle of the night, as cars drive across the irregular and hazardous surface, sometimes disappearing into a crevice until light.

So maybe it’s not so bad when a steam shovel shows up on your street, after all.

Once you get by all the heavy machinery noise, dust and boisterous hole digging songs; when you’re finally able to move your car out of your driveway, without scraping the muffler off the bottom of your car …you now have a road that drives as smooth as a silk scarf…or a sow’s purse…one or the other, not sure.

And if you're able to avoid a run in with the Steam Roller—a particular family tradition of ours…don't ask—then you're good to go.. 

Of course, now the other half of the road is all torn up again…but baby steps…baby steps.

Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Only their roads…..

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Who’s Driving, Now?

They’re saying that in just a few years there will be cars that drive themselves…presumably with you in them.

Well, not you specifically. I mean all of us, which will lead to a very crowded situation.

I call SHOTGUN!

Sorry….

But seriously...folks such as Google, Nissan, Ford, General Motors, Toyota, my cousin Lenny…are all working on cars that require nothing from you but to take it out and get its motor running.

I suggest you talk up their rear fenders, and mention those new tires, because, well, who doesn’t like to hear nice things about their rear end and new tread wear.

Apparently, there are still quite a few kinks to work out, which accounts for the still several years down the road—so to speak—delay before their release; things such as figuring out how to avoid running into bikes and motorcycles. But once they get that down, they’ll be good to go.

Of course timeline projections, when it comes to these ground breaking innovations such as self-driving cars and fat free potato chips, can be somewhat unreliable.

Can you spell Olestra?

Oh, wait. I guess I just did it for you.

Fact is—or what passes for my version of fact— there’s already some of this driverless technology in place.  Cars are able to stay in their lanes and brake themselves, all on their own, just in case the driver has just made it through to the three thousandth level of Candy Crush and is too busy to brake themselves.

There’s also talk of some sort of system where the car will somehow alert unaware pedestrians, via their smart phones, that they are about to get run over.

I guess if you’re crossing the street and a distracted driver doesn’t see you, or does see you but doesn’t like your new haircut, the approaching car will somehow send you a text of some sort.

I guess something along the lines of … “WATCH OUT!!!!”

Which should help…somewhat

Then there are the more conservative prognosticators that say driverless cars really won’t be common place for another 20 years or so.

To be honest, that’s more than okay with me since that should be right about the time I start driving around with my right hand turn signal set on “Always”. 

Of course, like every exciting new innovation that comes along, there will be drawbacks to such convenience.

First, who will “one’s” spouse know to “gently suggest” to slow down, turn here, and watch for the red light…“one” or the computer?

Personally, I hope the computer, because the computer can exact its revenge in much more subtle ways than I can, such as messing with the heat setting in the passenger seat. 

Currently, “one’s” only recourse is to respond in a civil, dignified manner, alerting said spouse to the errors of his or her’s ways, while trying to remove his or her's foot off of mine—er, I mean “one’s”—on the brake peddle.

The other thing is who’s to say the computer driving the car will enjoy my stories, especially on long trips.  What if it insists on playing the radio loud, to drown me out, or worse, refuses to let me play my “Best of Leo Sayer” CDs.

Then there’s also the matter of comfort and convenience along the way.

What if the computer thinks pulling into the rest stop every 5 miles is excessive?

What does a computer know?

Has the computer ever been to a urologist?

Does it carry a “Frequent Voider” card?

And what if it’s attracted to the wrong kind of artificial intelligence? 

Is it going to want to pull over to the side of the road and do whatever it is computers do to show off for all the cute mother boards passing by?

All genuine concerns.

In the meantime, I think I’ll just be satisfied with my new smart ass phone for now…

Once I figured out all its ins and outs it pretty much just does what I tell it to do.

Except like now, when it’s telling me I forgot to do the breakfast dishes again, and to not even think about having lunch until they're done!

But I don’t mind that kind of thing, too much; I deserve it.

Just don’t tell it I forgot to change my socks again.

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The Sunday Archive of Retort - 11/9/11

Last week we turned the clocks back an hour.

At least we should have.

If you're like me and you didn't, then you found yourself surprisingly on time all week.

Now you know why....


From 11/9/11

It Gets Late Early

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Nothing Doing November

We’re a week into November and of course you know what that means.

You do?

Really?

Well, then tell me, because I have no idea what that means.  

Unless of course you’re a Turkey—I mean a real Turkey, not like my cousin Louise—in which case you might want to consider making out of town travel plans.

But, really, where can you go if you’re a Turkey around here, especially this time of year?

I guess Canada….or New Jersey.

Canada is preoccupied with all the geese, so you could probably slide by.

And New Jersey has so many malls you could easily blend in and get lost there….plus find a bargain on Turtlenecks.

I know…none of that makes any sense at all.

I’m just pushing the envelope a little too hard right now.

But what can I say…it’s a week into November.

November is just a funny time of year, especially before Thanksgiving…which, by the way, is gonna be late this year.

I’m not sure why.

Something about the calendar, the sun and the moon, and the day the new iPads came out.

So it’s gonna be late.

Which gives the Turkeys—

Sorry…old habits.

November….

The leaves look nice…especially the ones I track in the house.

I don’t why Z doesn’t appreciate them the way I do.

Speaking of Z…her birthday is in November.

She’s gonna be—

Oops!  Almost got me….

November….

A lot of people think Turkeys are just dumb birds.

That they don’t even really fly…at least not all that well.

But don’t think that makes them dumb.

I have a friend who doesn’t fly very well either…if at all.

And she’s a paralegal.

So who looks dumb now?

Right…I hear you.

November….

And it’s never too early to start showing all those heartfelt TV Christmas movies…let alone the commercials.

Like when that guy, surprises his wife on Christmas Eve with a diamond pendant.

If I gave Z a diamond pendant she’d be surprised too.

If I wrapped it, she’d be even more surprised.

And if we made it to New Years Eve without the police serving up a search warrant, that would be the biggest surprise of all.

Usually, we  never make it past Boxing Day, which annoys me because I always miss the boxing.

Sorry….

November….

It’s never too early to get a jump on your holiday decorating. Especially your outside holiday decorating.

You know, pull out all the lights and such and see what needs replacing.

Make sure you have enough extension cords, scotch tape and bows.

I like to plan ahead myself, which is why I’ve already pulled the Christmas tree out from behind the garage. 

Okay, it’s a little on the brown side…and most of the needles fell off a couple of years ago…but I said most…not all.

I’m sure we can squeeze one more year out of it…especially if we use lots of tinsel.

Speaking of which, I better see if the tinsel is done drying. I’m not making the same mistake I made last year. 

This year I’m using the permanent press setting.

Do you know how long it took Z to get those wrinkles out?

November….

See…it’s not so bad.

Lots and lots to do….

Right after my nap.

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Cable Connection

The cable guy is here, right now.

I’ve been having some problems with my internet and phone cutting in and out over the last few months, and lately it’s been happening every few hours…intermittently of course.

Which means…not when he’s actually here to check it.

Only after he leaves….

But that’s okay…I don’t mind wasting 10 or 12 hours every few weeks waiting for a “Technician” to come to my house.

I mean, after all, it is a “Technician”.  I should be honored.

Right?

So the “Technician” is here right now poking around the wires outside my house.

But like I said…he won’t find anything.

That’s what I always tell them when I call…it’s not me it’s you.

But of course they immediately instruct me to “Boot” my box, which always hurts my foot, not to mention my box, and then, after that fails—and why wouldn’t it—they insist on sending someone out anyway, saying it could be a bad connection on the pole, or on the house, or in the house, or in somebody’s house.

So they come….

And so I wait….

But they have a better system in place now, so it’s not as disruptive to your day as it used to be.

Instead of sitting around for 10 hours, afraid to do anything—and I mean ANYTHING—lest you

miss their knock on the door…they call first to confirm.

Then you sit around for 10 hours, after they call, afraid to do anything—and I mean ANYTHING—lest you miss their knock on the door….

But these days, the “Technician” also calls when he’s on his way and tell you it’s okay to use the John.

So I can’t complain.

When the “Technician” does arrive, he greets you, warmly, even though you detect he’s not all that pleased with the substitute Oreos, you serve him.

What…I’m supposed to ignore the sale brand?

Then after a few minutes of small talk, and another glass of milk—I don’t know what’s wrong with 1%...it’s better for you—he asks to see the “madam”, which I found odd, because I don’t know what Z has to do with any of our cable problems.

Of course, I tell him she’s at work, which doesn’t seem to faze him—I mean, at all—because he simply pushes past me and goes into my upstairs office, where that little do-hickey thing with all the lights is.

I ask him if he thinks that’s where the problem is, because I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

He just grunts.

I tell him in the past, I suspected there was some sort of a pattern to all the blinking lights, and that some sort of message was being conveyed…like, “Hey…all is good, today…make sure to bring an umbrella.”

Another grunt.

“But lately I’ve been detecting a little more attitude, and it totally missed that late afternoon shower the other day.”

The “Technician” now un-plugs the blinking do-hickey, which kind of makes me wince, seeing it in all its un-blinkingness, but I suppose it had it coming. He then detaches the main cable and hooks up some sort of fancy electronic gadget that immediately starts to flash all kinds of readings and numbers that the “Technician” begins to hurriedly jot down.

This pleases me, because it’s obvious we’re making some sort of headway towards pin-pointing the problem, plus he also tells me, I should take the Packer’s minus the points this weekend and reads me an amusing comment from his Twitter feed.

He then asks me, if I’ve been having any “Pixilation” problems, which I answer by saying, “No…not since the summer, since most of the Pixie’s around here don’t seem to like the cool weather.”

To which he merely offers another grunt and says he’s going to check all my “connections”, which I don’t have a problem with, as long as that woman in Miami keeps her trap shut like we agreed.

And that’s where we left off, before he headed outside.

Oh, look. Now he’s across the street up on the pole. 

Well, he’s not actually up on the pole. Right now he’s hanging by one leg on the cable.

Look at him…swinging back and forth, waving his arms.

Such a show off…but a friendly show off.

I guess in the end it’s worth all the inconvenience and aggravation, after all. 

I mean, where else can you get this kind of entertainment?

In fact I’m gonna go make my appointment for next week, right now.

I can already feel my “Signals” dropping.

Not good….

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The Sunday Archive of Retort - 11//18/11

It's that time of year again, when every day we say goodbye to one loyal, faithful, leaf, after another.

The trees preparing for the long cold winter ahead, strip themselves bare.  Leaves falling to the ground, decaying... providing nutrients on which the tree, itself, will feed. 

That is until the army of leaf blower guys show up and screw up the whole Hakuna Matata thing.

From 11/18/11:

The Circle of Leaves

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Another Halloween…in the books

Another Halloween is in the books

It’s the day after and I’m still pretty beat.

It’s getting harder and harder to wash the eggs off my car, every year

Even harder to throw them.

At least they’re good eggs…organic, I think from the new Whole Foods.

They really don’t smell as bad when the yoke congeals.

Besides that, we must have given out well over a thousand pieces of candy last night…minus the couple of dozen pieces I ate myself.

We get a lot of kids…like in the movies, “A lot of kids”.

I think because word got out that we actually have more than our share of real ghouls living on the street.

Well, mostly living.

You know…Zombies, vampires, witches…that kind of ghoul.

Even a nice family of werewolves.

I mean, most of the time they’re nice. You just don’t want to be around them when their newspaper is late.

But who doesn’t get annoyed by that?

So the kids come, fill the streets and really eat the monsters up…which is a nice change.

But it also means we have to a have a lot of candy on hand, because no one wants to be outdone by the undead.

Plus you don’t want to run out of treats and force a kid to trick you.

That puts a lot of pressure on a 6 year old.

Of course, last year, most folks, like me, who live in the northeast, were left holding the bag…or bags by “Super Storm Sandy”. Literally, about 10 bags totaling over a thousand pieces of candy.

Amidst all the devastation, Halloween was postponed, deservedly so, and no one was quite sure when it was re-scheduled. I even had some “Trick or Treaters” stop by in March, dressed as politicians…but for the most part they weren’t very believable.

So , even I couldn’t take care of all the leftovers.  There must have been a half dozen or so jawbreakers left at Thanksgiving.

Activity in the neighborhood was also at an all-time low.

But not this year…this year it was Trick or Treat central again.

Kind of nice to see because when I was a kid, there wasn’t as much hub bub on the streets…but I still loved Halloween.

It was the only time I could walk around the neighborhood and people didn’t make fun of what I was wearing.

When I was real little, I dressed mostly in those store bought jobs with the ill-fitting masks that made it difficult to see, let alone breath.

But that was half the fun.

I was everything: Zoro, Bozo, Superman, Raggedy Ann (my year of confusion) to my best but most obscure costume…Elio Chicon the second baseman for the NY Mets in 1962, which my dad insisted everyone would get.

They didn’t.

Ahhhhh…Those were the days.

Now, all the kids go out in these elaborate outfits that look like they were designed by Hollywood special effects guys.

Some are so realistic, they’re down-right spooky, which led to the confusion that time when one of the actual Zombies stopped by to chew the fat.

Luckily, he brought his own.

And every year, it seems the kids gravitate to whatever character from whatever movie or TV show is popular at that moment.

Buzz Lightyear, Batman, Little Mermaid, Iron Man, Thor.

A few years back, before I knew who Hannah Montana was, I couldn’t understand why the streets were filled with all these little girls in blonde wigs and short skirts.

This year, I half expected to see those same girls dressed up like the current version of Hannah, but luckily we were spared, except for my neighbor Ira who looked pretty good with that spiked hairdo and, to be honest, really knows how to work the twerk. .

So, as I said at the beginning, because you have to start some place….another Halloween is in the books.

I’ve seen a lot of them. Knocked on a lot of doors and rang a lot of bells…maybe even yours.

I was the one about 3 feet tall in the blue Mets cap, pounding my glove yelling “Yo la tengo, Yo la tengo.”

I was very believable…and you would have known that if you were a Met fan…and opened up the door…

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