Introducing....

HENRY! Is he really cute, or what?

'Rebranding' Remmy

It's been 48 hours now since I brought the dog home. I worked again today but he's already walked another mile, at least I did, today. I walk the sidewalk, he zigs-and-zags through people's yards; does circles around me. Sometimes he does a small circle in front of me. It's almost like he just wants to be sure I'm still there with him as he bounds around and seems to have a lot of fun. I walk one mile; he probably runs five. He's been sleeping well. He's been good down here in the basement when I am at work, too. So far no destruction, knock-on-wood. wink

I just took a break before some more storms roll through to take him for another mile walk. So far everyone we meet thinks he's really cool and VERY cute. There's just something about the puppy-innocence of that flat and wrinkled face. It's supposed to be sunny here tomorrow. I plan on taking the first 'official' pictures of him in the sun; somewhere 'cool.'

Tomorrow I will take him over to meet my mom, too. I know she is going to love him. I know it will be good for her given the recent passing of her own fawn pug. She loved my little Op, too. She will take one look at his face and think of her. He looks just like her; one beautiful pug. I'm anxious to see her reaction.

Today I as I was driving around working I was thinking of his past life; which wasn't bad, but how I hope to make things better for him. I mentioned before that the couple I adopted him from had an older English Bulldog. I imagine there may have been some 'competition' for food. Here it's all for him! My neighborhood is more expansive; his walks I'm sure are longer. The front lawns are bigger; gives him a sense of 'running free,' a chance to just be a dog. These long walks I've been taking him on are designed to 'distract' him from the fact that he's not where 'home' used to be; teach him his new neighborhood; and let him know despite his long hours in the house without me, I guarantee time outside when he will be 'free.'

I think pug puppies have two things 'going on with them' as they mature. They are strong-willed, smart, and very curious. They have what I would call a 'curiosity quotient.' They want to see and know what's going on, ya know? They are also puppies like any other dog and have a lot of energy. They have a 'physical-activity' quotient, too. The long walks seem to satisfy both these needs. He really seems to love it; he's chomping on a rawhide treat now. I also thought about how he might be thinking he's gone to some 'pug resort.' There is always food in the bowl for him, fresh water...miles of 'open-space' to run, too. I'm glad he seems to be a pretty happy pup. He also might really be America's cutest dog. I am anxious to post some pictures of him.

As I have gotten to 'know' him these past two days I have mixed feelings about saying I am thinking of giving him a new name. Perhaps part of human psychology; renaming him might help me to feel like he's really 'mine.' One name is sticking in my mind. I 'floated' it past a couple of the neighbors who met him and asked. I'm still tossing the thought around. I might be 're-branding' Remmy.

He'll still be the same cool, adorable little dog.
He just might learn to be called something new.

Hope everyone's having a good weekend.
Take care, have fun.

'night

'Remmy' comes home

Early this past Spring I was driving through a neighborhood and spotted a guy playing with his black pug in the front yard. I promised Op when I said good-bye to her that every time I saw a pug I would stop to say hello as I knew there would be a 'piece' of her in each-and-every-one. I wrote about it in a previous blog posting. I included a couple pictures of the dog back in late March/early April. I had a nice time talking to the people about their dogs.

This past weekend was my once-a-month three day weekend. The price I pay for it is this coming weekend as I have to work Saturday; I'm off Sunday and then go back in Monday. I was off this past Monday. When I went in to work Tuesday morning there was note attached to my time-card. I was to call these people about their black pug, 'Remmington.'

I sensed something was a-miss with them; sensed they might need a good home for him. I left the office; stopped for my morning green tea and passed by their house on my way to my first morning job. I placed a work 'doortag' on their front door with my cell phone listed on the appropriate line. It was nine o'clock in the morning; I knew someone in the home worked shift work so I didn't want to wake them. They called me back about 11 AM.

Dan explained to me that there had been 'conflicts' between their older English Bulldog and the young pug. He and his girlfriend had talked about it and decided would be best if he went to a good home. They thought of me. I was flattered. He asked if I was interested in adopting the little guy; I said, 'Sign me up.'

I asked him for a couple days to 'pug-proof' my house. He laughed and said, 'Sure.' He knew exactly what I meant. They are smart and 'crafty' dogs. Somehow, I relate to them well. I told Dan during our initial conversation that I would call them back late Thursday morning to get back with them.

I did. When he answered I asked if they were sure they wanted to 'do this.'
He said they were. I said, 'Then I'm ready when you are.' Unfortunately, he thought I meant 'right now.' I had to tell him I was calling him while working. I told him I would be off at 5 PM. He said they would be there.

I had a nice visit with them. I told them stories from having Oprah; they had stories from having both the dogs, too. I promised them he would have a happy life with me. They reassured me that they knew I would provide him not only good care but a nice life, too. Their yard was small. I have a large fenced-in portion of my property. LOTS of room for a pug puppy to run. Op loved it. As Op got older I could trust her to go all the way out to the woods with no physical boundaries. The only time Op was ever tethered on a leash was on walks in the neighborhood; in case any other dogs might be walking, too.

They reassured me they knew they were doing the right thing for the dog.
They said their good-byes and I brought Remmy home.

He has now been here 24 hours. In that time he has walked over a mile-and-a-half. I felt bad that he was here all day by himself as I worked. I took him for a long walk in between the current storms. He loved it.

He really is the cutest, smartest, sweetest nine-month-or-so old pug pup. He walks so good on the leash; he has 16 feet of line that's retractable. He knows the click-of-the-button when I lock it; he stops and follows me. His favorite place to be seems to be my lap. He looks up at me with that wrinkled face and those big brown eyes and it's very hard to say, 'no.'

After tonight's mile-long walk in between the storms he got a big drink of water, ate some of his food and then tried desperately to secure his throne-of-comfort, my lap. I am sorry to say the back of his coat was wet from the drizzle/light rain that fell on him during our almost twenty minute walk. I looked into those eyes and said, 'I'm sorry, you're wet.'

So started a ten minute 'battle-of-wills;' I prevailed. I practice 'gentle persuasion' and it seems to work. Whew! He is smart enough he really seems to understand.

Bless his heart, he is now sleeping next to my chair as I type this.
He is drying off slowly in this stormy HUMID air.
Cool fresh breezes can't get here soon enough for me.

It has been good for me to have him here. I look at that face and smile.
He has been so well-behaved; I am very impressed.

I can't wait to take him to the island beach where he can run freely.
Have thoughts of getting him to Central Park, too. wink

I feared I would have to 'mold' him into being a cool dog.
It seems like the people I adopted him from already did.
He's been great. It's good to have him here.

Hope all's well with everyone.

Special wishes to VERY special people that are heading to the 'Old World' tonight for an awesome vacation. Have a safe trip and HAVE FUN!

'night

For those of us stranded at home; have a good weekend.

'I Dream of Jeanie'

I really was a pretty lucky kid.

I was born into a migratory American family in Boise, Idaho. I was two weeks 'early;' a real easy delivery in the Emergency Room at the hospital as mom was rushed there from shopping in the city that day.

We lived in a small place some 60-or-so miles away from Boise called, 'Mountain Home.' To the best of my knowledge there is still an active Air Force Base there. It's wild for me to think that when we lived there my dad's job was flying B-52 bombers armed with nuclear weapons to protect us from the threat of communism.

We moved from Idaho to Seattle when I was just six-months old. My dad was attending the University of Washington for his MBA; at the same time he was on active duty with the Air Force. We lived in the Seattle area for two years; I'm sorry to say, I have no memory of this time. Mom always told me it was nice place to live; too bad the sun only came out in August.

We moved from Seattle the WHOLE WAY across the country to Cocoa Beach, Florida. My dad was an electrical engineer by his college degrees; by then an experienced pilot, too. His service was needed to fly 'electronically-equipped tracking flights' for the early Space Program. We lived just across A1A from the beach for five years; seven miles south of Cape Canaveral at the narrowest point of the barrier island. We saw 'Mercury,' 'Gemini,' and early launches of 'Apollo.'

As dad flew tracking flights, we knew when all the launches were scheduled from 'the Cape.' My earliest childhood memories are of the rocket launches we saw from our backyard or the nearby beach. During those early 'discovery' years before and into preschool I was learning words and terms like; 'gantry,' 'telemetry,' and 'down-range.'

No doubt, an example of the 'kismet' I describe in the entry below.

It's fun for me to watch 'I Dream of Jeanie' re-runs as our family lived there during that time. It 'takes-me-back' to childhood memories I am really lucky to have. It is this rich personal back-round that separates me culturally from the locals.

I grew up in a world that was 'limit-less.' My father traveled all around the world on his job; protected us with nuclear weapons in the 'belly' of his bomber, then helped us explore beyond our world, too. He went on to do 'other things;' but my early childhood experience in Florida helped shape my perception of the 'world.' My horizons were never bound.

Last evening I went for a quick drive into the country; minutes from my house. I stopped at local 'self-service' produce stand. The stand is along a local two-lane highway. The stand operates on the 'honor-system;' the prices are listed, there is a 'slotted lock-box' for the money. I bought a small bushel of Yukon Gold potatoes; a small basket of tomatoes; two bell peppers and six ears of fresh corn for less than $5. There can be no doubt the items are 'fresh.' One of the perks, I suppose, of living on the suburban fringe of this micropolitan area. 'They' really do know how to grow sweet corn here; some REALLY good tomatoes, too. I've been making the 5-minute drive 'out-there' every Saturday for the past few weeks. Their garden-fresh stuff is really good.

Agricultural products are produced here in abundance. Agricultural is one of the three pillars of the historically-sturdy local economy. The other two are tourism and industry. Interestingly during these times there is another surprising component which is real estate. Property values here continue to appreciate; despite the over-all national economy. I suppose as a result of our close location to the BosWash corridor of I-95; the small-town 'feel,' slower-pace, and other 'quality-of-life' issues; it hasn't been a 'bad' place to be.

Over the years, I have managed to eke out a decent living here.

When times are bad other places; they always seem to be 'less bad' here.
We still have 'new' residential construction going on here. I suppose a 'benefit' of the local culture's conservatism; we don't seem to have 'bubbles;' hence, less of a 'crash.' Things are always pretty steady here; even now. I've joked that it's due to the fact the local Mennonites would NEVER lend money they weren't sure they would get back; with their interest.

Now is the time that is a very good thing.

I hope all's well with everyone.
More later.

'night

Chris

November 07 The 'Lost' Pics

The first weekend of November back in '07 saw me headed back to Manhattan to get-together with friend, Jeff. He was flying in from Michigan. This was before Steve and Nancy moved to Manhattan; so we had a room at the hotel at 75th and Broadway on the Upper West Side. Jeff is friends with the manager of the hotel; very cool guy named Tom.

They met many years ago at a wedding in Marquette, MI on the Upper Peninsula. Tom is 'good' to us at the hotel; we are noted on their register as 'VIP's.' It's always nice to stay there; we are treated very well. It's always good to see Tom and his wife, Janelle, too. We often have dinner with them during our stays.

This particular trip saw me taking a half-vacation day from work and jumping on Amtrak here; early on that Friday afternoon. I wanted to get through Penn Station before the worst of the Friday rush-hour 'crush-of-humanity-in-transit.' I got to the hotel a couple hours before Jeff did. I emerged from the subway at 72nd Street and Broadway about 4:20 PM; Jeff's flight was due in around 6PM.

I checked in and went up to the room and it was spectacular. All the 'rooms' there are suites. A living room with small table/chairs...kitchenette and a separate bedroom. The sofa in the living room is a pull-out; that's where I sleep. There was no doubt that Tom had given us the best possible suite available. We were on the 24th floor with a view to the east looking past the Dakota Towers over Central Park to the East Side. We had stayed in the hotel many times before; this was the highest with that eastern, largely unobstructed, view. It was very nice suite. The picture above was taken during the daylight just after noon the following day. On the left side of the picture you can see the American Museum of Natural History; on the right are the towers of The Dakota on Central Park West. If you click-to-enlarge; the Park is clearly visible.

I couldn't wait for Jeff to get there so he could check-it-out. He called when he was in the cab headed in from Laguardia. I told him how cool the view was; told him I would come down in the elevator and greet him on the street. I was there when his cab pulled up; welcomed him and helped him with his stuff. I said, 'Wait until you see the view from the room, it's great.'

We went up in the elevator, went into the suite. I had pulled the curtains shut. It was about 7 PM; at that time in November the sun had already gone down. Jeff walked into the room; set his things down and walked over to the window. He grabbed the 'pull-arms' and opened the curtains to the spectacular city vista.

Within a minute or so; as we 'oooohed-and-aaahhhed,' we saw the first burst of light and heard a low rolling 'thunder.' Then there was another....and another. We were seeing fireworks over Central Park from a 24th-floor vantage point! How cool is that? We had no idea whatsoever any such display was planned; what a great surprise! It was one of those life-moments that seemed like it was 'meant-to-be.'

I immediately grabbed my camera and snapped as many pictures as I could. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime events; kind of like having a tornado go through your backyard....wink. I seem to have some strange 'kismet' that puts me in places at the 'right' or 'wrong' time. Hence, I now always have my camera close-by. The pictures you see below are pictures of that fireworks display over the heart of the city.

I'll never forget; the timing was incredible. It was a spiritual moment. I feared for some time that the pictures had been lost in the transition to my new camera and storage media. I was searching for a completely unrelated picture the other night and stumbled onto where these were stored. They were stored on a flash-drive that was a gift from a friend; very cool gift, indeed. It was a nice 'find;' I knew I would not 'toss' them. I'm glad I was able to find them and share.

It was an incredible sight.
Right place, right time, right company.

When the fireworks were over we turned on the TV to try to find out, why?

We quickly learned from NY1. I'll explain tomorrow...wink.

Have a good night.

Me

Didn't Ask/Didn't Tell

August in Amishland is often brutal. The humidity combined with the heat becomes intense; outdoors becomes a sauna. August is my least favorite month. It becomes very easy to long for the cool northwest winds from Canada that clear things out in September. Today was the most brutal day so far this summer. I can only hope it is the last.

My work van has air-conditioning; I don't use it. After many years on the job my theory is that getting conditioned to the climate is better than trying to deny it. It was tough to keep from turning it on today; but I didn't. I'm sorry to say, one consequence of the weather conditions is my usual high 'patience level' with the public sinks.

My work route is often dictated by time restrictions instead of location. The office offers time 'windows.' The system allows for the following time windows...9-10, 9-1, 10-2, 1-3, and 1-5 for my 'first' shift. The 1-3's are the toughest as I am bound by our union contract to take my lunch no later than 2:30. Hence, a 1-3 is really a 1-2:30. A narrow time window when you never know what to expect, ya know?

On my second job this morning it was funny when the gentleman asked me why they only give you those windows? I told him the office can't take the time to know what the 'situation' is at any location; I never know what I might run into. Soon after I told him that I discovered the 'invisible' home wiring the previous owner had done and had to 'regroup' more than once to get 'things' where they needed to be.This new customer was an electrician; a web host, too. I told him at one point, 'This situation is the perfect answer to your question about the time windows. I can't possibly anticipate what I am going to find to make it all work.' He laughed and understood.

I was at his house for almost two hours; sweating profusely. He never offered me something to drink. My guess? Born-and-raised in Lancaster County. There is no sense of 'hospitality' here among the locals. If I had someone working at my house and they were dripping wet with sweat; I would offer something to drink. Here, the thought would never occur to them. It really is kind of sad.

His job was a 10-2. I pulled in at 10:05; I left at 11:45. I drove to a nearby convenience store to grab an ice cold flavored tea and take my morning 15 minute break. My next 'people job' was scheduled from 1-3. The work-order listed a phone number that was to be called 15 minutes before my arrival.

My break was over at 12:09; it's reported back to the office through my phone. I called the number listed for my 1-3 to see if they were home early; if it would be more convenient for me to come over now so they didn't have to wait. Instead of the traditional 'ring' one hears on the phone the woman subscribed to a phone service that plays music as you wait for an answer. The song was Pink Floyd's, 'Wish You Were Here.' I had seen the band play that tune TWICE in concert. That's a whole other 70's story, I will save that story for later. I like the song very much.

I guess I liked it too much. After the song played I made a BIG mistake. I left a message for the woman 'outside' of the prescribed time window. Her first name was Amanda. I said, 'Hi Amanda, my name is Chris. I am calling from *********. I have an order to come upgrade your service from 1-3. I thought I would call to see if you were available now. I really like your 'Wish You Were Here,' and I will call you back later.'

I then went up the same street to see if my 1-5 was home. They were. The woman greeted me warmly at the door. I was connecting internet service in her son's room in the basement; she left me alone as I did what was an easy job. I chatted with her and her family briefly as she signed the contract and I headed for the door. I had received an e-mail from the office 'Severe Thunderstorm Warning.' The skies were darkening quickly as I left that job.

As I headed for the door my work phone began ringing. I think it's rude to speak in a customer's presence so I waited to answer until I passed through the front door. When I went to answer; the call was gone. In a blink it began ringing again. The time was 1:07. The glare on the phone kept me from seeing the number; I assumed it to be the office so I immediately answered.

It was not the office; it was Amanda. I said, 'Hello.' There was no greeting; she immediately 'went off' on me. 'You were supposed to be here at 1 o'clock, you were here EARLY, ARE YOU COMING BACK HERE?' I was like, 'whoa!'

I said, 'I was NOT there; I called you early as a courtesy. I didn't want you to be waiting; if you were.' I continued, in response to part of her tirade, that my comment about 'wish you were here' was a reference to the tune SHE SELECTED TO PLAY; instead of the classic 'phone ring.'

She sternly asked, 'Well, are you coming back?'

I knew one thing from the tone of her side of our phone conversation. There could be no doubt; she was born/raised in Lancaster County. No doubt in my mind; none, whatsoever.

I said, 'Ma'am, I am two minutes up the street; I went and did another job as you were unavailable. I will be there momentarily.' I pulled into the parking lot in front of her subsidized apartment at 1:11. She had the door opened when I got there. The storm was 'imminent.' I knew I had to scramble to do-what-I-had-to-do outside before clouds emptied. I almost made it. I was soaking wet from sweat and rain when I finally made it to her door. Ugh.

After so many years on the job I would like to think I am really 'good' with people. This situation was going to be a tough one. I had a 'demanding' customer with attitude; our phone conversation had given me a negative one, too. One of those times I have to 'rise-to-the-occasion;' do what I have to do. Our 'personal thaw' happened slowly.

It helped that she acknowledged a 'misunderstanding.' I resisted every temptation to point out I was only 11 minutes 'late.' I did tell her I was trying to extend a 'courtesy' with my phone call as I do not want people waiting for me. I also explained my 'mistake' at leaving the message; I should have just hung up after enjoying the music. I should have waited until I was done with the 'available' afternoon job and called her back. Ironically, that would have been about the time she called me and went on her tirade. As I tried to 'unruffle her feathers;' I 'thanked' her. She asked, 'for what?' I said, 'I keep a blog to let my friends know what's going on with me. No doubt, I will have something to write about tonight!'

I knew she had internet service. She had it with us.
She never asked where the blog was, or the title.
I didn't tell, either.
Some times some things are best left 'unsaid,' ya know?

She's lucky some hours have gone by since our encounter.
I really have been 'charitable' with my comments.

If I were an evil Cable Guy, I would have taken my lunch, done a couple disconnects, and arrived at her front door at 2:55. I didn't. I did the right thing and tried to satisfy her cable needs at her earliest convenience. A sure sign of one thing. I'm NOT 'from' around here.

Hope all's well with everyone.
Have a good weekend, too.

'night

Neighbors-from-Hell

I live in a large development of nearly identical homes. All of the homes are duplexes; connected to one-another on one side. My particular unit lies on the outside of a curve in the road. My lot is pie-shaped. I have less than 50 feet of street frontage; my back property line measures over 300 feet. The back third of my property is wooded.

For the first few years I lived here it was really nice. I was fortunate to have a quiet couple in the unit I was attached to; a nice single woman lived next door on the other side. I had a good relationship with her; we'd talk often, I liked her a lot. She was a teacher who had taken an administrative position with her district. She then put the house up for sale and moved on. I hated to see her go and that's when things changed.

Much to my chagrin, the 'neighbors-from-hell' moved in. I am not sure exactly how many kids they have but I know they have too many for that small house. I have never been introduced to any of them; yet I know many of their names. There's Bobby, Bradley, Cassandra...aka 'Cassy,' and more. I am familiar with these names as they are screamed routinely from the front yard to the back. I refer to them collectively as 'the LOUD family.' Given the size of the brood, whenever the weather is nice they are all outside. My days of enjoying the songbirds in the woods had evaporated overnight. I knew early-on that I wanted no contact with these people. I joked with my friends that it was clear to me their previous home had wheels on it. Even funnier, as I learned later, my suspicions were correct. They had, indeed, moved here from a trailer park.

I have had three unfortunate contacts with these people.

When they first moved in they had older kids living with them as well as the toddlers. They home-schooled these children; a frightening thought, for sure. It became quickly apparent there wasn't a whole lot of 'schooling' going on. The kids were most often playing outside. Their front yard has no trees; mine has two large trees. Where did the kids like to play? In front of my house in the shade. I would come home from work and find them congregated at the end of my driveway. They were leaning against my mailbox to the point that it fell down. I would find snack wrappers and soda containers littering my yard. Funny how when I would confront them about it I was told the offending youth had gone home.

I was getting real fed up with it. One day I decided to do something about it. I pulled in the driveway after they scattered. I parked and removed a beach chair from the rear of my truck. I planted the chair at the end of the driveway and began talking on the phone. I had hoped they would move along as they wouldn't want to hang out with me there. ' N-f-H Dad' came out and saw what was going on. Instead of encouraging the kids to play in front of their house; where they belonged, he surveyed the situation; looked at them and said, 'Don't let him intimidate you by sitting there like that. You can do anything you want to as long as you stay on the sidewalk.' The kids then began to taunt me as I thought what a *******! I was pissed.

I considered my options and tried to think of something the kids would NOT like. The first choice was classical music. I pulled my small boom-box from the rear of my truck and tuned it to the local NPR station. That seemed to work; the crowd dispersed. I left it on and out at the end of the driveway and went into the house. I was so angry I went down in my basement wondering what kind of music I thought 'dad' would dislike. That was easy. Rap music. I put one of my stereo speakers out on my patio and tuned my digital cable box to the un-interrupted rap station. Now I had rap playing in the backyard and classical out front. Some time later there was a knock on my door. They had called the police.

It was about 7PM when I greeted the two officers at my door. The policewoman did all of the talking. She asked, 'Is that your music I hear playing?' I said, 'Yes.' She said, 'We were called by your next door neighbors in response to a noise complaint; could you please turn it down?' I said, 'Yes.' I looked at her and said, 'Please tell them this used to be a nice place to live until they moved in. They show a complete disregard for their neighbors.' She told me she would. She then left to go talk to them. The policeman went back to his cruiser. He remembered me from helping me when my truck blew up at busy intersection one day. He told me outside the presence of his partner that they really couldn't force me to turn the volume down until 11 PM. I still complied with the request.

The 'chutzpah' of the 'LOUD family' to call the police with a complaint against me for noise. Unbelievable. Obviously, they were born-and-raised in Lancaster County. Ugh.

Before I got the car I have now, I was driving an Isuzu Amigo. The vehicle had a soft-top over the back half. Over the many years I had it the top had stretched to the point it wouldn't clip across the back; there were gaps. The neighbors-from-hell not only introduced noise into the neighborhood; they introduced feral cats, too. One of their cats figured out how to slip between the gaps in my truck-roof and would often be sleeping in my truck. The first few times it scared the crap out of me as I would turn the key, start the engine and hear it scurrying to jump out before I pulled away. The fear then turned to frustration; just another aspect of the detriment these people have caused to the neighborhood.

One morning as I got in my truck the cat again scurried away. Ugh. I set about my half-hour morning commute. About half-way into the trip I heard a muted noise coming from the back of the truck. I turned down the radio and listened. Again, I heard the same muted noise. I got to work and punched in. I returned to my truck. I pulled open the back of the roof and inspected the bed of the truck. My worst fears had been realized. The cat had kittens in the bed of my truck.

I went in to my boss and apprised him of the situation. He said, 'Well, the humane thing to do is get the kittens back to the mother.' I agreed. I had to take a half-vacation day to accommodate the needs of the newborn kittens. I drove home to confront the neighbor with the situation.

I pulled into my driveway and immediately went over. I asked him if he had a gray cat that runs through the neighborhood. He said they did. I told him his cat had kittens in the back of my truck. He laughed and took the kittens. I told him I wasn't happy as they cost me a half-vacation day. I said, 'I almost feel like I should be compensated somehow.' Three of his younger children were present when he snapped, 'I'm not giving you a f*cking thing for the kittens.' Again, I knew these were people I wanted nothing to do with.

In the intervening years I have done my best to ignore them. I have allowed the 'border area' of my side yard to 'grow-up' as any barrier to their inconsideration is a good thing to me. I have joked with friends that now during the summer I don't have to see them; too bad I can still hear them. The noise was the source of today's confrontation.

Last night was a nice night here in the northeast; a good 'sleeping night' for this time of summer. No need for the air-conditioning; an open window would do just fine. At 7:03 this morning I awoke to the sound of a weed-whacker. My property line with the neighbors-from-hell in front of the house is less than 50 feet from my bedroom window. He was working right there! At 7:05 I slammed the window shut. I'm sorry to say; he didn't stop, nor was the noise abated inside my bedroom. At 7:13 I got out of bed. I slipped on some shorts. At 7:15 I confronted him through the brush of my side yard. I waited until he stopped for a moment and said, 'Do you really think it's appropriate to be doing that at 7 in the morning?' He said, 'I gotta get it done.' I asked, 'Do you know what the noise ordinance says?' He replied, 'no.' I said, 'It says, '8 AM....Asshole.'' I turned and walked back into the house; slammed the door behind me. The noise stopped but the adrenaline had kicked in. There was no way I was going back to bed. I really did want to sleep in.

It's frustrating to live next door to the Neighbors-from-Hell.
I hope everyone else's neighbors are more considerate than mine.
It really does suck living next-door to them.
Ugh.

Classic Amishland

I realized when I scrolled through the recent pictures for the young Mennonite girls in the story I detail below that I have few pictures from right here in Amishland. My camera went with me to work today. I snapped some pictures as seen below.

My first job this morning was for a nice widower that lived in a cool small house with a spectacular view of 'classic Amishland.' As I went about correcting his problem and up-grading him to HD service on his 52-inch flatscreen; I asked him if I could take some pictures of his classic view. He smiled and said, 'You're the third guy that came over here to service something that asked me that.' He happily obliged.

He asked if my camera had a zoom as I snapped the first few shots. I said, 'yes.'
He pointed and said, 'The one farmer down there has a sense-of-humor; you see the 'smiling barn?'' I zoomed in that area, sure enough! Click to enlarge the fourth picture of the country-side; you will see it, too.

Later in the day I had a 'trouble-ticket' scheduled between 1-3PM. It was in a unique community. The strict local zoning laws were relaxed to allow for a 'mixed-use' community. It is fashioned to be a 'Bavarian' village. The structures have commercial space on the first floors; residential space above. The shops are an eclectic mix. The concept is cool; as you can see.

The pedestrian streets were quiet as it was not a Sunday. The clock-tower visible through the tower-gate arch is at the entryway of a huge antique market. For some reason, the market is only open on Sunday. The antique market is connected to a nationally-renowned micro-brewery. The micro-brewery is connected to a good restaurant. I'm sure it gets a fair amount of traffic on the weekends. The planned community is still in development. It is probably one of those local 'gems' most tourists never see.

Cross Cultural Encounters

This morning began just like every other morning this week. The air was thick. The sky was hazy, almost cloudy. The slowly emerging sun only served to 'brew the stew.' Today was one of those days when the most uncomfortable part of the day comes around 10 AM as the combination of heat and humidity has the air almost saturated. My least favorite time of the year here. It can be brutal.

My first job this morning was scheduled between 9AM and 1PM. I pulled into the driveway after making a phone call to them at 8:55 AM. I was there to connect them to the internet. Today's route saw me working in my least favorite area to work of those served by our office. In today's area there is still a lot of the 'PA Dutch' influence.

The people in this area do not want to be bothered on any level other then you doing your job. There is no warmth, no conversation; just get in, get it done and tell me what you need to. This goes against my natural-grain as I try to be warm and converse with the people so they are comfortable with me being in their homes. I could tell before I arrived at their home this morning that these were people whose roots were very deep in Lancaster County. Not only was the name on the account a classic local name but the phone call I was required to make before my arrival was to the husband. After talking to me he then called his wife at the house to tell her I was on my way. Given this fore-knowledge my personal expectation of the job were very low.

I parked in the driveway near the side door of the house. The woman was on the porch shaking out a floor mop; two young girls played outside nearby. She said good morning to me as I called the office to take care of administrative things I needed to do for the job. After my call I went to the door and didn't need to ring the bell as a large dog began barking. A woman's voice said, 'You can come in.' I smiled as the dog barked again. I noticed a large German Shepherd in a loft area above the kitchen. I smiled and said something 'reassuring' to the agitated dog. The woman said, 'Don't worry, we'll keep him upstairs. The computer is in there around the corner in the office. If there's anything you need to know, please ask.' I thought 'wow, right down to business.'

I surveyed the office area as she stood nearby. I asked, 'May I see in the basement.' She said, 'The door is right around the corner underneath the staircase.' It really was all I needed to know. I found it. I found the light switch, too. I went about the job quietly; as efficiently as I could. The wiring part took little more than half-an-hour. During that time the air became more intolerable. I walked right through the open kitchen every time I entered or left the home. By the end of that part of the job I was soaked with sweat.

I went into the house for the last time and connected the modem to the new line I had put in. I couldn't find the mouse on a very neatly organized wooden desktop. I noticed the one little girl was watching me nearby. I asked her if she knew where the mouse was. She smiled and told me she wasn't sure. Just about that time I found it 'tucked away' in an organizer compartment. I changed the settings on the PC and connected to the internet through their browser.

The little girl was right next to me and smiled when she saw the 'Google' page come up. I typed in 'Cable Guy in Amishland' and connected to this blog. I scrolled down to my picture and said, 'That's me.' I clicked on it to enlarge and she said, 'Wow, where were you?' So I told her where the picture was taken. I looked at her and asked, 'You want to see some pictures I took in NYC?' She smiled and said, 'Let me go get my sister....' She bolted into another room then returned with her sister.

I scrolled through the pages of the blog and showed them pictures from my travels. The Great Lakes, Niagara Falls, and NYC. The girls were 'ooohing and aahhhing' as I got to the re-posted picture above. It was then I realized that Grandma had come around the staircase to see what was going on. In a somewhat condescending voice she said, 'Well aren't you just proud of yourself?' I was taken aback; unsure how to respond. I thought what a strange thing to say. Heaven forbid I show the children there is a universe beyond their little world. Needless to say, it was soon after that I headed for the door.

It's encounters like that which remind me; I am from a different culture. Last week there was another.

I had been running 'trouble tickets;' correcting people's TV or internet problems. One of the tickets was a complaint about 'snowy lower channels' on their TV. I arrived at the house on-time and the woman allowed me inside. She directed me to the TV in the living room; said the trouble was only on that TV. I immediately noticed she had a DVR from us. I asked her to please remove the stuff from on top of the DVR after which I measured the signal on the line attached to the box. There was nothing. Nada. Zero. I pulled the DVR out away from the entertainment center and realized the DVR was not connected to the TV. I looked at the woman and asked why the DVR was not connected to the TV. She looked at me and said, 'They turned it off a few days ago.'

'They' was us; the Cable Co. I looked at her and asked, 'You mean we turned off the cable box because your account is delinquent?' She answered, 'Yes.' I began laughing; she asked, 'What's so funny?'

We don't turn off the boxes until the account is three months delinquent. I smiled and said, 'It's just kind of funny to me that you haven't paid your bill for months but still called to complain about the service.' I thought I wouldn't have the nerve to call and complain about service I hadn't paid for. I mentioned it back at the office later in the day and everyone there seemed to agree; takes a lot of 'nerve' to call and complain about something you haven't paid for.

Unbelievable.

I did have fun with a couple in a hilltop log home at the end-of-the-day yesterday. The home was reminiscent of a log home in the Tennessee hills. It was very nice. It was very nice to meet them, too, and I do hope I corrected their problems. I hope they liked some of the other tips I gave them, too. Very nice people, indeed.

Hope everyone's doing well.

Convert

Today was another beautiful day here in the northeast. Sunshine through some high clouds, low humidity. It was another 'treat' considering the often brutal Augusts here. I spoke with a friend on the phone yesterday; he was ready for a return trip to my river island beaches. I told him to be here at 10:30 and we would make it happen.

We got down to the riverside about 10:45 and the place was 'hopping.' There were a lot of people coming and going. The parking lot was near capacity. We managed to get into the water and away from the chaotic scene as quickly as we could.

We immediately headed for the island. I could see as we approached it that the Lotus were blooming in the water-lily field near the island's shore. I pointed the canoe in that direction. The picture above is of a Lotus in full bloom in the morning sunlight. I steered the canoe around the side of the lily bloom-field that would allow us to enjoy the fragrance in the almost-still air. It was nice start to a beautiful day.

We rounded the lily bloom-field and headed down-and-around the southern point of the island. After we round that point we are in a different world out on the water; away from 'the rest of the world.' The water was so nice and calm I decided to take him to a different beach than the one we had visited before. Again, he loved it.

He is going to college this fall. He is an ex-Marine and is certified now for his GI Bill. He told me his first priority when his benefits start is to buy a new computer for college. His second? He wants to buy a canoe or kayak so he can go out there on his own.

He told me when we came back in, 'ANY time you want to go out there, you let me know.' I think I have created a 'convert.' He loves it out there, too.

Nice Day

The weather was awesome today. The climate here in Amishland is often cruel in August. The humidity with the heat often reign; the 'feel' brutal. Today was perfect. It was brightly sunny, low humidity. So many of the pictures posted here are not local. I posted the one above to show; I really do live in Amishland. I snapped that Wednesday as I was working.

The weather seemed to affect people's attitudes, too. I had fun with most of 'my people' today. Other than one local woman who seemed 'distant;' all the people I encountered today were pretty cool.

Woman 1

I learned early on that she was not 'from' this area, either. She was well-traveled; not a part of the local culture, either. We had a nice conversation; we both had past childhood 'ties' to the Washington, DC area. My dad was at the Pentagon with the Air Force; her dad at the CIA out in Langley. It was very cool to talk to her.

Guy 1

My second personal contact today was with a gentleman who lived in an apartment. I was there to correct a problem he was having related to a system-change we had made at the office. It was a quick setting change on his TV sets. He spoke with mild accent. I asked soon after I entered the apartment, 'Sir, where are you from?' He answered, 'Russia.'

I smiled and looked at him and said...IN RUSSIAN...'I don't understand Russian.' He laughed loudly. Told me I was 'very good,' in Russian! It was all good. We had a nice talk, too.

Woman 2

I was dispatched to correct an internet trouble for a customer. Again, it was related to a systemic system change we had made. I needed to replace the cable modem. I knew that before I knocked on the door. A very nice woman opened the door and somehow through casual conversation we found that we knew many of the same people. She worked for a company that was a 'spin-off' of the company I worked for before I became the cable guy. That company went out-of-business; a lot of the people moved on to the 'spin-off.' I could have gone there, too.

It's rare on my job that I meet many people with whom I have any 'personal connections.' I work in an area 15 miles or so from where that previous job was. Most of the people, including myself, lived within a couple miles of the plant. This place is very 'parochial;' people don't stray very far from their homes. My second morning woman contact was with Valerie; it was very cool to talk to her and 'catch-up' on names I haven't spoken for quite a long time. The core company had been a cool place to work; we all 'played together well.' After that company dissolved; we all went our own ways. Valerie provided a thread of contact to many of the people I used to work with. Small world; here, indeed.

I was 'intrigued' by the prospect of being the cable guy; seemed like it would be a pretty cool job. Just for the record; I applied for and became 'the Cable Guy,' BEFORE the movie was released. I have been doing this now a long time. I now have enough seniority that I get 'first choice' of days off; the company maintains 'quotas' as we are a service company. I am sixth in seniority at our office; the quota now is seven.

There are 22 'Cable Guys' at our office. Some of them do only 'construction,' some of them only do 'line maintenance.' The rest of us have customer contact. We work different hours; work on-the-road, too. We often only see each other occasionally. The guy below me in seniority saw me the other day and we had a chance to talk. The 2010 vacation calendar is being 'passed-along' now. As we are both now among the 'privileged seven' he was happy to tell me after almost twenty years he could now get the Friday after Thanksgiving off. I was bit more fortunate; it only took me 18.

As I am talking about cool people I meet at work; I have to mention Sue.
I showed up at her door one morning this week to correct a problem and through our conversation learned that her daughter lives within a block from my friends Steve-and-Nancy in Manhattan. We both knew the same corner diner for Saturday breakfast nearby. We laughed about running into each other there. Was very fun to meet and talk to Sue, too. I posted the pictures below for her to share with her daughter; no doubt, it's her neighborhood.

Small world, indeed.

United States Postal Service

Those of you who may have read my past few written entries might have some sense of the daunting circumstances I face with my ailing mom. After trying to evaluate the situation in a rational way I had to do things in a certain order. Her financial situation was the most dire and obviously required immediate attention. The very first thing I did; after I spoke with the attorney and the social worker, was to go to the post office to stop the mail delivery to her house. I explained my circumstance to a clerk named Ryan; of course, I had my power-of-attorney paperwork in my hand.

I was redirecting both my mail and my mom's mail to post office box at the Main local post office. Ryan nicely told me what I needed to do and provided me the forms. I got back in line went back to him with the completed forms and a check for the rental of the PO box. I asked him about the POA. He said, 'It's good you have it; but you don't need to show it to me. That's for your protection if there was ever any allegation of fraud on your part.' I thought it 'odd' that he didn't want a copy of it but figured, 'he's the 'man;' ya know?

After changing her mailing address I had to set about closing her bank account and rolling it over into one that I could handle on her behalf. I did so; the bank would be mailing the new checks. I was off all week and kept an eye on things. I watched as three days after the mail was stopped they continued to deliver the mail. I asked the one carrier, 'What do I have to do to get you people to stop delivering the mail to that house?' He told me he was not the regular carrier; they had talked about it and both were confused. I told him it was to go to the PO Box; could he please pass it along.

The following day the mail was again delivered through the mail slot onto mom's foyer floor. I chased down the regular carrier and said, 'Ma'am, what do I have to do to stop delivery to this house?' She told me I had to go down to the office with my POA to stop it. I told her I had done that almost two weeks ago; she said, 'Sorry, you'll have to talk to the office.'

I immediately drove to the post office. I spoke with a different gentleman; again with my POA papers in my hand. I told him what was going on and asked him, 'What do I need to do to stop delivery to this house?' He walked away with my POA papers, came back some minutes later and told me it would now be okay.

I noticed Friday they had delivered the new checks, ugh. She had written two of them. I had no idea for how much; I knew mom didn't, either. I snagged them right away. I went to work yesterday so was unavailable at the time of mail delivery; I found her this morning going through more 'charitable' solicitations. I snagged them up right away, and hugged her as I left for work. I wanted to get to work early as I was going to be on the phone; with the postal service. I really don't have much of a temper; my blood was boiling.

I got to work with twenty minutes to devote to this until it was time to punch-in. It was no great surprise when the first number listed was a recording directing me to another. That number rang endlessly. I finally got a number where someone answered at the Main Post office on Harrisburg Pike here in Lancaster, PA. I asked immediately to speak to the Postmaster. She advised me he was on vacation. I curtly explained the situation to her; I had been to the office TWICE with my POA paperwork yet they continued to deliver mail to my mom's house. I told her I want to talk to someone NOW.

She directed me to some poor woman at the 'Carrier Annex.' It is much easier to 'go-off' on someone over the phone than in person. I 'went-off' on her. 'WHAT DO I NEED TO DO TO STOP MAIL DELIVERY TO MY MOM'S HOUSE?' She checked on her system and told me for some reason my mom's change of address had been 'deleted.' She told me that I was going to have to go to the post office; fill out a new change of address card and, once again, present my POA paperwork. I explained to her my exasperation as I had already been there and done that TWICE! She understood and apologized. She told me she would put the change of address cards in the PO Box I had rented weeks earlier; to fill them out return them to her and it would be taken care of.

On my way over to mom's tonight I stopped in at the post office to retrieve the new change-of-address cards and follow the instructions. When I entered I noticed the service windows were open; I thought they would be closed. I got the forms and went out to my car where I had a pen. I would fill out the cards and take care of it right then and there.

I re-entered the post office and took my place in the queue. After a brief wait whose window opened up? None other than Ryan's. Ugh. I approached the window and asked him if I could talk to a supervisor. He told me no, as none were available that late in the evening; it was 5:30PM. I told him that despite two previous visits the mail was still being delivered to my mom's home. He remembered me from my first visit when I rented the PO Box.

I told him I was told on the phone with a woman at the 'Carrier Annex' that morning; that I was to fill out the change-of-address cards and present copy of the POA there to get it taken care of; once-and-for-all. He told me he would take the change of address cards from me; and again told me he didn't need to see the POA papers, as it wasn't their 'policy or procedure now.' This is when I began making my scene.

I said, 'You people need to get your act together! I was told on the phone this morning to come back in here for the THIRD time with my POA papers and fill out change-of-address cards for the SECOND TIME. WOULD YOU PLEASE TELL ME WHAT I NEED TO DO TO STOP THE DELIVERY OF MAIL TO MY MOM'S HOME. SHE IS NOT COMPETENT TO HANDLE IT!' I am sure I gave the people waiting in line something to talk about that evening.

The guy looked at me and said, 'I am telling you I do not need to see the POA paperwork. That is only for your protection if any fraud is alleged against you for the change-of-address, you know, like if you got caught changing it without someone's knowledge.' He obviously didn't want to be bothered with dealing with the papers. He asked who I had talked to in the morning. I didn't know; the envelope was still in the car. He was refusing to take the POA papers from me and I asked him his last name. He snapped, 'That's none of your business.' I think after my THIRD trip to the post office to take care of something simple it most definitely was MY BUSINESS. He continued, 'I'm the only Ryan here; they'll know who you are talking about.'

I said, 'Look, will you please make copies of the POA paperwork and attach it to my mom's change-of address card and I also want a receipt showing I provided you with a copy of the POA. He complied with those requests. I told him I hoped he could understand my frustration. I went out to my car and got the envelope the woman I spoke with on the phone had provided; she had addressed it to herself, went back in and handed it to him. There is a lot on my plate now trying to straighten out my mom's affairs. I don't need to be running to the post office every week to attempt to stench the flow of her resources, ya know?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I was in an older couple's home since then to solve a TV problem they were having. I was sorry to inform them the trouble was inside their TV set. They understood but resisted my suggestions to resolve the problem. They said, 'too complicated.' We started talking about technology and the older gentleman said, 'well look, this Internet is going to put the Post Office out of business.' I looked at him, smiled, and said, 'It can't happen quickly enough for me.' They were puzzled.

I explained.
They understood.

* * Click On Images To Enlarge * *