That three throw closeout

Events this past week have brought my head space back twenty years in some ways. A lot of thinking where I was, where I went and why, and where I am now. Somewhere in all that is the how.

And it's such a horrible tragedy, that accident involving the hockey kids in Saskatchewan. Communities are devastated, social lives are centered around those junior leagues on the prairies. They were good kids, I met a few like them, back in the day.

Last night one of our new neighbors invited us over to their place for beers and an outdoor fire. We had a very good time, a beer too many in my case and walked two blocks home. I have not been able to do that for years, maybe since when we lived by the Crest Tavern, when it had real dartboards.

A British dart throwing legend died last week. I was not familiar with him, but my wife was, and friends of mine. I have a board, a good one, waiting to be set up on a bare wall downstairs. I just can't find my darts right now. So I've put a set on my Amazon list. I'm one click away.

There are a lot of things I'm missing right now: the address on a water bill, my concentration to be able to read a freaking book, let alone write anything coherent or meaningful. Some days, when you're under the stress of finally finding a summer caregiver for your son, or selling a house that has a nice personality but some real problems underneath, it's all you can do to be able to get up in the morning with not quite hangover but a bloated uneasy feeling in your gut. I'm so grateful and lucky to have the space to go to and try to get through it all.

A crowded room is a burning battlefield

No one has captured my recent mood more than Jason Isbell. I first heard this it really hit home. Then he opened his show with it.



It's been rough since the accident. A lot of post trauma. Looking at every corner for the car that I was. I struggle with confidence and break out in rashes.

The streets were full of slow moving cars

My son started school today and is technically in ninth grade. It's hard enough to let that try and sink in before realizing he will be fifteen in two weeks. He's growing taller, his feet are almost as big as mine and we're going out for new shoes this weekend.

The rest is still unknown.

Received a direct message a couple of days ago from a person who had never heard of Tom Lehrer before they came across my blog. The person was having a rough time of it recently and the discovery of his music really improved their mood. I was thanked profusely.

Glad that I could make a difference in a small, positive way. Something I thought about after a rough day in which I sat in traffic four about three and a half out of four hours straight then walked into a boisterous and loud restaurant when all I wanted was a tiny bit of peace and quiet. I plodded through, and my lovely wife did her best to improve my own stressed out ass.

Now if we all could try and make that much of a difference to better shit.

Seat the retreat

It’s been just over a month since I got the guitar. I’ve tried to play it about half an hour each day, plugged in or not, except when we were out of town. No, I did not bring it with me. It’s been relaxing, even if my skills are lacking. A definite comfort and I’m having fun. I’ve stopped biting my nails, lost a few pounds and lowered my blood pressure. How much of this is related is hard to say, but it is happening.

The Back Room has become a retreat to escape from the activism of the day. The constant hammering of issue after issue on social media that must be read and consumed now or else you are not paying attention. I’m not sure if I’m out of the loop, or refuse to get motion sickness by witnessing it every hour.

I am paying attention, people are so stuck on their selfies that they fail to see that. Reposting link after link after link is time consuming and I barely have the energy to get out of bed these days.

Picked up a multi-effects pedal that is fascinating to use, but probably a bit out of my depth right now. A friend said to, “play with my hands, not my feet,” and that’s a fair point. Do need a new strap though. The one I have is for an acoustic and I worry about slippage.

My wife said that she hopes I get out of the guitar what she’s been getting out of yoga. She also has a point, and so far she is correct. Although the guitar was more expensive than a yoga mat.

Another friend said I had to put me playing Talk About the Passion by REM on video in two months or he’d send me a wall hook for the guitar. I did respond, a month early. You can watch it here.

I’m very self conscious about my lack of ability, so I have no idea how long the link will be active. But yes, I’m happy as Hell with the investment as I work on proficiency on the instrument. I’m not hiding, but that’s where I’ll be for awhile.

The road less bitter

The mood I've been in recently has been less that cheerful. There's a lot of stress. I do know there is a light at the end of the tunnel but it may burn out when I'm in the middle of it.

Who can say?

So I've been vaguebooking and saying pithy things, then I paraphrased the title of a book my wife told my mister misery guts about, which I then posted to Facebook - then a friend made into a meme.



So thank you Jeanetta.

The key is hope

It's been a week of near total anxiety, panic attacks and general stress. Been worried a lot about doing the right thing, making sure people are looked after, making sure myself and son are looked after. Closer to being on the same page with someone that took a lot of that fear away. Add a couple of glasses of red wine and a Mets win in which they scored a 12 run third inning and yes, I felt better.

Next week should solve and create a few more issues, but situations will be closer to working out.

It's a process, there are steps. Forms sometimes get filled out wrong, a reminder of a scene from seven years ago when I ticked the wrong box. In the end though, it turned out ok. We're all here, intact, and will be for the time being.

Summertime and the weather is queasy

Spring has arrived in Central Ohio. The leaves are forming, the grass is growing, the back gate has finally been reinstalled. Had to inform the lawn crew to not bulldoze their way through there because I was the one that did the work and my company may be called Shoddy.

It's getting warm out, and some people hate the warm weather and are going to be sad because we did not get shit for snow this winter. At least there was only one snow day. Tested the a/c in the car and the house. Both functioned after their time off.

It's the time of year when you send your kid to school in a black hoodie and he comes home with just a blue fleece jacket in his bag.

It's the time of year you should have already had a commitment for a summer caregiver for your son but that has not happened yet. Our previous one priced herself out of our budgets and we have not had any luck finding another. Spoke to one earlier, she was a great lead but we could not mesh on schedules. There is a nuclear option his Mother has come up with, but it puts it all on her, and that's not fair. But you have to do what you have to do.

For future reference, Susan Senator has written a great book about forming a plan for your soon to be adult with autism. Really, it's a great read with blueprints and strategies. They're not going to be easy, but she explains it all very straight forward.

In other news I've made an appointment for a test drive on a new car on Saturday. Not buying, but research with the possible future intent to buy continues.

Two hours later, four new tires

When you own a 21 year old car that is your daily driver, you rely a lot on faith. A belief that the car is going to start every morning (it has) that it will get you from point A to point B without breaking down (it has) and not being in the shop with any great frequency.

For the most part, that has been in the case. My Subaru has been a very good car during the three years I have owned it. The repairs, while on the pricey side, have been necessary and not the result of a bad purchasing decision.

But how much more cash and time in the shop do you want to put into a 21 year old car? Recently, the steering has been getting more and more unstable. This was not an unknown situation. My mechanic have mentioned that there was a lot of play in the steering wheel, and these parts do not get better. Do I really want to sink another couple of thousand into this car for a steering column, shocks and struts.

For the past couple of weeks, I have been doing research. Looking into local car dealerships, what they had used in stock for what I was willing to pay, and their reputation for being decent business people.

I made an appointment earlier this week for this morning. There were a couple of cars they had that I was interested in.

Yesterday we got about four inches of snow, and the roads were crap. Was wondering what I'd wake up to this morning and whether or not I'd be able to test drive any cars. The roads were not too bad, so I gathered up my title, brought the checkbook and headed to Hugh White Honda.

The salesman was not pushy, apologized for the weather, like it was his fault, and we walked down a row of cars on a chilly morning. He mentioned a couple of five speeds, but I have not driven a stick in over twenty years, and was not about to relearn on slushy roads. There was one car in particular I wanted to test drive, he got it scraped off while I took a look in the interior and trunk.



Sent this picture of to my wife and gave the description. She did not disapprove.

Took it on the road and it felt good. Needed to adjust the seat better, but it rides well. Since the dealership is right by 270 I gave it a good spin on the highway and it continued to drive well. Everything seems to function as it should, not sure about the air conditioning though. You worry about different noises when you have an unfamiliar engine in front of you, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

When I got back we discussed terms. My wife and I previously talked what we were willing to pay and how to finance the purchase, but I called her after the dealership's offer, which we felt was reasonable so I made the purchase.



A 2005 Hyundai Elantra that went to 118,000 miles as I was on the highway. My parents own a Sonata that I have driven and really liked. I've also rented a couple of Hyundais and felt comfortable with them. This morning, no cash was spent in exchange for three years of payments plus the Subaru as trade. There's a minor oversight that I and the salesman made that he is going to make good on next week. So I'm happy with this car and hope I made a purchase of a car that's going to be low cost to maintain for the next three years, at least. It's going to be weird not having a station wagon for the first time in five years, but I'm sure I can make the adjustment.

40 years early, he gets one done

My son underwent an endoscopy of his GI tract today to determine if there was anything physically wrong that may be preventing him from wanting to eat. He and I went to the hospital about seven this morning. Got him set up in his hospital gown. Signed the consent form and got the details from his doctor and the anesthesiologist. He hid under the blanket to keep warm while we cuddled on the gurney. Then he was taken to the procedure room, and I was asked to be in there when they put him under.

Comforting your son while he's squirming and crying as he breathes in knockout gas is not recommended. His mother saw it when he had dental surgery a few years ago and was traumatized by the fear in his eyes and now I understand that completely. Not something I ever wish to witness again.

I left the room and was told to wait in the reception area. I was given a pager, like in a restaurant, that would beep and vibrate when my son was, um, done. After about 25 minutes of waiting, it went off and I was taken to a consulting room.

One chair on one side of a small, curtained room. Three chairs on the other. I did not want to think about the other two chairs and thankfully it was just his doctor who came in to tell me he was fine and that the scope showed nothing wrong but the biopsy results would take a few days. He seemed confident there was nothing physically amiss. We talked of his toileting issues and what could be done about them. So much work ahead.

I emailed his mother and she quickly replied back that she was in the hospital, waiting to be brought in to see him. I went to the nurse's station and asked where she was. Had to get one of the nurses to bring her in.

We were taken to recovery where he was groggy and whiny, nothing unexpected. After a few minutes I gave him his iPad and he went under the covers and blasted Dora the Explorer. A few minutes later I took the iPad from him so we could get him dressed and out of there which caused him to have a bit of a meltdown, which also showed us that he was good to go.

I was not sure if his mother would show up or not so I was prepared to take the day off work. I was surprised and grateful to know she planned on watching him the rest of the day. She let me know a couple of hours later that he was back to normal and I have heard nothing to tell me otherwise.

Ok, I only worked half a day, and to destress I went to Pistachia Vera for breakfast.

A struggle to remain neutral

I've found myself, once again, in a battle with a local children's hospital over medical bills. Last year it took about nine months to resolve my son's dental bill and I'm afraid the hospital is still not done.

Was told that some of the discrepancies come from some bills from last year. I have the paperwork, and the payments that went sent, checks which were cashed.

It is very hard for me to deal with a hospital with a sub-standard billing system, a phone tree that is impossible to get through in a reasonable amount of time, robo calls, representatives who give you the wrong number to call. Sure, they may have a nice shiny new building to crow about, but even on the best days their payment model is shoddy.

Now I will receive a large packet depicting my son's account with them in the mail and I get to spend time figuring out which bills I paid, or even over paid, if I paid them at all, or if I was even billed for services received.

Good times.

At least it's not Branson

I'd be a lot more enthusiastic about things if I had not sank a lot of money into the car a couple of days ago. I knew the rotors were pitted, braking was similar to bronco busting, but when there was a lot of loud metal on metal banging during acceleration I knew I'd have to give in and take the car to the shop.

So I got to sit around the house and stress, do some editing, stress some more then watch Celtic win their soccer match to get into the Champions League and stress. The call from the mechanic came in, turns out the brake pads were not clipped on right by the people who put them on after I got the car last December, and they froze up the calipers. Scorecard was new brake pads, new rotors and calipers. A sickening total.

This was Wednesday, the same night as the Writers' Block Grand Slam in which the winner would go to the Individual World Poetry Slam. Five poets, including myself, were competing.

I was determined to compete and have fun, with no other expectations. Had my poems pretty much set. A one minute and two minute poem and two three minute poems of which I had to choose one.

Drew the five slot, which meant I went last in the round. That strategy did not matter much, not with only five poets reading.

Read a new poem that I finished the night before, To My Son on his 10th Birthday. You never know what is going to happen when you debut a work, especially during a major slam. After reading it, I got to my seat and my wife was bawling. Guess I struck a nerve in a few other people too as it was the highest scoring poem in the round. This meant I was to read first in round two.

There was no time to settle down, and I had another new poem, this one called Nine Bullets at Qimchok, about the taliban atrocities in Afghanistan. Got the judges verdict, then Gina read her poem and sailed past me in the scoring.

Going into round three, the one minute round Gina was in first, I was in second, Vernell third, Alexis then Aaron.

Gina did her thing then I came up and did, well, An Obscene Phone Call from Mr. Potato Head which brought the house down. I was in the lead and Vernell needed a near perfect score to catch me. That did not happen.

So I won the slam and a trip to the IWPS finals in Fayetteville, Arkansas in October. It was a great night of poetry and all five of us were outstanding. I've accepted the trip. Never been to Arkansas, deep in the Ozarks. My room is booked, the plane reservation will be made next week. I am thrilled, but the money issue and timing was not the best.

That said, I'm looking forward to representing Writers' Block Poetry. Now I have to figure out what to read there. Tough task. I hear there are only going to be 72 poets in the competition this year, so I'm guaranteed a better finish than my 90th in Berkeley three years ago. Also, like 2009, Ethan Rivera will be representing Writing Wrongs Poetry.



Columbus is coming Fayetteville, be ready!

Oh, and next week I get The Uni!