The Dream

Clinging tightly to sweaty skin
This subconsious tensile veil
Entangles me
Suffocates, asphixiates
Tugging upon my tumbling body
As I struggle to tear its transparent pale.

Images undulate with obfuscated forms
Over and under in the obscure
And twilight world
Within which I am wound.
Ocean waves, falling, and faces - such fears
Desire, conspire, to hold me secure.

I gasp and stretch to escape the grasp
Of the morbid forms that hold me fast
Miring me
In the unconscious solitude of sleep.
I tossle and turn trying to pierce the shroud
Under which I lie soaked in sweats of the past.

My mournful cry is muffled and muted.
Silence, the sole sound of screaming
A voice?
Can it be? Is this far-off call is seeking me?
What is real? Is not this veil?
And now a hand! --
"My Love, you were only dreaming."

-Gleno

Memo: Layoffs

SHORT LETTER FROM THE BOSS:

As the CEO of this organization, I have resigned myself to the fact that Barack Obama is our President and that our taxes and government fees will increase in a BIG way. To compensate for these increases, our prices would have to increase by about 10%. But since we cannot increase our prices right now due to the dismal state of the economy, we will have to lay off sixty of our employees instead.

This has really been bothering me, since I believe we are family here and I didn't know how to choose who would have to go. So, this is what I did. I walked through our parking lots and found sixty 'Obama' bumper stickers on our employees' cars and have decided these folks will be the ones to let go. I can't think of a more fair way to approach this problem. They voted for change, I gave it to them.

I will see the rest of you at the annual company picnic.

- The Boss

Construction Site

This was just plain awesomesauce and I'm feeling like giddy dad. I'm not sure when a baby is expected to begin building towers with blocks -- heaven knows Benjamin has been knocking towers down since he was old enough to laugh at me -- but this afternoon, Janet was able to catch him on film for the first time building something.

I've seen him put two blocks on top of one another, but this goes much further than that. According to eyewitness accounts (his mom), Ben spent close to six minutes meticulously trying to build a tower out of seven wooden blocks. I'm biased, I know, but that strikes me as a long time and a good number of blocks for a 14 month old. He started over near the fire place placing them one on top of the other, only to see them spill over. He moved to where they landed and started again, repeating this process of trying and failing again and again until he had moved halfway across the parlor. Then, at long last, under the bay window, he finally succeeded in getting all seven blocks to stack. This success culminates, as you can see in the video, with him then attempting to pick up the entire tower, assumedly to move it back to where he began his efforts.

'Jammin, you are just too cute, and Da-Da loves you very much!

IRL

Life is that thing that keeps happening until it stops.

I'm hoping that after I die, someone will find that quote and I'll be considered some sort of metaphysical genius. Books will be written about me, philosophers will argue about my impact upon Western thinking, and high school Lit Crit students will have to write research papers on my life and blogs. It could happen. It's about as likely as someone being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for Platitudes and Good Intentions, but it could happen.

This afternoon has been shrithing* by in aloof silence, taking little note of anything that might impede its progress toward evening. Between bursts of real work, I've been alternatively pondering something to blog about and wasting said subjects in posts and IMs to various people. If I had written here everything I've written today in other Internet locales, my blog would be quite full and you'd be reading something other than me writing about writing.

One subject that came up earlier was my response to Recessionista Genie's recent blog about a seeming paradox between Christianity and Political Conservatism. An interesting topic, for certain, but a debate that, I feel, ignores important foundational assumptions. This is an important step in analyzing any opinion or topic of logic: Check your assumptions. When something doesn't make sense or doesn't seem to come to a logical conclusion, check your assumptions. Sometimes I am amazed by just how much I take for granted in a debate. Take a look at Genie's "Magic Nutshell"** and the recent conversation taking place. I love Genie's writing and her opinions. Sometimes we even agree.

From the Wishful Thinking Department
Janet and I were were out and about on Columbus Day with Benjamin. We went pumpkin picking with him and had a great little family time. We had lunch with Janet's father and afterwards, we visited her mom's grave. On the way home, we chanced upon a rather nice house for sale and stopped to write down the realtor information. It's a very large five bedroom house on just over a half an acre with a pool and a barn that just screams "Mead Hall". The house is a two family that is currently being used as a single family; however, our intention would be to have Janet's father join us, were we to find ourselves as the new owners.

We shall see. I'm still very much in love with being the Lord of Upham Manor and it will take quite a lot to unseat me from our current estate.

That's about it for now. I hope to be more diligent in my blogging in the next few days. I'd like to put together another piece of fiction at some point too. I'm sure you're all anxious too read about the next biohazardous disaster that might befall me here in the lab. If you missed out the last outbreak we had here of zombieism, you might want to go back into the archives and read about it. One never knows when such much strike again, particularly with Halloween around the corner.

* Good word. Use it. http://www.etymonline.com/columns/oldenglish.htm

**http://magicnutshell.blogspot.com/2009/10/blessed-are-poor-grassroots-organizing.html#comments

.

Imported Canadian

I'm woefully behind in posts for the last few weeks, but it's certainly not been for a lack of stuff to talk about. Rather, quite the opposite is true. For instance, as anticipated, last weekend, my good friend Stephanie commenced a long sojourn from her native Canada (a dark and foreboding place) and ventured down to Boston to visit me.

I do not envy her the trip down as she arrived by bus. I've taken my share of overland bus trips and I can think of a good number of preferable ways to travel. Yet, she braved the hassles and highways and was safely delivered to me in Boston-town early Friday morning. I met her at the station and our tour of the Center of the Universe began.

Boston is one of those wonderful places where you are best served if you travel by foot. Thus we began our path in the financial district and made our way through Downtown Crossing and on up to Boston Commons. There I pointed out the Freedom Trail, that red-bricked line that runs through the streets of Boston, passing the most historic sites and points of interest.

Our first stop, one that began to feel as if it would last all day, was the cemetery called the Old Granary Burial Ground. There, Paul Revere, John Hancock, Thomas Paine, Samuel Adams, the parents of Benjamin Franklin, and Mary "Mother Goose" Vertigoose are all buried. It's a lovely old burial ground that boasts stones that are both old and interesting. Our slow walk through the grounds set the stage for the wonderful and relaxing day ahead.

From the cemetery, we followed Tremont Street down toward Quincy Market. Now, for those of you from anywhere other than Boston, that might be mistaken for "Kwinssy Market". But take note. The proper and correct name is "Kwinzy Mahket". There we toured Faneuil Hall and the brick courtyard that is the whole of Quincy Market.

Inside, we had the good fortune to come across Eric Hanson, a Ranger with the Parks Service who kindly narrated for us the origins and history of Faneuil Hall. Stephanie seemed held in rapt attention as she politely listened to Eric recount his tales of patriotic dissension. It was about halfway through his monologue when, our young Canadian friend's sarcasm got the best of her and she began to poke in jest at my beloved Boston. I won't go into details, but it involves a certain very old eagle and an lack of housekeeping. But, suffice to say, before Stephanie comes to visit your city, do make sure you've properly dusted all of the historic statuary. (My mother would have been mortified.)

Later that day, Stephanie and I enjoyed a plate of raw oysters at the Union Oyster House, purportedly the oldest continually operating restaurant in North America. We ate a the same curved bar that Samuel Adams sat before in eating shellfish.

Moving onward through the market we made our way down towards the North End, then looped back around up Beacon Hill, past the state house and through the brownstone homes designed by Charles Bullfinch. We steered clear of "Cheers" (ugh) both because she was unfamiliar with the TV show and I saddened by what has become of a once lovely little pub. It's more resembles a tacky gift shop now than it does a pub. They still know your name in there, but only if your name is "Visa" or "MasterCard."

On Saturday, we visited the Connecticut Renaissance Faire. It was Stephanie's first Ren Faire and she was once again as brave as she is lovely. She donned a swashbuckling pirate costume and even had the courage to enter in full-contact combat with a trained swordsman. Huzzah, Stephanie! You made me proud!

Sunday was more relaxing. Accompanied by Janet and little Benjamin, we had a nice meal at the No Name Restaurant on the pier and which was followed by a relaxing evening at home watching Firefly. Stephanie's choice. (I told you she was cool.)

Steph, I hope you had a good time and maybe we can have you back again some day.

News & Notes

Upham Manor is soon to be host to a visiting envoy from the sovereign state of Canada. Little is known about this far off and exotic place, other than that it is largely covered by ice and government run health care.

Our good friend Jaeline will be visiting the Manor, no doubt sent here by the Canadian Emperor (or whatever sort of ruler they have there), on a journey of peace and to hopefully open dialog between our two peoples. Prior to this diplomatic mission, Jaeline had been working with the natives of Quebec, learning their primative language, and teaching them the Queen's English. This has been quite a daunting task, one which puts her life in harm's way every day.

While in Boston, Jaeline will be exposed to local customs such as eating, drinking, more eating, and jousting. The current schedule calls for a site-seeing in Boston on Friday, a trip down to the Connecticut Renaissance Festival on Saturday, and Apple Picking & Wine Tasting on Sunday.

It is our hope that this meeting will open a new age of peace between our two countries.

Here is the only map of the mysterious land of Canada that I could find that had more information than simply, "Here there Be Monsters".

~~~~~



Little Master Benjamin continues to grow and explore his world. His latest adventures have been been forays into the cabinets and drawers of the kitchen. Armed with only a stethescope, a Phillips screwdriver, and a hacksaw, he has proven to be able to bypass the drawer security and pillage the contents.

He seems particularly interested in baking equipment. Who knows? Perhaps he may one day bake award winning cakes or help break people out of prison.

~~~~~

Work at the laboratory continues to be very positive. I have recently unveiled a number of new classes for personnel here and they have been well received. It's quite amazing how much an enjoyable job can affect one's life. Janet has seen me in both the high mountains and the low valleys of employment and she can attest to how completely this one aspect of life can affect my attitude and outlook on life. I'm very blessed to be where I am and doing what I do -- and I know it. Not a day goes by that I'm not thankful for where I am.

~~~~~

That's all for now. There haven't been many pressing matters of late to bring forth to this forum. I continue to despise Obama and all things quasi-socialist, I'm disturbed by high prices, and I feel strong contempt for the failures of the GOP. But for a time, at least, politics is not a weight I care to carry around. I'm enjoying the beautiful autumn we're having. If the New England Patriots can figure out how to motivate their offensive line and perhaps sign a few linebackers, all should be well with the world, at least for a while.

Millions of Peaches, Peaches for Free

Peaches come from a can.
They were put there by a man
In a factory downtown.
And if I had my little way
I'd eat peaches every day
Sun-soaking bulges in the shade.

So goes the song Peaches by the Presidents. Here on Upham Manor, however, our peaches don't come from a can. They are home grown in our own orchard. (OK, so maybe it isn't an "orchard" so much as it is a single tree, but it's mine and I love it.) I love peaches. I think they're the perfect fruit. You don't have to peel them, skin them, or spit out seeds. And these are, without a doubt, absolutely the most delicious, juicy, sweet sun-soaked bulges you've ever tasted. I'm not exaggerating. These suckers are absolutely amazing. I'll give you a dollar if you try one and don't agree they're the best you've ever tasted.

Now, being that they are grown right here on my property, they are a bit more "real" than what you might be used to. That is to say, they are not flawless, pink and yellow orbs that you'd likely find on the shelves of a market. There are little brown speckles (made by rain spots I am told), and it's not at all uncommon for their to be scars and breaks in the skin. My peaches have suffered from splitting. I've tried a number of things to fix this, but I suspect it comes from rapid growth. The skin on top tends to split open, sort of like you'd see on a tomato. It heals over, but it leaves a grey scar on the fruit. Because of this, a large portion of my crop tends to look less than appealing to most people's spoiled eye.

So, if you come over, I'll likely serve them cut up in a bowl for you to eat like tiny slices of cantelope, with all the imperfections carefully skinned away. Or, perhaps after a feast, I'll serve you half a peach, peeled and soaking in a glass red wine. If you've never tried that little Italian secret, you've not lived.

So come by the Manor this week. The peaches have all been picked and are preparing to be eaten and I can guarantee you that you won't be disappointed.