It's Summertime, and the livin' is easy...
...at least for now.

Two things have happened in the last week that signal the end of summer.

I heard my first cricket. It was in the Wal-mart parking lot, hiding behind the post office box. Then I heard another at home. Fall is coming. My favorite time of year -- September through February -- is almost here.

The second thing that signals the end of summer is school orientation for AngryTeen. She's heading into tenth grade. I like the way the school sets it up: each grade has its own night to go in, get lunch accounts set up, get class schedules (which are surely going to be changed the first week of school anyway) and have school pictures taken.

I dread a lot of school events because I hate standing in line. I'd rather have a tooth pulled than stand in line. But the night went smooth, and we were out of there in about fifteen minutes. Angryteen wasn't sure where her locker was, so she needed a little time to figure it out.

This was a good, stress-free way to start off the school year. I hope the rest of it goes as well.

A Great Movie
Most Patient Wife and I went to see the movie Hustle and Flow the other night. I’ll make it simple for anyone reading this with a short statement: This is a great movie, it should win a ton of awards, and I hope they make a billion dollars. Go see it.

Now for the review.

This is the story of DJay, a pimp and drug dealer. (Played by the versatile Terrence Dashon Howard.) This movie doesn’t glorify his life; far from it. His whores are worn out and unglamorous, and his drug trade brings him no prosperity.

One day, on a drug delivery to a regular customer, DJay discovers that a local rapper named Skinny Black who made the national scene is coming back to the old neighborhood to celebrate the fourth of July. Skinny Black is played by Ludacris.

DJay remembers Skinny Black’s humble beginnings and his own days as an amateur deejay and rapper. DJay believes that if Skinny can make out of Memphis, he can too. And so the quest begins. DJay turns his attention to making a rap recording that Skinny Black will hear and thus get the break that will take him off the streets.

DJay is aided in this endeavor by an old acquaintance named Key (Anthony Anderson, who does some nice, understated work here) who works as an audio technician, recording high school concerts and court depositions. Key makes a living at what he does, after a fashion (just like DJay), but his middle-class lifestyle is no more satisfying to him than DJay’s pimping is to DJay. They are joined by Shelby, a guy who knows a little about audio production and supports himself with a job filling vending machines.

There are a few subplots involving DJay and his whores. One works as an exotic dancer, another is too pregnant to turn tricks, and the third rides around in D-Jay’s beat up old car tricking at $20 a pop. Shug, the mother, just may be the love of DJay’s life if he could afford such a luxury. She is the most supportive of DJay and his schemes and even helps lay down a track for the recording.

In the course of this movie, DJay actually becomes an Everyman of sorts. I know nothing at all about rap and care for it even less, but I certainly have felt the same way DJay, Shelby and the others feel. They want to rise above their station for a while. They want a moment when someone looks at them and doesn’t see a pimp, a whore, a vending machine filler or the guy who pushes buttons on a tape recorder.

They want to be seen, for one moment, as artists. As someone who has done something bigger with their lives than they have ever done before. And in this struggle, DJay – pimp, thief, drug dealer, thug, loser – becomes heroic and even noble.

I can’t tell you exactly when it happened, but there was a moment in the movie I started to get restless. Not because I didn’t like it, or that I was bored, but I actively wanted the same thing that DJay wanted. MPW asked me if I was all right, and I told her that the characters were getting under my skin. I was itching for DJay to win.

Hustle And Flow is a well-written, well-acted movie. I was sure that I would be able to predict the ending, but I was wrong. It is entertaining, and fun (sort of) and tragic and triumphant in unexpected ways. And it’s got a killer score.

Go see this movie! (But leave the kids at home.)

My Snobby Reading List
Oh yes, let's talk about me some more, shall we?

I have done a bit of reading since my last post. I read Og Mandino's A Different Way To Live, which I didn't really care for.

I liked his other work, The Greatest Miracle In The World and The Christ Commission chief among those books. There's not much new stuff in "Different Way" and maybe that's why I didn't like it. Basically, his advice to people who are unhappy is to "Buck up, soldier!" "Count your blessings!" "Smile!"

Eh.

Janet Evanovich's latest Stephanie Plum book Eleven On Top was a quick, fun read. Think of Fran Drescher from the TV show The Nanny and that character as a bounty hunter, and you have the tone of these books. It doesn't sound like it would work, but Evanovich is a pretty good writer working in a genre that she is a master of (goofy yet sexy chick with an endearing cast of co-horts capers through wacky adventures in New Jersey), and I have loved all eleven books of this series.

It's not great literature, but it's a lot of fun.

I also read The Politically Incorrect Guide to American History. It was an okay read, and there were a few things in there that I had forgotten.

My problem with this book (as I have with a lot of stuff on the extremes of idealogy) is the shrillness of it. The author never comes out and says "Those Libruls are wrong about just like they are about EVERYTHING" but the sentiment is there. At least I felt it.

I was hoping that this book would have been a little more ... fun. I love history, and I love trivia. It seems to me that there this a whole bunch of stuff out there that we haven't learned -- and even more that we should un-learn if we want a better understanding of where we came from.

But this book doesn't make the case.

I haven't picked up The Gospel According to Paul in a couple of days. As much as I admire Paul, and I adore reading about him, this book just hasn't engaged me. But I want to finish it.

But here is an engaging book that I started yesterday and I am about halfway through: The Last Voyage of Columbus. It's a tale of shipwreck, triumph, tragedy, irony, political intrigue and more -- and it's true. Author Dugard weaves a compelling tale about someone history has alternately lionized and reviled. You'll learn a lot about Columbus' world -- and the man himself, as he undertakes what may be his greatest adventure.

Okay, that's enough for now. Move on the next post, please.

Bluegrass-A-Rama
Attentive readers (Hi, Sherry!) will remember that I won tickets to go to a Bluegrass festival. The dates are from 11-14 August, and I am able to go for two days.

Unfortunately, I'm driving cab tonight so I won't be able to go on Sunday. I am spending a good part of the day out there today. Last night, I decided to take a trip out there to get the lay of the land. I wasn't expecting much. Wowzers, was I wrong!

El Rancho Manana is much more than I thought it would be, and I will have photographic evidence of this in tomorrow's entry. The place is huge, with a lot of horses and camping opportunities for hundreds of people in tents, campers, and everything in between. There's a lake, a bunch of trails, and a concert area that is unbelievable.

Smack dab in the middle of Minnesota, there's a giant bandstand in the woods with top of the line lighting and sound and a 40-foot stage. I can't believe I've lived in this area for as long as I have without knowing about this place -- or having been there.

The lineup of artists is impressive, but I'm no expert. This is an early stage of my enjoyment of this music, and I don't know a lot about it.

I know when it's done well or not, and the people playing were pretty good. But my ear isn't sophisticated enough to tell you much about the music itself. It all sounds somewhat the same to me.

This is similar to how the blues used to be for me. After many years of devoted listening to the blues, talking about that music, reading stuff about it, and just plain obsessing on it, I can now pick out the various styles, artists, back-up bands and other details of a song or concert.

But at first, it was all the same.

So I'm getting ready now to head back out to the Rancho. I'm packing a lunch, the camera, a bunch of notebooks and pens (I'm always looking for stories for the newspaper I write for) and bug spray. I'm also bringing one of our folding chairs.

I plan on soaking up a lot of music out there today, and I'll have pictures tomorrow. but first I have kitty business to attend to (one of our princesses needs her box cleaned), and a workout at the World's Least Intimidating Health Club.

The Ferengi House
Remember that I had an interview at the catalog company I used to work for?

Well, they want me back. They wanted me back at my old hours, which doesn't work, so it'll take a couple of weeks until they start their next training class before they can find a shift that can accomodate me. So we're looking at going back in September.

Unless a dream job (or one that offers an actual living wage) comes along, I'll be just a toll-free number away from people who placed an order for overpriced crap they could have bought for Wal-Mart, at the low low low interest rate of just 24.9%.

But the people are nice, and it's not like the job is actually very difficult. So that's something. And more importantly, the pay period is alternate to my group home job, so I'll get paid every week, which is always nice.

Heartbreak Hotel
I'm alone for the next few days.

Most Patient Wife is out of town attending a conference relating to her work, and AngryTeen is visiting her grandparents for a while.

So that just leaves me and the kitties. But I have a big week planned.

Tonight, I'm driving cab. Woo hoo.

Tomorrow I'm working on a series of guest editorials for the paper.

Wednesday, I'm taking one of the guys from the group home I work at on an outing. He's excited as all get-out; for me, it's just another day of work.

Thursday, I'm doing something fun with MPW. Haven't decided what just yet.

Friday, I'm taking MPW to the airport. Then I'm going to the Minnesota Bluegrass and Old-Time Music Association Festival at "Beautiful El Rancho Manana" in Richmond, Minnesota

Saturday, I'm back at the Festival. I won tickets to attend two days, which is cool.

Sunday, I have to make sure the house is ready for the Return of The WomenFolk.

Monday, I'm picking MPW up back at the airport.

In the meantime, I'm reading and writing. I'm plowing my way through The Gospel According to Paul by Robin Griffith-Jones, a super-scholar of the Anglican Church. It's fascinating, but slow going, so I've taken in some other books as light reading:

Appaloosa, by Robert B. Parker. The creator of Spenser tells the tale of two itinerant lawmen in the old west. A fun read.

Everything You know Is Wrong: The Disinformation Guide to Secrets and Lies, edited by Russ Kick. A disturbing book, documented and researched -- and probably true, every frickin word.

From the Columbine shootings to the Manson murders to Mad Cow Disease, (and a whole lot more) this book has piles of resources, interviews and documents to show that there were more than two shooters at the first, the second had little to do at all with race but everything to do with a drug deal gone bad, and that there really have been deaths of Mad Cow in the US. Interesting, compelling and scary as hell. I've re-read this thing twice, and MPW said she wants to look at it herself.

Hallowed Murder is the first book in a series featuring Jane Lawless, a restraunt owner in Minneapolis who investigates crime. Jane and her irrepressible sidekick Cordelia run around making people mad and figuring things out until the truth is brought to light. Jane and Cordelia are best friends, and lesbians. I plan on reading the rest of the book in this series.

Waiting at the library for me to pick up is the latest Stephanie Plum novel Eleven On Top. These books by Janet Evanovich are funny and fast-moving, so I am really looking forward to reading it in the next couple of days.

All of this, combined with working out at the World's Least Intimidating Health Club (TM) should keep me busy enough, I suppose.

Just when I thought I was out...
I've been putting off the inevitable. Since I no longer work at the restaurant/coffee house, I'm going to have to get a different job.

So I've been out there, filling out forms and standing in line, to quote Billy Joel. (I just typed that as "Billy Jowl" by accident, and briefly thought about leaving it to see if anyone noticed.)

In the town I live in, there are two really big employers. One is a granite company, and to be honest I'd rather not work there. The other is a brewery, and even though it's factory work, the pay is good, and the hours seem okay. Of the two, I could work there for a while.

I don't really want to leave the group home job. It's okay work, and the company treats it's employees pretty well. But the pay is inadequate, and it seems that no matter what I do, or how many times I apply for other positions, that I have gone as far as I can with this company.

This job is not enough for me. It's not enough pay, and it's not enough for me in as far as being meaningful. The plan is to find a full-time job somewhere else and drop down to part time with my present employer.

I've applied at a whole bunch of places and to be honest, they are all on the order of factory work or retail. I figure it this way: I need to make more money, and since no one will hire me to do the work I really want to do (something in theatre, or working with homeless people), I should just take the job that compensates me the most for the least amount of intrusion into the rest of my life.

So...I went back to Ferengi House, the catalog company I've worked for so many times over the years and told them I was interested in coming back this fall to work the holiday season.

I have an interview with them tomorrow morning.

Setting the world ablaze
On Saturday morning, I got off work at my group home job and took a different route home. Instead of taking the direct highway, the road took me past a beautiful little lake. I've lived in this area for 20 years, and I've known where this place was, but I've never been there before.

It was 8:12 AM, and the sun was shining, the temp about 70 degrees, and I was sitting at a public access lot off the shore of a wonderful lake. Suzanne Vega was singing about heartache on KVSC, and a retired couple were playing with their golden retriever. He was a big dog, mature with a slightly gray muzzle and thick, muscular legs. He was almost shaking with excitement, waiting for action.

The woman would throw a ball into the water, and the dog would bound in, swim after it and wait for her signal to bring it back to shore. Her husband stood behind her and rubbed her shoulders. I could tell that they were a little cold in the morning air, and the dog kept coming up on the beach and soaking them with sprays of water as he shook out his coat.

I watched this first from my car, then on the shore, and then on a dock that stretched out thirty feet into the lake. I think this was about the most peaceful quarter hour I've spent in a long, long time.

I had two thoughts:

1. This was about as perfect as a moment gets for me. The one thing I missed was that my wife wasn't with me.

2. Wowzers, I'm boring and old.

Yesterday's Technology Tomorrow
You may remember that I got my cell phone wet a few weeks back and was forced to buy another. Given that this was my third cell phone in a year and I didn't want to spend much money, I went to Ebay and found one for $20. The thing works just fine.

But it's at least five years old, which means that it's been obsolete for about four years. I believe that at one time, this was a cutting edge piece of communication technology. But trust me: this phone is so last yesterday.

People snicker and point at me when I use it public. The ring (with a choice of four -- count them!-- four) sounds to choose from is so tinny that the phone sounds like a kid's pretend cell phone.

The look of disgust on the faces of passersby who hear Mozart clinking from my little phone is pretty disheartening. It's a good thing I'm married; chicks would never dig a guy who carried a phone this out of date.

In a fit of nostalgia, I dug my previously baptized Nokia out of the drawer of my nightstand and hit the power button. Wonder of wonders, it came on!

I immediately made plans to ditch the Ebay Special and rejoin the 21st century, but then remembered that my Nokia has a major problem: the earpiece doesn't work, and if I want to talk on it, I have to use the speakerphone.

Maybe people aren't pointing and snickering at the phone, after all.

So the plan is to send the Nokia in for repair and keep the Ebay Special activated until I get it back. Then I'll have a backup phone for the inevitable.

Cuz you just know I'll get my phone wet again. And when I do, I'll be able to stay in touch with the people of this century with Yesterday's Technology Tomorrow.

Dude, Where's My Montage?
Everyone has a set of rules that they live their lives by, and I'm no exception. I think I've worked my way up to 106 rules, and someday I'm going to write them all down for the edification of all and sundry.

But for today, I'll give you just a couple:

Rule For Life #1:
People Are Dumb.

Rule For Life #2:
If you want to be rich, capitalize on Rule #1.

There are a whole bunch more, some sarcastic, some funny, some tragic -- all true in their way.

I would love to see other people's rules for life, but since I'm the one writing this, I guess we're stuck with what I've come up with and here's the the one for today:

Rule For Life #106:
Unless you're in a movie, you don't get a montage.

I took the plunge and joined a little health club. I won't name it here, because I know people who go there. If you saw the movie Dodgeball, this club is similar to the one operated by Vince Vaughn's's character. It's clean and okay, but it's not very upscale. And the clientele is made up of a lot of different types of people. And it has a snack bar that serves pizza and beer. I'm not kidding.

Sure, there are a few people in the place that look like models, but there are just as many fat people, old folks, little kids and just ordinary people who want to workout or swim, or even tan.

I consider this to be the World's Least Intimidating Health Club (TM).

I've visited a couple of times to just get the feel of the place and swim a little and soak in the hot tub. But this morning, on my way home from work, I stopped in for an actual workout. As I hit the showers before going in for a soak, it occurred to me that if this were a movie, my character would probably get a montage about this time.

You know... a montage. Every sports movie (or movies with makeovers that macho guys like me would never ever ever watch), the main character reaches a point where they have to make changes in their lives. This is usually epitomized by going to a gym, or running up steps and smacking around some hanging beef in a cooler, or buying cool clothes or what have you.

And as the character goes through those motions, some rock anthem is playing in the background and we see the person getting stronger, losing weight, looking cooler, gaining confidence -- all in about three and a half minutes. As the music does a slow fade, we see the transformed character ready to pound the crap out of Clubber Lang, or get the girl, or drive a car around in a circle really fast or something like that.

Man, I wish I could have a montage. But standing in the shower, I conjured up a vision of the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld saying, "No montage for you!"

Perhaps that's why you see so many people who work out or run listening to music on a tape or CD player, or some MP3 device.

Maybe we're all looking for montage.