The Slack Before The Storm

What have I been doing all week, you might be wondering? After the deluge of posts over the last two weeks, why have I suddenly fallen silent? 'Is he dead,' you might think to yourself (with your fingers crossed).

The answer is mundane: I've been doing f@%$-all for a week. I'm done painting and I've nearly run out of broken things to pester the landlord about. I've been taking occasional walks around the 'hood, shopping for groceries and playing a really addictive MMORPG. The most productive thing I've done all we has been getting a haircut. All while my wife goes to work and brings home the bacon. Good times.

While this seems like a pretty good deal, I'm glad I've only got one more week before orientation and such starts for school. Any more than that and I'd start to feel a little guilt about being such a slacker. As those of you that are married already know, a little guilt goes a long way. In my case, I'm certain it'd lead to obsessive cleaning and five-course dinners every night. There is no way I can let Brooke get a taste of that. At least not until I'm a full-time stay-at-home over-achieving Dad, that is.

A few ramblings about this week:

Sunday night we had the LOUDEST thunder storm I've ever been privy to. They happen every other day in Atlanta, it seems, and I'm quite accustom to sleeping right the hell through them. Zeus was not to be ignored Sunday, however. The flashes and booms were so bright and deafening (respectively) that no one this side of Helen Keller could have slept through them. It was like the storm was directly outside our bedroom window but the spaces between the light and the fury were such that most of the strikes were happening a few miles away at least. Are there any meteorologically inclined readers that might be able to explain why the storm was so loud and bright compared to its Southern cousin?

Not to sound like I've got completely native but, if you're a tourist in downtown Boston please consult your map prior to heading out on the Freedom Trail. Perhaps while enjoying an iced coffee in a cafe or some such. Do NOT stop mid-sidewalk with your gaggle of family to check your compass every ten feet. Hey, I get lost sometimes too but if I need to break out my sextant and get my bearings, I step OUT of the flow of pedestrian traffic. It's only been a few weeks but I know that I'm close to adopting Patrick's plow-right-the-hell-through-them tactic.

Finally, there is this guy that is on Mass Ave in front of the Bank of America nearly every day of the week hawking 'Spare Change' or 'Real Change' (whatever they call it here...the newspaper that's published locally to be sold by the homeless and down-and-out. They have to register with the publishers and it's always been my understanding that they're supposed to be transitioning off the street and to a better life). Anyway, during my first two weeks here, his consistency and resolve at selling them was enough to make me want to buy one. I just never carry cash so I had to keep telling him no.

Then, just a few days ago I was walking down Mass Ave and he was sitting with a bunch of the other regulars drinking Bud out of paper bags. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for relaxing the drinking-out-of-doors laws but this scene left a bad taste in my mouth. My first notion was that he's not 'transitioning', he's maintaining and I'll be damned if I give him any money to help him in that endeavor. In recent days, though, I've soften a bit. It was just one moment, after all, and I have no idea what the circumstances were. Hell, it's not as though I'm a teetotaler who's never tippled the bottle in public before. Even if he's a street urchin that spends the rest of his life peddling those papers for enough money to buy beer, at least he's got a pretty solid work ethic and isn't requesting something for nothing.

Cheers,
S.