Life In The Slow Lane

There’s nothing like the call of the wild to rouse somebody from a deep slumber.

Two cats decided to have a battle on my front porch.

Or at least that’s what I figure based on the screeching I heard.

But then again, it could have been two bears squaring off for all I know because at 4:30 in the freakin’ morning my brain’s not really functioning all that well - at least not until I’ve downed a couple of Pepsi’s and dipped into the tin for a few handfuls of M&MS.

Don’t get me wrong. I love cats. But I don’t love them at 4:30 a.m. when they’ve just come home from the bar and decide to have a little alcohol-induced spat on my front patio.

I know that one of them had to be Tommy, the big orange cat that’s been hanging around in the back yard keeping a watchful eye over the bird feeders as the birds sit on the roof and cast a wary glance in his direction.

I don’t like Tommy too much as long as he’s sitting in my back yard waiting for an easy dinner. Aren’t his folks feeding him well? He was back out there again later in the morning, thinking he was hiding in some brush. Well, I saw him. And if I saw him certainly the birds saw him - and that explains why there wasn’t a single bird at the feeders even though all three of them are filled to the max.

If I chase Tommy away, the birds go away too.

Ah, what a tangled web we weave.

I won’t have time to watch for him tomorrow. It’s another early wake-up call, this time to head into the office and out to the schools for their grand opening of the 2008-09 school year. I’ve covered all the orientations and now it’s time to get down to the real deal - back into the classroom for the next 10 months.

Seems like an eternity, doesn’t it? Well, in reality, it’s only 180 days of actual time in the school - if that’s any consolation to the kids.

Time to take down the “Pool’s open, dive carefully” signs and replace them with “School’s open, drive carefully.”

Luckily, summer hasn’t gone totally away. The fine folks at AccuWeather say today’s gonna be hot, hot, hot - about 90 degrees. Too bad we couldn’t have had that during the summer. Better late than never, I suppose.

Still, it’s time to face reality. Summer’s winding down, autumn’s only a skip away and I’ve already got my junk mail catalogs advertising the Christmas season.

It should only be a couple more months before I get the summer 2009 catalog.

I’ve extended my long Labor Day weekend by taking a couple of vacation days today and Wednesday and heading back to work on Thursday for the opening - again - of the new school year.

I need the couple of extra days to mentally prepare myself for driving around to every school I cover and taking the same pictures I took last year and the year before and the year before that and doing the same interviews I did last year and the year before and the year before that.

Some things never change.

So far I haven’t done anything of any substance over the long weekend except clean the tub.

Excitement personified.

Not that there aren’t a million and one things I could do. The garden needs to be weeded, the gutters need to be cleaned in anticipation of the falling autumn leaves that will no doubt end up in them, the interior of the house needs a general GI party, I need a haircut, I’ve got a slew of garbage bags filled with soda cans and bottles to turn in for redemption, and it wouldn’t hurt to take some of the stuff in the garage up into the attic for storage.

But will I get around to any of this?

Well, the haircut, maybe, because it’s starting to make me look like Shaggy in Scooby Doo - or even Scooby Doo himself. I keep telling myself I’m going to see Bob the Barber on a more frequent basos and I always renege on that vow. But when it’s time to start putting gel in the hair to keep it from looking like a porcupine, it’s time to see Bob.

It’s a great day to be outside anyway. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the temperature’s a balmy 70 degrees. There’s a hint of autumn in the air as leaves start to change their colors, and the pumpkins in the garden are just about ready for picking.

What I’ll do with them after they’ve been picked is anyone’s guess. I don’t think that far in advance when I throw the seeds into the ground.

Maybe I’ll try my hand at a pumpkin pie.

Maybe I’ll carve them out for Halloween and hope they stick around for the next two months.

Or maybe I’ll just go ahead and toss ‘em on the ground to save the young punks the trouble on Halloween.

It’s Labor Day and, of course, time for Jerry Lewis’s annual appeal.

Pssst, Jerry, got a couple of bucks you can spare???

Massena’s Labor Day Parade.

Enjoy.

And so you won’t miss it, Slic Network Solutions will be streaming Massena’s huge Labor Day parade live on the Internet Monday. In fact, the camera’s already rolling on Main Street. Maybe I’ll pop my head in there and say howdy.

Here’s the release from Slic. Tune in and watch:

————————————————-
For Immediate Release
————————————————-

Slic Network Solutions to stream Massena Labor Day Parade.

Potsdam, NY ­ August 26, 2008 –­ Slic Network Solutions, a local provider of business phone and broadband Internet services, will provide a live video/audio stream of the Massena Labor Day Parade.

Similar to the coverage of the Potsdam Summer Festival, Slic will provide a live stream of the Labor Day Parade using webcasting technology. The webcam will be in place later this week and will remain active until after the holiday at which time an archive video will be available.

Viewers from all over the world can watch the event by going to www.slic.com and clicking on the webcam in the upper left corner.

Businesses and organizations that wish to have their events streamed as a webcast should contact Jeff Yette, Sales Engineer at (315) 274-9050 ext. 2 or by e-mail: sales@slic.com.

The days are starting to get cool and crisp. The latest temperature reading is 55 degrees. The beach officially closes on Monday. School officially starts on Sept. 4.

The dog days of summer, it seems, are winding down.

Rough, rough.

As of today, there are 6 days until Labor Day, the last hurrah of the summer, 27 days until fall begins and, with that in mind, the stores are already peddling the Halloween stuff because there’s only 66 more days and we don’t want to wait until the last minute to get that giant inflatable glow-in-the-dark ghost for the front yard.

Yup, fall is in the air.

It hasn’t been much of a beach summer. We haven’t really sweated this one out like we’ve done in recent summers. Oh, there have been a few days when the cool water of the St. Lawrence River would feel like a Godsend, but they’ve been few and far between.

Which is a good thing because if I hit the beach I probably would have been mistaken for a beached whale and got harpooned on the spot.

I’ve changed my diet pretty radically lately, but it doesn’t seem to help. I’ve started eating more salads and more Japanese noodles. I can’t tell you the last time I’ve been to a McDonalds or a Burger King because I honestly can’t remember. It’s been that long.

So theoretically I should be losing weight, right?

I probably would - if I didn’t have the Peanut M&Ms filling the candy container on top of the microwave or the two packages - buy one, get one free - of Triple Chocolate Klondikes in the freezer.

Hey, a man’s gotta have his vices.

At least I put them out of my reach so I need to walk (translation: exercise) to get them.

Still, the pounds continue to sit in my belly.

There is a bright spot though.

I’ve got plenty of time to get “beach-ready” for next summer, which doesn’t start for another 299 days.

I’m beginning to worry about the birds feeding in the back yard because a gentleman from the neighborhood named “Tom Cat” has been keeping a real close watch over them.

There’s even a couple of feathers in the ground - and I hope it’s because the birds lost ‘em while they were dodging Tom’s jaws instead of losing them in Tom’s jaws.

I’m a cat lover, but I won’t tolerate Tom’s antics. I see him anywhere near my bird feeder he’s gonna have a nice cold pail of water dousing him.

I think it’s time for the birds of a feather to flock together and scare the big orange furball out of the neighborhood.

I’d chase Tom away myself, but my muscles are too sore after volunteering to set up for the annual St. Mary’s picnic yesterday. Twenty-six cafeteria-style tables had to be moved from the social hall to the great outdoors, along with a corresponding number of chairs.

Lemme tell ya, I earned my hamburger and potato salad yesterday. I can hardly move my legs or arms and especially my back today.

The crew got lucky though. We didn’t have to move the stuff back into the social hall after the shindig. Father Mike hired some young dudes to do it for a little moolah.

Talk about your Lord Have Mercy.

It was a pretty good time. Good food, food friendship, good dancing to the good music of The Lime Hollow Boys.

They didn’t play any Christmas music though.

That was reserved for Friday night.

And here you think stores push the seasons on us way too early. School was barely out and they were having back-to-school sales.

But I digress.

John Ward owns the Riverside Campgrounds in Brasher Falls, a seasonal camping area on the scenic St. Regis River, and they had a Christmas In July celebration. Dig out the decorations, dress up your trailer and sing a few Christmas carols and you might win a prize.

I was asked to be one of the judges for the decorating contest. Ever try to get into the ho ho ho spirit in July when it’s 80 degrees out and people are dressed in shorts and sitting around a campfire toasting marshmallows?

It ain’t easy.

But they did it, and a good time was had by all.

Especially the mosquitoes.

Yes, it is, thank you very much.

Can’t you tell by the dripping forehead and the shirt sticking to my body.

Ask me again and I’ll knock your lights out.

I can’t believe I’m saying this after the long winter we had, but…

Think snow…

If you’re so inclined to get out in this weather, there’s no lack of things to do around here. I invite you to check out my expanded Calendar of Events to find something that interests you. And if you’ve got an activity coming up that you want to publicize, lemme know and I’ll add it to the calendar.

Now, please excuse me.

It’s time for my 10th cold shower today.

Heat, heat, go away, come again some other day.

Visiting Norwood on the 4th of July is almost like stepping into a Norman Rockwell painting of old-time America.

The park is full of people sitting around on benches, chatting about the weather and the news, while others toss a football or softball around and kids play on the playground equipment.

John “Big Bad” Wolfe from the Lime Hollow Boys is spinning the music that echoes through the village - big-band sounds from years gone by. The music is occasionally interrupted by the pealing of the bells from one of the nearby churches.

The sky is blue with white dots of clouds, and flags flutter from the same warm summer breeze that carries the delightful aroma of a nearby barbecue.

It seems there’s nary a care in the world. No thoughts about the $4.33 a gallon gas or the war in Iraq. Just a peaceful, lazy day on the Norwood Village Green, basking in the sun and the music and the friendship.

And then there’s the parade.

Everybody loves a parade.

Here are some highlights from the 2008 edition.

Enjoy.

And when the parade’s over everybody heads over to Firemen’s Field for racing, games, food and, of course, the obligatory 4th of July fireworks.

Norman Rockwell couldn’t have done better himself.

I hate holidays.

When they fall during the week, somebody has to work to put a paper out for the following day.

So much for the 4th of July barbecue.

Actually, the boss gave me as senior reporter a choice - work the 4th of July on Friday or Labor Day in September

I chose neither

It didn’t fly.

So here are my choices. I can work the 4th of July and drive to Norwood for their big-time parade and festivities at the Firemen’s Field, snap a few pictures, talk to a few folks about oh what fun it is, head back to the office and write.

Or I can work on Labor Day and cover Massena’s granddaddy of Labor Day parades, featuring every member of labor you’d ever want to see - and plenty of politicians tagging along to show their support for organized labor and maybe campaign a little bit to keep their elected position. And since this is an election year, there’s sure to be tons of politicians already in office or wannabes who hope to be in office marching along the parade route. Hell, the governor even came one year.

And then when the parade’s over, all the labor dudes head down to Springs Park for the free beer and hot dogs and beer and hamburgers and beer - along with the politicians, who as a newspaper reporter, we have an obligation to interview to find out (1) why they’re running again, or (2) why they want to run in the first place. And we get to talk to all the organized labor bigwigs to find out why labor is so important. Well, they always say, without labor no work would get done.

And then we head back to the office and write the myriad of stories and then check in at the Knights of Columbus to see how Jerry’s Kids are faring during this year’s Massena telethon. And when all is said and done, we’ve written more in one day than we’d normally write in a week.

So let’s look at the big picture.

Independence Day. Parade. Fireworks. Fun events.

Labor Day. Parade. Politicians. Free food and beer.

Free beer at Springs Park or not, I’m choosing the lesser of two evils and working on Friday. Somebody else can have the politicians, thankyouvermuch.

I am, however getting a day off Thursday.

I just have to write my ass off today to get the day off.

Don’t you just love taking time off? You work endlessly to catch up on everything before you leave and you work endlessly when you get back to catch up on everything that’s landed on your desk while you were gone.

There’s no happy medium.

It almost makes it senseless to take time off.

But I’m doing it anyway. The cupboards are getting bare and need to be restocked. The hair’s getting a little shaggy and I need to visit Bob the Barber. The garden needs to be weeded. The house needs to be cleaned.

Maybe I should just call Thursday Labor Day.

Happy Labor Day. Hope it was a long, restful weekend for everyone.

In usual Labor Day fashion, Jerry Lewis is back on the air looking for money for “his kids.” God love him for doing it for the last 50-some years. And not to degrade his loving effort in the least, but I just have a couple of quick questions…

(1) Why aren’t there any telethons for other diseases that affect as many, if not more people? Like cancer. I don’t ever recall seeing any major fundraising efforts for cancer, but we’re no closer to solving that disease than we are muscular dystrophy. And, at least up here, we have a lot more people dying of cancer than we do muscular dystrophy.

(2) Just where does all this money come from that plops into Jerry’s lap year after year? Nearly $60 million right now. Maybe it’s because I live in a small community, but I see major sponsor after major sponsor - supermarkets, firefighters, real estate companies - coming into Jerry’s studio and presenting him with checks for millions. Yet I recall very few, if any, fundraising efforts in this neck of the woods that would raise that kind of money. Maybe I’m just too much in the boonies. The only time I see folks around here get serious about muscular dystrophy fundraising is when the calendar says it’s Labor Day.

So again, where is all this money coming from? And along the same lines, I’m curious about how many people pledge money and then don’t fulfill that pledge. Not to be a party pooper, but there have to be some folks out there who get caught up in the passion of the telethon and run to their phone and say, “Put me down for $500.” But then when it’s time to pay the piper, they don’t have $500.

Just food for thought…

Every time I watch the telethon it reminds me of when I was young and we knew summer was coming to an end. The days were getting cooler. Our houses had the smell of brand new clothes and supplies that we’d be taking to school when it started in a few days. We celebrated the end of summer by grabbing the pigskin and engaging in some rough and tough tackle football in the back yard in preparation for the upcoming NFL season.

And now we’re adults and if we tried that football stuff in the back yard, we’d up in the Massena Memorial Hospital emergency room with doctors putting splints on our legs and arms.

NEWS FLASH: Now they’re up to nearly $62 million. The money keeps rolling in. Harold from the International Association of Firefighters is back with his final check of the telethon. Only a few more million, bringing their total this year to $25,230,000.

I didn’t know firefighters were that rich. Maybe I’m in the wrong job.

But I digress…..

In case anyone cares that I haven’t posted as regularly as I used to, let me explain.

I’m being worked to death.

I have a ton of work to do around the house when I’m not being worked to death at the office.

I’m in the process of rebuilding my computer with all the goodies I used to have before it crashed.

It wasn’t a pretty sight watching a grown man sit at the computer and cry as the blue screen of death repeatedly came up saying it couldn’t boot up. Everything - pictures, movies, financial data, etc. etc. - gone with the wind. So needless to say, when I’m not working at the office or at the house, I’m in the rebuilding process. Sliding CD after CD into the drive and searching high and low on the Internet to find programs. Reconstructing my financial files from the credit union so I know what my checking account balance is. Making sure every picture I had on my computer is safely tucked away on the file storage website, Flickr, and keeping my fingers crossed that Flickr doesn’t suffer a meltdown.

It’s getting there. Some of the programs aren’t being cooperative this time around for some reason, but I suppose I can do without having Front Page Sports Baseball on my hard drive since I do have High Heat Major League Baseball. Concessions, concessions, concessions.

Actually, what would be really cool is if I just bought a new computer and started fresh.

Maybe Jerry has a few dollars he can lend me.

We’ve all heard of Boxing Day, the day after Christmas when everybody lines up at the store with the stuff they hoped they’d never get and want to dump as soon as possible.

Chia Pets come to mind.

But might I suggest Hallmark - who we all know controls the holidays anyway - start a new line of Bonding Day merchandise.

You know, it’s the day right before Christmas Eve - or even Christmas Eve itself - when men from all walks of life get together at the mall and aimlessly wander around while wondering what to buy their loved ones.

Today was my Bonding Day, and I’m so pleased to tell you that for two consecutive years I’ve managed to stay far, far, far away from that evil corporation called Wal-Mart.

I did the mall, I did OfficeMax, I did BJs Wholesale Club. But there was no Wal-Mart anywhere in my day. In fact, I never even came close to the parking lot. I took a back route so I could purposely not see what a madhouse Sal Walton’s place would be today.

The mall was bad enough. You’ll usually find about five cars and they all seem to be employees. The parking lot was filled to the brim today. Yes, men are all alike. We wait and we wait and we wait and finally say, “Well, it’s time.” And then we typically head to Bath and Body Works and buy yet another bottle of bubble bath.

Yes, won’t she be surprised? You betcha!

So now the shopping’s done and the presents are under the tree and the cats are in seclusion so we don’t see beady little eyeballs looking at us from the branches.

In other Christmas preparations, I broke down and went to confession today at church. Things sure have changed over the years. When I was young you were crammed into a little dark compartment where this stranger on the other side of a sliding panel was asking you all kinds of questions about what a bad boy you’d been. Now you get to tell him in person, comfortably seated in chairs facing each other.

I think I liked the darkness and anonymity better.

But I confessed and I did my penance and, hey, I actually felt better when I walked out of the church. Now I’m ready for Christmas Midnight Mass and, as part of my New Year’s resolution, to head back to church every Sunday again. I feel a deep sense of guilt every Sunday when I look at the clock and realize Mass is in session and I’m reading Peanuts.

For once this might be a New Year’s resolution I keep.

OK, so I wasn’t quite done with my last post. But once I get on Georgie Boy’s case, there’s no stopping me unless I just post it and get it done and over with.

But I forgot to tell you about the Christmas tree.

We put one up. Is that really such a big deal?

It is when you have five cats.

The tree went up this afternoon and, when I got home from work, the fun began. It started rocking and rolling and two eyeballs were peering out from the branches. That would have been Tabu.

I thought, “Well, let her be if she just wants to lay in the branches.” But she wasn’t content. She had to climb to the top and that tree was a shaking away and that’s when I said, “Okey dokey, you’re banished to the bedroom.”

Round one - Bob wins, Cat Loses.

Next.

Now I’m sitting here watching the NFL Network’s coverage of the Green Bay Packers and Minnesota Vikings. Don’t ask me why. I’m just a glutton for punishment I guess. But there’s only so much one person can take from Bryant Gumbel, the lead announcer for the telecasts. To put it bluntly, Bryant, you’re boring as hell and you don’t have a clue what’s going on.

How else could you explain his lack of vision when a play is blown dead because the offense jumped off-sides. “Oh,” he says, “there seems to be a whistle. And there’s this yellow thing on the ground. We’ll have to find out what that it.”

Tip to NFL Network - seek new announcers for next year. Please put that on top of your list for New Year’s resolutions.

And here’s a tip to the person who e-mailed us a Christmas card at work. Has anyone told you it ain’t kosher to list every freakin’ addressee in the “To” space? Ever hear of sending the e-mail to yourself and doing a BCC so none of the addressees shows up in everybody’s box? Don’t know about you, but I don’t like having my e-mail address broadcast to the entire world. In this case, it was the office e-mail address, but the same principle applies. BCC, folks.

Since he happens to head a branch of our federal government, you can guess some of the e-mail addresses I’ve harvested from this. Not good - particularly when you’re sending them to snoopy reporters who might have a need to contact someone on that list but doesn’t know how. Now they do.

Santa’s bringing him a refresher course on personal e-mail etiquette.

Oh, and by the way, Happy Holidays to you too. And thanks for the card.

After being on vacation for a mere three days, I knew there was a good reason not to go back to work today. Well, actually there are a lot of good reasons for not going back to work, but I just couldn’t convince the boss otherwise.

Anyway….

The big reason?

Spam!

Three lousy days off and I had to wade through 550 pieces of spam in my personal work account, and another 75 in our main office account. That’s pretty deep. I should have worn boots.

I would have deleted all of it, but there’s always a legitimate message in there somewhere. In this case, there were three.

I honestly don’t know how I got on these spammers’ lists because my Internet surfing habits at work are work-related. I don’t visit porn sites, so don’t send me spam about adding 5 feet to my girth. I don’t visit E-Bay, so don’t send me spam about all the great bargains you have. I don’t do drugs unless they’re prescribed by my doc, so enough with the Hoodia shit. No, I don’t want to cum like a porn star - whatever the hell that means. And no, I will not act as a broker in the strictest of confidence so you can get $20 million out of a Nigerian bank account.

So shove that back in your spambox.

Other than that, the day was just hunky dory, peachy keen and all that good crap.

Gee, it’s great to be back to work.

I guess it’s better than being in Iraq. We all know Georgie Boy’s gonna send more young men and women over there so they too can become target practice. Maybe he’s thinking about a certain goal - and that’s not to win the war. As of Dec. 20, we’ve lost 2,956 members of our military in this ill-conceived party for the oil barons. Anyone care to bet whether or not we can reach that unlucky 3,000 by the stroke of midnight Dec. 31? It’s a lofty goal indeed, but The Decider’s not losing any sleep over it. He said so himself. No problem sleeping at all, despite the many families who still cry themselves to sleep because their son or daughter or husband or wife won’t be coming home ever again.

Will it get better before it gets worse? Highly doubtful if you listen to the man at the top. He’s bracing us for another rough year in 2007. You see, he says, we’re not gonna cut and run like the Democrats would have us do. We’re gonna stay there until (1) the commanders on the ground tell us it’s safe to leave or (2) the Iraqis tell us to get the hell out of their country that we invaded, bombed to hell and can’t rebuild because every time we do somebody shoots at us.

Since it’s the holiday season, allow me to paraphrase Tiny Tim from “A Christmas Carol”:

God help us everyone.