Kenny Smith | blog | much like life

5.31.2007

And today I cleaned out the refrigerator. Slung things to and fro, blanched at the Best If Sold By dates on some of the condiments lurking in the back, nurturing, no doubt, their own cultures of multi-cellular organisms.

In one of the cabinets was a purchased, hidden and forgotten box of unopened cereal that might have prepared in the previous century. It is safe to say that I don't make it to the back of that cabinet often.

There's some hyperbole above. I'll leave it to you to find.

Talked with a neighbor today. There we stood, two guys in white t-shirts noticing the yard and talking tools. He was holding a daschund's lease, otherwise it would have been the proto-typical suburban scene. Maybe the daschund pushed it over the top. I don't know; trying to avoid thinking about daschunds as I do, I'm not sure where the socioeconomic qualities of that particular overgrown rat belongs when considering class standing.

That dog had a fine personality, and I love dogs, but this would be the least useful breed. I find poodles and beagles to have more redeeming value.

And I say this knowing that occasionally when I announce such a strong stance on something it ultimately becomes my reality. I could cite examples, but you can figure this out yourself: I say "No way I'd ever" and then two years later it is true. If anyone I ever know brings a daschund into my life I'll swat them both with a rolled up newspaper.

Pugs too.

I don't mean any of this, of course. Not really. I do prefer dogs that I have to pet to have an actual coat of hair. That shiny skin that the daschund is sporting is simply no fun to pet, that's all.

So all of the furniture is moved. The kitchen has been cleaned. I still have to straighten up the office and finish the library, but otherwise the Spring Cleaning Of Sorts of 2007 is finished.

Odds that I'll find new ways to say that sentence with various caveats over the next few weeks? Very high.

Watched Braveheart again tonight, which makes twice this month. Really that's too many violent amputations for one month when you come right down to it.

You also notice a lot more things in the movie, like loads of continuity errors. This movie won five Oscars and was nominated for several more, including Best Editing. I don't get into the Oscars, of course, since award shows are inherently facile and self-congratulatory, but I see that Apollo 13 won that award for 1996 and it is the better choice. The other nominees were Babe, Crimson Tide and Se7en. Off year for the Academy, no?

We musn't quibble with the movie too much, as the goofs page points out this was a "romantic fiction" and not a historical portrayal. So clearly things like the king dying as William Wallace was being executed are dismissed. There were a few years between separating those deaths. The French princess? She didn't even marry young Edward until after Longshanks was dead. Blue body paint was no longer en vogue, apparently kilts hadn't come along yet and the details of Wallace's demise are told differently here, but all of this is romantic fiction, so the moviemakers can get away with it.

So I overlook the continuity and the abandonment of history for a good narrative. The movie, after all, is based on a poem that was creative writing a century after the fact. I'll put aside the knowledge that what people see on a 50-foot screen they tend to believe as gospel, making inaccurate portrayals, even as part of a writer's truth, a dangerous weapon.

I'll choose to be bothered by the first big fight in the movie, the Battle of Stirling Bridge. First off: there's no bridge in the movie. Got in the way, Mel Gibson said. "Aye," the Scottish replied "that's what the English found."

You've taken away the key component to one of the key battles in Wallace's time on the field. In its place you have Gibson's Wallace telling the Scottish nobles to ride away and flank the English. Even in the 14th Century a flanking technique wasn't unusual, but in the movie this already basic technique creates a rout. What really happened at Stirling, historians say, is that conditions prevailed that allowed Scottish infantry to defeat English calvary. I'm no tactician, but I'm guessing that has to do with speed and the bottleneck created by the previously ommitted bridge.

Odds are also good that Wallace's real motivations had nothing to do with a woman, but this is Hollywood. If you're looking for biographical narratives, what is known and historically speculated about Wallace is far better than the movie. At Stirling the Scottish allegedly even skinned an English nobleman, and Wallace took enough to make himself a sword belt. Where's that in the movie?

The other thing that has always bothered me about the film is the chanting. First it is MacAulish, and then it is Wallace? Several forums, though nothing scholarly that I can find, indicate that MacAulish may be the loose equivalent of son-of-Wallace. Perhaps in the story we're to take that as a coming of age. Nothing like thrusting a deer's antler through another man's neck to mark your age of ascension I always say.

So, yeah, watching that twice in a month might be twice to many times.

I have two photographs to share with you. These will counterbalance the "eww!" from above with their own cuteness. There are kitty cats a-comin'! You've been warned.

First there's just the hanging aroundedness of this picture.

And then, since the lolcats have lately become all the rage, there's this. Yes, we're all ready for football.

# posted by Kenny

5.30.2007

Well the internet problem should be fixed now. The solution, on something like the fourth or fifth try, was to simply run another cable into the office through the existing location. Now the room is wired for a television and for high speed goodness. My recliner is also in there.

I may never leave.

Which means I should probably clean the room up a bit.

Also moved a big bookshelf upstairs from the basement into the new library. This involved moving some boxes out of the preferred route for the bookshelf, spilling some oil on the floor, sighing indignantly before cleaning that up and then beginning the move. But first everything on the bookshelf had to be boxed up, so there's some old pulp and hardbacks sitting neatly next to a few receipt books and some decorative bottles. Had to dust the thing, which was a considerable exercise seeing as how it'd been in the basement for a few years. Moved it upstairs, reset the shelves and walked it into the library. Where I left it for another day.

One day I'll have a real library. You'll walk into the room and instead of seeing shelves, or instead of seeing drywall, you'll see walls that are shelves. For now you would see mismatched shelves of various colors, styles and heights. It goes from walnut to cherry to blond, but it is a start.

This particular bookcase has been in the family pretty much my whole life. I recall watching my mother slide down a big set of stairs on the individual shelves when I was somewhere between two and four. I was terrified. And I was forced to slide down the steps too, making me even more terrified.

The memory makes me smile. I've always known that this was that bookshelf, but in pulling it upstairs by myself this evening I realized how fragile it really is. Not a big piece of furniture, it was probably cheap even in its day. The backing is wood paneling.

I can't imagine sliding down steps on these shelves. It must have been a slow ride, but in my mind's eye, the memory of it moves something like a roller coaster. Maybe I was risk adverse as a child, but I still can't see taking that ride. Those steps were in an apartment and on one side was the wall and the other a combination of wall and handrail. The handrail was probably wooden, and it would have probably hurt. Of course to a child at that age who saw this as a fast, bumpy ride on a big piece of sturdy furniture there were approximately 632 stairs, but the actual event could be easily created in my basement, today.

If I fell here I would just fall to the floor. The handrails are simply two pieces of wood attached at the top and bottom. The cement floor beneath it would make for asatisfying cold, solid smack. The shelves doesn't look that sturdy to older eyes; besides, I can't really imagine fitting on the things.

So I'll not be sliding. But that story of silly adventure always makes me smile.

I will be watching the last two episodes of Enterprise for the week. Here I learned far more about Vulcan sub-culture than I could have asked for. These types of episodes never did that much for me. These shows were supposed to be about humanity, our humanity. Details on the Vulcans and the Klingons and the like are important for their use as foils, but anytime enough familiarity is bred into a character you have to be careful what you show.

It is tricky, really, because we all know that any other planet with life and civilization would have complex societal dynamics, just as ours does. Showing them in a uniform way in a television program becomes insulting after a while, but spreading out the characters to create a body politick, a protaganist and antagonist can be incredibly difficult. Here we are to explore our own imagined narrative and we're given someone else's story which always reverts to us out of design, accident or metaphor.

They even nod to that here, in how the societies parallel with regard to their different pasts, but even here the two races' differences are cultivated through their sameness. Not so alien after all, are we? Oh, but we will be, because that's where conflict comes from. But we won't be, because we're allies. And that will cause tension and the audience will like it.

He said without irony, putting away his fake sociology degree.

One day I'll be forced to sit down and figure out what it is that I like about the Star Trek franchise. What I liked about it as a child is easy enough, but what has made it endure? I find myself being critical here of something I like and actually enjoy more often than not. And I do enjoy it, don't get me wrong. It would seem there is a disconnect, or a rip in the cosmos or something. Nothing a good burst of tachyons can't fix. But it should make for an interesting discussion, what is still enjoyable here? The next time I complain about needing something to write about, remind me of this. You know who you are.

Not you. You.

The Gloms are back. Here we're examining the yearbooks that would have belonged to my grandparents in their freshman year had they attended Auburn. A few weeks ago I finished the 1952, my grandmother's book, just in time for the project to go on a hiatus for the Spring Cleaning Of Sorts Project of 2007. Now the Glomerata project begins anew with the 1953 book, which would have been my grandfather's. Start here and surf on through. Eleven quick pictures to get you started. I'm proud to say there will be more next week, as I've missed this project.

For the past half year or so I've been collecting Gloms, I have about a third of the complete set, but they are mostly for my bookshelves and not for uploading. I'm going to ultimately finish that project with the freshmen books for my grandparents and my mother -- had they all attended Auburn -- and hold them up next to my freshman book. Through all of this we'll learned just how much can change over a half century in a place that measures generations in four and five year increments.

So the newspapers and the Gloms return all in one week. And remember: there are still a few other projects in the queue as well. Your dot org cup runneth over. Thanks for stopping by. We'll do it again tomorrow.

# posted by Kenny

5.29.2007

Smokey again. At least you can't smell it today. You're nose and lungs will be caught unaware, then, of the good old carcinogens being absorbed by the simple act of being outside.

I'm not the guy that obsesses over germs and microbes, but this sort of thing could turn you into that guy. There was one simple rule, really: If I can smell the air, it is probably bad for me in some way. Corollary: If I can see the air, same diff.

Birmingham is a bowl, and rain and wind are currenly a no, so geography and meteorology are keeping this stuff with us. Somewhere in the early afternoon a lot of the haze and smoke blow away. It has been suggested that we all take our fans and point them to the southeast, telling Georgia and Florida what we think of their wildfires. If it would make a difference I would climb on the roof with an arm full of extension cords tomorrow. And I don't mean to sound ungrateful -- we didn't ask for the smoke, thanks -- but I can smell and see it from 200-plus miles away and you can see it from space. Must be real bad in Georgia and the Florida panhandle.

Futzed around with the internet and connectivity issues. We've eliminated cable and splitter from the list of potential problems. Knocked out a big mound of laundry and (in an effort to actually be productive) prepped more for tomorrow. Caught two episodes of Enterprise, which neatly wrapped up the Augments, the Eugenic Wars and gave us foreboding music as the ably excellent Brent Spiner decided maybe androids, rather than humanity, is where its at. The ominous music makes no sense since Spiner's character's son is the father of the charming hero Data, who was ably played by the always excellent Brent Spiner. Besides, we see all sorts of other races in the original series with ominous androids and they were almost always made to look comical in the end. But, if you have that symphonic group in the studio you better make them work. Strings! Give us something scary!

So there should be four more weeks before the SciFi channel has completed their sweep of the series. The next two weeks look to be fairly easily forgettable plots. Toward the end it picks up a bit, but it will all be melancholy, considering the demise of the show. On the other hand, that'll be four hours of the week I'll get back. Until something else comes on that I simple must see. But all that is way ahead of myself, there are still two more hours to watch tomorrow.

But that is tomorrow and tonight is Denny Crane.

I missed a segment, but basically what I missed was Jerry "Hands" Espenson who I'm already tired of, again, picking up a case against a casino that would make even the most litigious states blush. That would get settled out of court. I also missed seeing Brad and Denise presenting their child, but I don't really care about that storyline just now. If the writers can't find compelling things for interesting characters they'll just keep withering in transition scenes.

Basically I care about Alan Shore and Denny Crane at this point. They could make me care about others, but there's just not a lot of story for them. Meanwhile Alan and Denny are representing two kids charged with shooting their father. It starts off suddenly and solemnly. Apparently they're going to be convicted and even Super Flamingo Attorneys can't solve the problem. Not even with the help of a mother willing to commit perjury while casting blame on herself so that her children may go free. Desperate times call for television hocus pocus and all that, so the two brothers turn on one another, rolling over for the judge and the jury in open court.

Or do they? Apparently Denny and Alan are in on the whole thing. The prosecutor is wise to it, summing the whole thing up as parlor games in an attempt to reach reasonable doubt and, therefore, a not guilty plea. I'd have loved to sit on this jury, just so we could go to conference and I could say, "Look, did you see how the two young kids just calmly sat next to one another after they'd each pointed the finger at the other? Don't you think if your sib did that to you there'd be a fight over the defendant's table? Guilty, your honor."

But, being a television show, being Alan and Denny -- who was rightly and passionately concerned that his career-long undefeated streak would end in this case -- and being the season finale, they won and both young men were freed. Ho-hum.

What will they do next season? Even the characters don't know, as they sit on the balcony for their epilogue, but Denny's just getting started, and the audience is getting the finish with a nice shot of a scotch and a cigar. See you next season!

Season three had a few bright spots, but I doubt I'll be telling you about adding it to the DVD collection any time soon.

On the site things are getting back to normal, despite a few connection problems. The newspapers make their return today. If you're new to all this, we're taking a quick look at some of the more historic front pages of The Birmingham News from a little book they published a quarter of a century ago. With tonight's installments we're squarely into the mid-1920s. You can read more on the details and start from the beginning here. Or, if you've been following along and eagerly awaiting the return of this feature, you may pick up where we left off here.

Thanks for stopping by today. As always, I appreciate your visit. Make sure to come back tomorrow as the Glomerata feature is also due to make a triumphant return as we begin our examination of 1953 Auburn.

# posted by Kenny

5.28.2007

What a day, what a Memorial Day. Normally I spend this day doing what Americans do best: camped in front of the television where I watch war movies until the sun goes down. In truth, this is one of those days that seems more important the older you get, the importance as a holiday grows as you do, to the point that it becomes hard to commemorate in a way that is reciprocal to what gave you this day and all these many blessings. Magnitude can be near-paralyzing.

Today I worked for a while and played for a while and never really noticed the television.

So there was work, and that was the usual amount of fun. Initially I had Memorial Day off, but swapped it with last Friday so that I could get things done before the true weekend began. That turned out to be a very wise choice and simplified the Friday and Saturday o' Physical Labor mightily. So this morning I was at the office, bright and early, for a few minutes at least the only person in the building. By the afternoon when it was time to go home there'd probably only been four people here all day. Usually it is a mid-day struggle to find parking.

Holidays are easy, in a way. There's not a lot going on. They are frequently slow and occasionally lazy. Even the bad guys take the holiday weekend off. That or we just don't feel the need to cover them as much. I'm never sure which. But today was one of those slow days. It did, however, involve typing. A lot of typing.

At home there was a little bit of housework and then company. Brian, Elizabeth and Taylor came over for a barbeque. We made hamburgers and hot dogs and had all the various accessories of a summer holiday: beans, potato salad, fruit, cookies and more.

Brian and I set about fixing the cable upstairs. And by "Brian and I" I of course mean Brian. Seems that I'd outsmarted myself on the upstairs rooms, he fixed it in about 20 minutes. One splitter too many and about 14 cables too many. As always, he was impressed with the unhandy work, laughed and solved the problem. We then got the internet back up and running. Pretty simple, really, once the cable was back in place, though it is being spotty for some reason. I can be online once again at home. My lovely, precious internet. How I've missed you for the past 24 or so hours.

Taylor kept us all amused with zany four-year-old antics. She's a great kid, full of fun and laughter and very outgoing, but she hit her wall at the end of the evening. While I'm a frequent visitor to that wall -- and why must we hit it so? -- she's a good reminder of why I'm not in a hurry to have a four-year-old.

She also called me "Grandpa" a lot. The first two, I think, were accidents. After that she was just doing it on purpose. I haven't noticed the resemblance between the three of us, especially considering they have a few decades on me. They're nice men and you could be in worse company, so I choose to take her slip up as a compliment rather than a statement about my age.

After the gang left, there was furious internet activity, Email to compose, pages to read, pictures to upload, there was a lot to catch up on. Started watching the evening's four-episode dose of Enterprise, but couldn't make it through. Tomorrow then.

Tonight a few notes. Don't think I mentioned this, but I recently did a podcast with Jeane Goforth who does an "off the beaten path" travel blog. Good stuff on her blog, and a few more suggestions in the podcast for places you can go on the cheap. If that's your sort of thing, this is the podcast for you. Hadn't previously read Jean, but going into her archives it is clear that we'd visit the same types of places. Elsewhere, I won the 'Top Gun' award on OTB's caption contest. And, finally, the newspapers are coming back tomorrow!

# posted by Kenny

5.27.2007

Today, the return of the deli sandwich lunch and the longest baseball game ever. Ever.

This was the SEC championship game. Auburn wasn't invited, Alabama was eliminated early and the final game matched the top two seeds, Vanderbilt and Arkansas. Vandy, it should also be noted, is the top-ranked team in the nation. They're good.

And they'll kill you with singles and doubles, hitting rockets down the line until you shift and then they just poke balls through the middle.

Didn't help that Arkansas was over-thinking the game, coaching every little thing from the bench. That only added six hours to the game.

There's not much sarcasm there. Vanderbilt scored four in the first, led early by Dominic de la Osa, who doubled and scored. and Arkansas put one on the board. We were on pace for a nine hour ball game.

Arkansas' starting pitcher gave up four runs on five hits in only an inning of work, which brought on Chris Rhoads who, despite looking all of 12 years old from the stands, is a senior. He kept Arkansas in the game, despite a struggling defense behind him.

Shea Robin, Vandy's catcher, got beaned by this ball in the third, but that didn't hurt the Hogs. In the fourth David Macias was called out on this play, but the photograph shows where the umpire missed this one. Third baseman Logan Forsythe was clearly pulled off the bag. Had the play been called correctly, Macias would have scored on one of two passed balls.

Rhoads was pulled in the seventh. Clearly dejected, he should have walked off the mound with pride. It was a 4-1 game and the Commodores were threatening to bust the thing wide open when he came on, but it was only 5-3 when he left. One more run in the seventh would go to him, but he had a solid outing in long relief against the best team in the country.

Vandy pretty much sealed the deal in the 8th, when pinch runner Matt Willard was thrown out by the left fielder to end the eighth. The Razorbacks would not threaten again, as Vanderbilt won 7-4 in a game that ran over three-and-a-half hours.

And for that we were all glad that the game started at 3 p.m. rather than noon, because baking in the sun for the duration of the game would have been unpleasant. As it was, the sun was behind the stadium before the third inning.

Later, there was an uneventful trip for Mexican, rearranging the furniture in the new office and getting ready for work on Memorial Day, tomorrow. I had a three day weekend and it has wrapped up nicely. It's always a good weekend when you can make it to the park. Hope you're having as much fun on your weekend as I am.

# posted by Kenny

5.26.2007

It was not like this, but today should have been.

That is all.

# posted by Kenny

5.25.2007

Ended up taking today off. I volunteered for Memorial Day, so this is my comp. Instead of a six day week this week I'll have two confused but normal five day weeks in a row. It'll all work out in the end, the time sheets will be out of whack, but otherwise the schedules have played out just fine, thank you.

So, on my day off I got up near the normal time. By 6 a.m. I was already hard at work. Cleaned out one half of the basement and prepared a big load of things to go to a donation drop off. On the upside, there's only one room left to clean. Also on that upside: that room is waiting a while.

Basically exhausted myself before 9 a.m., with a lot more of the day to make it through.

Other things we learned today: those big tractor-trailers that you sometimes see in retail parking lots? The Hannah Home guy said it'd take a week or two for him to collect enough donations to fill it up. I gave him a sofa and about 13 bags of clothes and mismatched household items. The trucks that drive through your neighborhood accepting donations? They get stopped by people not on their list for the day all the time. Did that today, too. They say they'll fill their truck up in a day -- it is much smaller, of course -- and if they do they'll just pick up a new truck and start again.

While I was talking to him two other people in that neighborhood came up with spontaneous donations.

Pie Day, then, the last with our friend Gary. We finally got the man to hint at a few stories of his own, so we have no further use of him. Not really. Brian got to meet him, Gary brought his drink of choice without having to take his order -- psychic waiter! -- and then he feed us all very well. Our friend Christy came up to join us for pie. She should come by more often. Lots of fun.

And that's about as fun as today was: hot, sweaty, moving things and then pie. But it is over. A productive and not-lazy-at-all way to spend an off day.

# posted by Kenny

5.24.2007

One room is done. The desk has been moved, the furniture dusted, the bookshelf evacuated, the comfortably overstuff chair placed just so. The clutter is removed and the room is done. The door is closed.

Of course I'll have to reopen the door to go in later to clean out the closet, but for now I'm going to hide behind the thinnest of technicalities and suggest that the closet is another room altogether. I could use a win just now.

Another room is almost done. The clutter is all boxed up. My computer is still in the old room and needs to be moved to the new room, but that will be this weekend or next week. One closet is cleaned out, with three to go. A bunch of clothes are ready to be donated. When the basement is slightly more organized -- tomorrow's project -- the boxes of things will go down there for temporary storage. This has turned into logisitical maneuvers that would be recognizable to anyone who's ever dealt with military and/or bureaucracy.

Minus the closets, however, I'm through upstairs. The downstairs is as done as it can be for now. I moved that bookshelf, things went well until the third step when gravity remembered to be irrefutable. So I reshaped some boxes for book storage. This bookshelf has been reassigned to Glomerata duty. Its a handsome brown bookshelf of the Quaker style that looks nice and rich and old, so the Gloms fit. And they just barely fit. On the other hand, they take up all the space. New Gloms will be homeless until I figure out a solution.

I'm warming up to the library idea and am afraid you're going to hear a lot about that as it grows, but that's going to be a fun project.

Which leaves the basement, the arch-nemesis.

Shouldn't be that bad. If I don't procrastinate too much. Did some of that today: had the traditional chicken sandwich meal at Zaxby's with my friend the Smithsonian Magazine. After that a visit to Wal-Mart, as stimulating as ever, for some household staples. After that the UEFA Cup replay on ESPN, Milan wins. That second goal was beautiful.

After that, more cleaning. I'm ready for more fun projects. The website has been neglected, but that should come to an end starting next week. Which is good; the storytelling around here has suffered because of all of this. Spring Cleaning Of Sorts '07, though, is winding down.

But I am not. Wide awake. Yesterday's nap and today's caffeine seem to be conspiring against me. I must at least take a stab at getting some sleep at some point though.

Site note: Like the new background? That's the World Financial Center in Manhattan last fall on a very cold morning from the Hudson River. We were on the cruise to see the Statue of Liberty. She was an amazing sight -- yet another one of those things I'd just never really imagined myself getting that physically close to it -- the whole trip down the Hudson was worth it, there were great views and shots at every turn.

Which opens the door to revisit a lot of old photographs in background form. Feel the excitement!

# posted by Kenny

5.22.2007

Old timers will tell you about a time when you couldn't see the skyline here. When the blue of the sky was actually the brown of industrial progress. Before the government came, tightened up on air quality and when the life expectancy was a bit lower because of the stuff you were, you know, breathing. This was an industrial city that has given way to a center of health industry, biotech and white collar endeavors.

This afternoon, though, looked about as bad as I can recall.

There was a fire just off the interstate in one of the little towns that I must drive through to make it home from work. We climbed on the roof to see if we could see the smoke, but instead we saw a world of white. The smoke from the fire, which was being broadcasted live and commented on by the local talking heads couldn't be seen because of this other smoke that was just everywhere. An incredible haze hangs over everything.

On top of our building, though, I found a great old ghost sign. That's of our building, the name which they've retained -- all of the buildings down here in historic Pepper Place have retained their old names. The brief history: Edgar Martin began a cracker company at the turn of the 20th Century and soon moved to this location. Through its many owners the company made biscuits, cookies, crackers and candy before closing in the 1940s. It became a warehouse for a drug company, which added our part of the building in 1958.

For that photo I'm standing on the "new" annex and looking at the back wall of the old building. No one except roof workers and air conditioning men have seen that sign for almost 50 years.

See the white sky in the background? Smoke.

When I drove by the location of this local fire -- a used auto parts place with a huge pile of tires in the back waiting to burn -- I couldn't see the black smoke of that fire because of this other stuff. Whatever's causing this smoke -- possibly the wildfires in Georgia -- will stick around. Birmingham sits in a geographical bowl, and nothing moves out easily without a storm front or some wind and things are just deathly still right now.

So the next unearthly experience shouldn't have been so surprising.

I met a street corner, parking lot evangelist who might have been a little crazed by the haze or the heat or his ideas. He was talking about dogs and t-shirts and the weight of the world and practicing the art of prayer. He wanted you to know that, if you do it today and everyday, it is easier than just picking it up in some desperate moment when you felt you needed to talk to the Almighty. Practice makes perfect when it is just like riding a bicycle. The whole thing was very dreamlike, and you got the impression that if you stayed around for much more conversation you'd be dizzied by it all.

And I would have stayed, too, because I'm curious like that, but I've already been on the roof of the building and the smoke is a little off-putting. Anything that can stay this coherent and ominous after floating 250 miles west deserves some respect and healthy distance.

And that's pretty much it for the day. There was the usual; a little television, a little nap, a little housework and the neglect of fun projects. There's also a light at the end of the tunnel. In keeping with the theme of this paragraph, however, it is little.

But it is growing.

# posted by Kenny

5.21.2007

Another beautiful day at the time of year when it becomes pablum to even mention it. Spring and summer are here simultaneously, as they often appear. In a few days they'll merge seamlessly, spring will retire, having down its share of work for the year and the sun will begin its task of zealously boring holes into exposed skin. Around Memorial Day the forecast calls for the upper 80s, so it won't be long now.

Sorta makes you long for autumn already, doesn't it?

Easy day today. Mondays are always easy. We were talking this morning about Monday being the day of the week when your alarm was loudest, when you cursed it most. That was Sunday for me this week. Waking up at 4 a.m. on the weekend seems pretty abhorrent. You should at least still be in bed when the sun comes up, that's my rule of thumb. But there I was, groggy and moving. So following that with today wasn't so bad. This is my Tuesday, two of six in a row. We'll adjust, adapt, overcome. Oorah.

Stopped by the package store for boxes. The nice lady there seemed stunned I didn't want any of her fine products, but rather just their means of storage during conveyance. I'll soon be doing a little storage myself, you see. Chose the collapsed boxes, thinking I could tape them up and that way grab more boxes today. On the way home it seemed a good to pick up the actual tape that would be useful to that end. What followed was a 40 minute odyssey into Wal-Mart which I could describe, but I've found that every trip into Wal-Mart is described in pretty much the same way. But if Homer (the poet, not the cartoon character) had a Wal-Mart at his disposal, oh the epic poetry he could recite then.

So tape and a few food items later I'm on my way home. Where I find that I must once again rest my aching foot. Considering where the pain is and how it flares up I'm going to call it turf toe. Remember kids: never self-diagnose.

Took a brief 33 minute nap. The assignment of time there is arbitrary, but it felt brief and I was both tired and yet strangely refreshed when I rolled off the sofa.

Took the last of the big heavy pieces and put it in its temporary storage today. Yesterday it made it from the upstairs onto the common floor. And I let it sit there overnight, having thought better of moving it down the larger flight of stairs. The short flight was time-consuming enough, having chosen to walk it down each individual step. There were a few more concerns about the longer flight of stairs and repeating that same process didn't seem safe with regard to Proper Furniture Control.

OSHA's cracking down on that, as I'm sure you've heard.

So this afternoon I found myself tipping the piece on its side and sliding it down that long set of stairs. It truly went fast, but controlled. I was at the bottom of the stairs, with only three more steps to negotiate in the traditional walking method, before I really even realized what I was doing. Naps tend to have more lingering cobwebs than a full night of sleep for me, and so we'll blame the nap.

Turns out the solution my sleeping mind came up with was incredibly effective and efficient. The last big hulking piece -- we'll call it an oversized chest -- is now in its assigned storage area and without any damage to the piece, the house or the mover.

I can't believe I moved that thing by myself.

While dinner cooked -- a cajun rice and italian sausage thing I just invented on the fly -- I vaccuumed, pronouncing two thirds of one floor now officially complete in the Spring Cleaning Of Sorts '07 campaign. Tomorrow I'll put together those boxes and -- hopefully quickly -- wrap up two more rooms.

But now it is time for dinner -- which I decided would probably be a mistake, but turned out surprisingly yummy -- and the conclusion of the most occasionally exciting soap opera on Fox. I began worrying that the etouffee would overpower and ruin the Italian sausage I'd thrown in the sauce pan, but like Jake Bauer, the etouffee only did the minimal to impress me this time around.

Two hours of Bauer, then. And I'm vacillating between "Dear God let it stop," and "Come on Jack do something cool now" because I've given up on "Two hours! This will rule!"

Turns out I was smart to give up on that. And the let it stop seems pretty appropriate. We've been discussing this, my fellow 24 watchers and I, and it basically comes down to this: you blew up a city in a nuclear way and made a sappy touchy family story the second half of your show. To start the day Jack emerged from a Chinese prison, got the best shave of his life and then bit a man's neck off. Later he would engage in a terrific fight scene to kill the ultimate terrorist of the season.

Only to find out that the Chinese are back, the Russians want to attack America over their own security problems and Jack's dad is a mean, mean man in the Disneyian sense.

Also, lately, I'm pretty sure this turned into Dynasty with the occasional weapon being brandished. There's been no torture, no neck biting or drugging of bad guys. We're out for vengenance after that nuclear bomb went off. Jack and the people in his world are out to cultivate scenes with sappy string music.

Chloe Morris looks thin and pale, doesn't feel good and passes out. I'm calling it pregnancy. Jack lingered just a little too long in the room with her earlier in the day.

Meanwhile there's yet another sub-sub-sub plot with a tertiary character that no one cares about. The whole place is like Dynasty, now, Chloe is pregnant, Jack is remorseful, but not about killing his father. "I felt nothing!" In order to protect her he's *sniff* leaving his girlfriend. Because, in the end, as the former SecDef, and his girlfriend's father said, "Everything you touch dies." Or something like that. Clearly that guy is in Jack's head. And now Jack is standing on a cliff and there's water below and ... and ... tick ... tock ... tick ... tock.

The creative team of the show has been feeling the pressure. They know the numbers are off and the audience is dissatisfied. They've said that changes are coming and said that the finale, tonight, would drastically change the direction of the show. This wasn't a cliffhanger, but rather a nice tidy little ending with little bows on top. The only uncertainty is what Jack does on that cliff and you know he's not jumping. That'd make the next 23 hours of the new season a little awkward. Possibly they've just spent the past 24 minutes developing closure and effectively writing off the supporting cast. If that's their strategy it could be both good and challenging for the next season. Some of these characters are rather tedious, but on the other hand, new characters won't carry the same import for many fans.

Where they go from here is anyone's guess. I'm just hoping for Ricky Schroder's spinoff. And I'm not the only one. He's clearly got what it takes to stand around and look simultaneously brooding and scared for an hour a week. However, as he told Jack tonight "It blew." In so many ways, Spoons, in so many ways.

Hardly the ending I wanted, though that final off-the-medication confrontation looked like the Jack that the internet writes songs about. Jack no doubt shot a couple dozen guys through the course of his day in the classic Bond sense, but after the biting the throat out of one guy in the morning and the hanging by chain in the early afternoon it has been rather unremarkable.

I just wrote a sentence that implied Vampire-Jack and Hangman-Jack is not enough. We are a bloodthirsty lot when it comes to this show, aren't we? Not that you'd want to try and bite out the neck of a man who was torturing you. You'd better hope it works, or now you've just ticked him off. Or he may just lean back, laugh and gurgle, "Ha. Joke's on you. I have many blood-borne diseases." Talk about ruining your afternoon.

But ultimately this show's audience wants more. The killing off 12,000 innocents in the early going tends to do that. Taking it the family-route for the last quarter of the day doesn't really satisfy.

Four episodes of Enterprise after that. No, I'll not go on about the details. Thanks to the TiVo I made it through four hours of programming in three, once again displaying why it is so EvIl.

These are the first four episodes of the fourth and final season. The first two are an alternate timeline in the past and while I usually enjoy those for the camp and the historical treatment I have a hard time getting into these because it is too Harry Turtledove. The Nazis are in New England, you see, and aided by some devilish aliens from the 29th Century. All this happened because, in this timeline, someone killed Lenin and Russia never went communist. I'd like to offer you an actual hook on which to hang this show, but I'm too busy laughing at how this is the lazy explanation for the situation.

Naturally the overwhelmed, outgunned and out of time and place 22rd Century humans easily defeat them. This is convenient Trek cannon at its finest and most frustrating. In the next episode there is a lot of talking. Seriously. Scott Bakula's character has a dream and that's the most action you get. After that there's a little shouting, but that's kept to a minimum. And in the fourth episode the writers called Brent Spiner and asked him if he could bring some of those Baked Lays and ratings when he came over to play Arik Soong, the grandfather of a character that created the android character, Data, that made Brent Spiner famous. So the guy that played the android is now playing his biological great-grandfather. That's good television, proving once again that this series got the short end of the stick.

He'll also be back for two more episodes next week. Hopefully they'll be good as well.

# posted by Kenny

5.20.2007

Question: Who's approval ratings are lower than the president's?

Answer: Congress!

And after all of the blowback from last week's immigration bill that'll continue on both sides.

People are miffed by the process and the proposed solution. I won't get into the details here because you can read all about the Z visa and the go back clause and fines elsewhere. But that's going to look soft.

There's a reason voters in Hazelton, Pennsylvania gave mayor Lou Barletta the primary nomination for both parties. The mayor, a Republican, got a law passed that will penalize landlords who rent to illegal immigrants and businesses that hire them. That's the sort of thing a lot of people want to see. People want change and the initial reaction about this legislation from Washington isn't what they were looking for. Too soft, they would say.

Now. Is it soft? There's a big difference in what you'd like to do and what you can realistically do (both politically and logistically). The current proposal isn't great, far from it, but there are limits in our present reality. Perhaps enforcing laws presently on the books would be a good place to start, but that's been ignored for years. Meanwhile one half of your political class is seeking cheap labor and the other half would like easy votes. This amnesty bill is what they came up with. Compromise, as they say, is the name of the game.

Doesn't mean you'll be happy about it. That's the part I'm interested in observing. What will come of the public and voter disenchantment? Some of those answers will come soon, but some will be threaded into our society and culture over time. We'll find out together over the next decade or so, I suppose.

Work today, so an early morning this morning. I passed a red glowing sign that announced it was 37 degrees. Consulting the date at the top of this post I can confirm that it is, in fact, mid-May. I assure you that temperature was valid for Alabama. Meanwhile the global warming guys are struggling today to come up with another new name for their raison d'etre.

Today, though, has turned out beautiful, despite the chilly start. A big spread of blue skies, there hasn't been a cloud in a few days -- and while a significant amount of rain would be nice -- the weather's been of the stunning wish you were here postcard variety. So naturally I'm stuck inside.

First there was work, and then there was a nap and finally there was cleaning.

All evening the two sides of my brain have been at odds: it is an off day, but I worked. I have the day off, but I must return to work tomorrow and it will be the second of six days in a row.

And these are the things around which my troubles revolve. That and moving stuff. I'm redesigning three rooms, there has been a great deal of moving furniture around, but I'm coming to the end of that phase of the project now. There's only two more pieces in the house to be moved, and one more piece from those three rooms to be stored. Doing this as a solo project, as has been previously noted, takes a lot of time, grunting and sometimes despair.

It also resembles those annoying plastic tile challenge games from your youth. You remember the little sliding tile game with eight pieces and you had to move them around the square to make the correct picture? Well spatial dynamics wasn't my strongest point then and that skill is still a bit limited, but somehow I've managed to do this much and without hurting myself too bad. I did put a small ding in one wall though. Hardly noticeable unless I pointed it out to you.

So tonight a bed got moved. More accurately a bed frame. I've been instructed to keep the mattresses and defend them as if they were of historical importance. I have to keep all these things, but I'm at a loss where to put the mattresses just now. Elsewhere a big furniture piece made it halfway to its destination tonight, but I chickened out on the final flight of stairs. Discretion is the better part of valor, there's always tomorrow and so on.

In tonight's victory lap, however, I moved my recliner into the new office. When it was finally installed a quality assurance check felt appropriate, so I sat under my newly installed ceiling fan and, yes, they both work nicely, thank you.

And now, after the impromptu workout and the blissfully sinful nap I'm wide awake again. This'll no doubt make for a long night and a longer tomorrow.

But the heavy lifting is primarily done. Tomorrow I'll stop by a few stores and get some boxes for random storage purposes. A few more obvious things will be donated soon, but otherwise I'll try the storage box technique where you put things away somewhere and if you don't use them by such-and-such a time you move them on to their great reward with another happy owner.

Tune in this week while I race to get some of this box (and then yard) work done so I can actually enjoy the upcoming Memorial Day weekend. Don't hold me to it, but I'm fantasizing about baseball and a grill.

# posted by Kenny

5.19.2007

Had brunch at Meehan's again, but this time for probably the last time. Any morning anywhere could be a last experience of something; better take it all in while you can.

That isn't meant to sound fatalistic, or as if I'm dissatisfied with the service; it simply likely that I won't be in this area for brunch again any time soon.

Another beautiful late morning sun, another fine day to sit out under the clouds and the shade of ivy growing across the porch. It might be my last visit here, but it wasn't a melancholy experience, for reasons purely its own. I was torn, in my last known meal somewhere should I get the omelette that I've enjoyed here before, or should I enjoy the traditional sun-dried tomato turkey burger?

After who knows how many visits to the place they finally mustered up someone willing to work the table. And he did so in the sort of way that in other conversations you'd assume he's hinting at some tip your overlooking. But I was full of omelette and potato and bangers and tea. I was full of tea. Clearly it was time for the check.

It was delicious tea, though.

But the whole transaction just went on too long. It did allow us to see two dogs welcomed into the restaurant, more yuppie children than you can shake a stick at and guys dining with Guinness before noon. This, I think, is what Saturday mornings are made for.

After brunch, and the long lingering time while the waiter stalled while technicians flew in to repair the receipt printer, it was almost time for dinner. Or a nap. That sounded more reasonable, so nap it was. Saturdays, I think, were also made for these.

Never really shook off that nap, though. Ended up by a pool reading while two groups of separately loud people decided to join forces and run off the two sections of the pool guarded by quiet people. The quiet ones on the other side left, the two loud groups, full of largesse and sun burned skin, bragged on this and that and their mortgages and their friends condos and talked to one another while playing two different stereos. They were an odd group, five and sometimes six guys and one girl. Some of the gentlemen should have left their shirts on for asethetic reasons, one or two of the others are probably regretting their clothing decision by now. The shade chased them together and would ultimately chase them away altogether. After that it seemed important to sit for a few minutes and just read in the quiet.

These were also the guys desperately trying to fit in with the tribal arm band tatoo and the various stages of facial hair. Normally I wouldn't come to such conclusions, but as I said, I was still working on my nap and these guys were loud. Oh, and Mr. Portly Man, if it wasn't funny, interesting or evocative the first time you said it then odds weren't so good for the next four times you tried. I would spend the next three hours repeating words Mr. Portly Man said. Not because it was interesting or funny, but rather because it was circling in my head, much like a catchy song lyric.

After that The Yankee and I had dinner at a place called My Cousin Vinny's. We were sat next to a nice couple and I couldn't tell which of them worked at the local college, but odds were that at least one of them was. That's not implied in a mean way, but seven years of postsecondary education allows you to spot the professors from a distance.

We were holding forth on a very sarcastic conversation on Italian food that probably made look like a jerk in the neoclassic sense. I rhapsodized on the lasagna, why you'd never go to a high end restaurant or to somewhere in Italy, let's say, and order the lasagna for a variety of reasons, the least of which being that it is a fairly basic, but delicious, dish.

And then I ordered the lasagna.

The waiter asked for my salad dressing preference and I indicated that I'd take the house, a rather delightful sounding raspberry vinagerette. The Yankee said I probably wouldn't like that, and so the waiter and the nice professorial couple now hear me being told what I'd like to eat for dinner. She was right. I generally try the house if it is something exotic sounding, and raspberry vinagerette sounded the part. Only I don't like vinagerette to begin with, so now everyone in the kitchen is laughing at me being told what to eat.

We struck up a conversation with the professors, over cameras. They were both very nice and knew their shutterbuggery. He wore his gray curls in a little pompadourish afro, which distracted from his nice shirt, tennis shoes look he was aiming at. I pegged him to be a sociologist, or an art professor. The hair made you think of Bob Ross. His wife was very emphatic. The food was exactly what they wanted. It was a great camera and so on. Were it not for that I would have guessed her to be an english professor. English 101 and Beginning Composition, no doubt. Now, though, I'm not so sure.

The Italian dressing ended up being both topical and delicious, thank you very much. The lasagna was nice, as well.

Afterward, cookies! (It will not be the last time for those.)

# posted by Kenny

5.18.2007

Met some nice new people today. I limped around -- thanks foot -- but it is getting better, and in the process met Doug Gillett. Nice guy, very funny. Utterly shocked that I felt the need to tell him I read his blog. We've Emailed maybe twice, but this face to face thing was just too much for the guy. It just fell out of my mouth, when I heard his name.

Is that right, why I read your blog. Congratulations old chum on a fine electronic effort.

That's how I'm going to remember it anyway.

Later in the day I realized the funnier thing to do would have been to say nothing and then, as I prepared to leave, just kept saying Hey Jenny Slater. Hey Jenny Slater. Hey Jenny Slater, much like Jeremy Piven. It would have been a nice touch. As always, I'm more brilliant eight hours removed from something than in the actual moment.

Spent a few of those moments this afternoon outside in the idle evening sun taking photographs. I'll share one with you.

I found some nice ivy in the sun and shadows, but by the time I could make my way there the moment was gone. In its place, however, was a ladybug sunning.

Can exoskeletons get sunburns? She looked pretty orange to me.

Tonight at Pie Day two more people were intiated. They were friends of The Yankee's and couldn't stop commenting on how the place smelled so good. Between tonights group we managed to have each item represented on the menu, I think. And had a nice chat about band-aids and cancer. Enjoy your pie! The woman was a nurse, if I'm not mistaken, and they're never shy about telling good stories. Time and place, though, time and place.

Nice people. They seemed to enjoy their pie and that makes a total of 22 people (if my count is accurate) that have been brought into the seedy subculture of Pie Day. Speaking fo seeds, there was one in the slice of lemon tonight. And while feeling satisfied with that level of authenticity, I could rest comfortably through the rest of the weekend, abbreviated though it will be.

This evening, I'm reading about Kelly's review of the chocolates I gave her for her graduation. She loves Godiva, you see, but has no store in the bustling metropolis that is Huntsville. Suits me fine, her interdependence grows with every golden box I deliver.

So she's reviewing these chocolates each day, and I must say that the chocolate is bringing out the wordsmith in here. There's even a really, really atrociously good Shatner reference in today's review, but beyond that the chocolate tales are worth the read. You're hooked right from the first review, where she details something called Cinnamon Blush:

Wow.*ggggg- lllllllllllllllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh* Don't worry, that was the sound of my face melting onto the desk in sheer joy.

Kelly will also point you to a news story about a former classmate of hers who's recovering from perhaps the most ridiculous of surgeries, wherein doctors had to give her six organ transplants. For a couple of years now the friend has been dealing with this and has recently returned home from Miami where some of the procedures were done, prompting the local NBC affiliate to trot out their reporter.

The text and the video there are the same, but clicking the video will give you one of the most weak and ridiculous camera shots you could ever hope to see out of local media.

Then the reporter talks about this "gutsy gal" and the "gut wrenching" procedure that saved her life. To Liz Hurley I would say: You're a part, in this case, of what sometimes embarrasses the rest of us about reporters. The off-color jokes of questionable taste serve an important purpose as a coping mechanism for a lot of people, but are for off-air. You're doing it in front of the camera as a pun. A pun where one young woman almost lost her life, is still fighting for it and where another boy's death made her survival possible. Your puns, you might say, are something the rest of us don't want to stomach.

# posted by Kenny

5.17.2007

Getting off my feet was a relief. I counted the steps from the car to a prone position this afternoon, such is my pain. It seems I've purchased the dress shoes that look snazzy in a reasonably conservative way and then, because they like you, decide to dislodge and manipulate one or several of the small bones in your foot.

This has been troubling me since the end of last week. It gets better for a while and then I do something to aggravate it. It stops aching for a while and suddenly it is difficult to apply the brake.

When you're down to left foot driving you might want to rethink your footwear.

So I'll give those shoes a rest for a bit. Knowing full well that the lifting, turning and pivoting with extra weight in hand while moving furniture hasn't helped. C'est la pieds.

I collapse onto my inflatable mattress because it was the first horizontal resting appartus I came across. I tried to watch a bit of television, got about 40 minutes into something forgettable and fell asleep. A few hours later, now, I'm awake. My nap seems to have been for about 45 minutes, but one must add the post-nap grogginess to the sum total. It was ultimately long enough to make me rehape my day just a bit.

Some of the housework got put on hold, then.

"Good," my foot sad.

No, bad I replied.

With waves of a mild stabbing pain my foot told me who was boss. So I've limped upstairs.

There was some laundry in there. And pizza. I watched Bull Durham for the 1,264th time and am dismayed at what they cut for the television runtime. You cut Sixty Minute Man and the mound conference for more Noxema commercials? Really?

So now, sitting at the computer we must once again remember to take advantage of the mid-afternoon nap: I'm wide awake.

It is pushing midnight and I'm not even yawning. Maybe in an hour or two.

Fortunately I don't have to work tomorrow. I'll be sleeping in until the absolutely decadent time of 7 a.m. A little insomnia, then, won't hurt. But still, I should try.

Just nothing with the foot.

# posted by Kenny

5.16.2007

The afternoon, in a nutshell: Grunt. Lift. Wheeze. Wipe sweat from brow. Be too fascinated by a new tool. Hurt something in a comical way. Consider new ways that can hurt yourself out of desperation to get the job done. Sweat. Breathe really hard. Consider sponsoring legislation mandating wider door frames and exactly how far about doors must be from one another.

So there's that.

Yesterday I'd wanted to move a desk. Or, rather, part of a desk. That meant taking it apart and since I don't have that specific type of screwdriver made only in Laos in 1982-1987 I had to go out and find one. That was today. So, at Lowes, I'm wondering where they sell the actual, you know, tools.

They have a section called Tool World. In this particular Lowes it is somewhat small, and hidden away from the main entrance. The curiously lost expression didn't earn the attention of a helpful attendant until I'd found Tool World and then she wouldn't leave me alone to find my screwdriver in peace.

"Need help?"

Nope.

"Sure you don't need any help?"

Think I got it.

"Well if you need any help --"

An uncomfortable silence followed and hiding behind the peace and tranquility of the hexagonal screwdrivers -- of which there are many -- couldn't solve the problem.

Finally I found what I needed, the square end screwdriver. A manager saw me move to the cash registers and opened one, and announced it on the P.A., just for me. I didn't know this was for me at the time, until he came over to the next register to apologize for someone beating me to it. I was fine in this second line, until things move slowly and I go back to that line, my line. But someone else beats me to it again. This becomes a dance of the honeybees, only no one knows what we're communicating.

The manager, in his so overly helpful it is a little annoying manner of the suburbs, is eager to get me out of the store. I'm eager to get home and try this new Laotian screwdriver. Finally it all works out.

And that is when the real difficulties of the day began.

Detach the unwanted section. Size things up, realize that to move the thing I will now need to detach a wanted section. Over three attempts I finally manage to move the desk up the K2 Mountain of basement steps. I'll not go into details here, but at one point I thought I nearly lost a pinkie. Out of desperation I tried the most ridiculous MacGyver ideas possible only to come to my senses at the last possible moment of safety.

Finally I made it happen, which then required an immediate 180 degree turn of the desk and more steps to hike. By now I'm gassed, sweating in ridiculous proportions, am hurt and sore and having nothing of any stability on this desk to grab onto. It isn't that it is heavy. It is ungainly. It is larger than I am. It is exactly the size of every obstacle between where it started and where it was going, which is about 12 feet straight up.

And don't think I didn't consider sawing a hole out of the floor and rigging up a pulley system to get the job done.

Over a sandwich I watched the final two episodes of Voyager. Until almost the very end I thought it was another one of those bad teasing false endings. And then I realized that I had seen the finale before, that this was actually it and that it was just a bad ending. I'm rather proud I never invested any real time into that show.

After that, some computer work, a little reading and now it has suddenly become a late night. Moving furniture by yourself is time intensive, and possibly not as satisfying as it should be, if all the aches and pains are any indication. I'm sore, but feeling good about the progress around the house, even if one accomplishment seems to reveal three more tasks. Another week or so of this and, if you're still reading by then, most of it will be done.

The Great Spring Cleaning, Sort Of, of 2007 now has an end in sight. You need a telescope, but still.

# posted by Kenny

5.15.2007

Walked through part of the UAB campus downtown this afternoon. It was a lovely afternoon after the morning's haze and I wanted to get a glimpse at some of the new construction underway on campus. There are several projects underway, I don't pretend to know all the details off the top of my head, but the University is in the middle of a long-reaching and ambitious plan to make a downtown commuter campus feel more collegial.

They're doing a really nice job, too. There's a huge beautiful new recreation center that opened just before I finished my master's. A big new cafeteria and dorm, a new academic building on the way and more. There's also a project now underway called The Green, a big block long section of campus that will resemble the traditional quad at many schools. This has always been one of the concerns for UAB, a great institution and a fabulous health care system and a tremendous economic engine for the community, but it has never felt like a campus in the idealized sense.

They're making great strides though and this should be a proud time in UAB's young and storied history.

I walked through the University Center, up to and in front of the library and drove by the theatre and the honors college and saw one student sitting in the shade reading. Going through the Campus Green I realized one of the things that I miss about being on campus: the solitude. The whole place was quiet. It was late on a Tuesday afternoon a week after graduation and most of the dorms and campus features were closed. Even the traffic, with a main drive through the heart of campus, seemed more sedate today.

I stopped by the baseball field, where the team was practicing, but apparently the long lens looked suspicious, so I left without causing a stir. Really, though, I'd just been avoiding housework.

Which is plentiful.

I'm moving furniture. And realizing that I was once much better at this. In high school I had a job that involved slinging furniture around a room. That was to clean carpets and the movement of any given piece was slung about four feet so that we could get the carpet cleaning wand into the hidden places. But volume counts!

I'm sure I made a lot of volume as I grunted and wheezed through some furniture moving today. I'm slowly moving rooms. One piece upstairs, one piece downstairs. But these are marginally heavy things and I am only one guy.

Heave ho, heave ho, it's out my back will go ...

Actually it wasn't bad. I'm still a bit sore though, mind you, from the weekend. Sunday night a big piece of wood in the form of the headboard of my former bed fell toward me. Instinctively I stuck my arm out to absorb the fall and then bit my tongue for the next two or three minutes so as not to wake the neighbors. Right on the unfunny bone. Meanwhile my foot feels like it will fall off at the big toe just any day now. Still we persevere. I pulled out some cable that no longer runs to anything, searched in vain for a special screwdriver and puzzled over what to do with this and that.

Currently I'm despairing at the mess one makes when they're actually trying to clean something up. When Item A must be moved all of the artifacts and years of dust bunnies materialize. When Item A is moved -- or even better, removed -- those things don't really go anywhere. And now Item B must go in that same place, but its storage spaces are already accounted for, leaving a big heap in the middle of the room.

And that's the next project.

But now I'm worn down from the experience. So far I've scuffed no walls and that regard for paint has added to the joy of the solo project. By the end of the evening I'm ready for dinner, something simple please, and by now even taking the garbage out feels like a chore. I just want to sit down and watch Denny Crane.

And right about that time Boston Legal came on. Denny Crane has Lord Stanley's Cup and is about to carve his name into it. Hilarity ensues and this will probably wind up in court in the next nine minutes thanks to Boston's streamlined legal system.

Actually there's a wedding to attend and I fear for the show based on this. Don't know what to do with the supporting cast? Marry them to one another. Where's Fonzie and his skis?

So the reverend Michael Gross -- who you'll recall as Steven Keaton from Family Ties, but I like to remember him as Burt Gummer from Tremors, because he was redemption in something terrible -- will marry off Brad and Denise, make snide comments one would rather not consider coming from a man of the cloth and ... have the law break into his church? Ahh. He's aiding illegal aliens. Very topical.

He's arrested, Alan Shore will crusade for him, the wedding is off because the bride's got a baby to birth! Ahh those wacky kids of the early 21st Century. The hijinks they could get into!

In 70 or 80 years, the internet willing, someone will stumble onto the last few paragraphs and make wide assumptions about our culture. Dear future reader: They are all true.

Anyway, the father, he art in court. Denise Chase-to-be is in contractions and Brad, her groom, is apparently still a reservist and a major (how has he avoided Iraq for all this time?) is hyperventilating. That's a nice touch. And of course his fundamental "We gotta be married before the baby gets here" vibe is used as the punchline ... those wacky kids still worried about wedlock ... Shouldn't that play against him in his stance on abortion? Since birth is the prime moment here in terms of a child being illegitimate, wouldn't that say something about when life begins?

It is a sliding scale sometimes, to be sure.

Jerry Espensen is representing a woman with a therapy duck (Paging Henry Winkler.) and his quirks are charming, for about 15 minutes. Now I just want him to go away again. Not to be disrespectful of people living with Asperger's Syndrome, but as a character it doesn't do a lot for me. As an opportunity to develop awareness it remains gold, but when you must develop new social tics each episode you've probably found backed into the corner with your paintbrush still in hand.

Denny shoots the duck. I've no idea why. No one else can figure it out and his job is once again threatened. That's foreshadowing for a later date, friends.

Alan is back in court, having done the back and forth on the immigration issue, jousted with the judge, made snide comments about the other attorney and now here's the popular closing argument. Where it has become obvious that they're now playing fast and loose with his rhetoric, but clearly the demagogy is gold.

But Alan loses. No one should be surprised here. He put the reverend on the stand and he admitted to his crime. The illegal alien cut a deal to stay in the country for her testimony which is one of those quirky little things about prosecutors, I guess. At some point these things can just become tally marks in a qualitative way without regard to the quantitative. At least television prosecutors who are made to look like antagonistic simpletons. Clearly the character broke the law, should be punished and he was fine with that. Why you'd let the other law breaker go untouched remains a mystery ... unless she is a member of a powerful minority interest now flexing its advocacy muscles. But I'm probably being too cynical about a television show now.

And, at the end, Denny drops the Stanley Cup off the balcony. Oh Denny, how you do toy with irrelevant icons.

# posted by Kenny

5.14.2007

Oh boy did this morning get here too quickly. Impossibly quickly. My subconscious tells me that despite being the type of sleeper that is generally unaware of anything that doesn't involve a crashing sound.

Fortunately whatever radio station the alarm is currently tune too was not playing a crashing noise this morning. The downside being that it took awhile to wake up. Still not sure what the topic of conversation was on the radio, but there was talking and I disagreed. Not to disagree with the position, or to disagree for the sake of disagreeing, but just because the clock was talking to me and it couldn't possibly yet be time for that.

But it was, alas.

Before I was out of the house my mother was up collecting things to add to her inventory and trip to her lake house. She was gone when I got home, there were fewer things in the house when I arrived, but there were sticky notes everywhere. Keep this, throw this out. You could plot her course through the house. When she started there were explanations for why this thing should be kept. By the time she made it to the other end the notes had been trimmed to "Keep" or "Out". Had there been another room she might have decided to resort to telepathy.

I'm going to forget that, so the sticky notes were probably the way to go.

I slept on the air mattress last night, which wasn't bad. I spent part of the afternoon on it as well, just staring blankly at the ceiling. This has been a fun-filled and busy stretch of days. Today quickly, and easily, became the day to stare at something isn't moving. When you don't even have to rationalize doing is how you know it is time to veg, that's your lesson for today.

So, today.

I made my debut appearance on espn.com. The story, in brief: Last year at the Rickwood Classic I met Jim Caple by chance. He took my card, and I talked a bit to one of their producers. Ultimately, last week they wrote back and asked about some photographs and some fact checking. Jim is a great writer and doesn't need my fact checking. He's only held back by the photographer in this column.

So in getting to know one of the producers last few days through a nice rambling conversation. They decided to put the piece on the front page of under their Must Read section. Placement is everything and he producer me this afternoon to say the story and the photo gallery were doing monster numbers for them already. If you like baseball and are a fan of history, this is a great story to read.

Guess I should put that on my list of things to humbly brag about, huh? Top of the world and all that.

Elsewhere today I received not one, but two honorable mentions in the Outside the Beltway caption contest.

Later I watched all four episods of Enterprise on the SciFi channel, which brings us to the end of the third season. The cliffhanger was that our heroes are suddenly flung back into World War II earth. P-51 Mustangs are firing at the shuttle over San Francisco and there's a Nazi with a case of eczema so bad that no one wants to even mention it to him, even the doctor. And don't even mention that guy's red eyes because he will totally invade another European country on that if you set him off.

This goes on for two episodes, I believe, and then after that it will quickly become obvious, I fear, that the creative team was grasping at straws while seeing the writing on the wall. It is a shame, too, because the third season is actually not as bad as some would have you believe. But the big threat was resolved, the search spanned a whole season of programming and now it seems to be headed back toward stand alone episodes as the show limps into its final spacedock.

OK, I made a cheesy science fiction metaphor. A sure sign we should move on to other cheesy fictions.

The Bauer Hour! Next week it is the explosive (EXPLOSIVE!) season finale. Tonight Jack knocks out my cable. Or at least in one room. And now two. There's no time for this!

Oddly enough the cable in the den was working just fine. All I could get upstairs was fuzz. Perhaps it is the television. I'd try others, but my mother took one with her when she left this morning. So I ended up watching Jack doing counter-terrorism/matters of the heart things the old fashioned way: over the broadcast.

TiVo was recording downstairs, I just took the feed from the powerhouse antennae that WBRC has on top of Red Mountain. I couldn't tell you the last time I watched something with this much snow in it, but it was kind of charming in a "Get out there and fix the UHF!" sort of way.

So I finally tuned in just in time to see Jack off one Chinese bad guy and Rick Schroder shot another one who couldn't do the bad guy thing and wrestle his weapon away from a woman who was lying prone on the ground while he was standing over her and had the weight advantage by at least a hundred pounds of muscle.

Jack wants to go after the other bad guys that got away while offering candy to his nephew.

"But Jack you're still under arrest ..." "

"No one knows the layout of this place better than me."

"Oh, alright you. You suave devil."

You can see Schroder wilting a little on the inside here. Sure, he just showed up late this afternoon, but there are other people on staff who have been in the office before. Folks who haven't been locked up in a Chinese prison during two years of renovations.

But that sort of removes our hero and we can't have that. So down and around they go, chasing the bad guys and finding them just as they're about to get away. Jack shoots at and wrecks one car. A fire fight follows. He does a nice slide into second base while dropping a bad guy with one round, easily going into the Dispatching Bad Guys With Flair stack. The bad guys' boss makes his escape, with Bauer the Younger in tow and the Elder in pursuit.

Josh escapes, Jack's got the bad guy with no where to go. Josh slips because ... well, because. That's how you know he's not Jack's son, and you know that's what you're thinking when you heard the boy yell. He has the same guttural tone, but Jack doesn't slip. He rescues his nephew and while the boy is safely secured, the bad guy escapes. All is well.

Meanwhile at CTU the new guy is taking over from the interim boss lady. She's huffy, despite knowing her role all along. The characters sure do fluctuate from hour to hour. At the White House things are going badly. The treasonous woman is found out by her spy boyfriend and she then learns two treasonous wrongs do not make a right, but it will lead to some good old fashioned domestic violence, which is so much fun in this case the secret service kicks in the door.

The spy does the government's bidding in an attempt for leniency, but the Russians don't buy the stalling ruse. (Get it? Stalling ruse? Antiquated geopolitical puns! I can't get enough of them!) So things on that front continue to deteriorate because they really want that microchip back from the Chinese. Only the Chinese guy doesn't have it, Jack's father does. He was going to fix it, but things just sort of whither away in the plot at this point.

What about that nuclear explosion earlier in the day? This is like a Patrick Duffy in Dallas, Highlander 2 dream sequence thing now, isn't it?

At the end of the hour Jack is with Josh and they're about to reunite the Bauer clan, such as it is and without the pater familias, who's trying to cut deals with everybody at this point. Jack then goes to answer an urgent phone call.

Jack doesn't slip, but he does this a lot. And now I'd like to offer my open letter to Jack Bauer:

Dear Jack,

Please don't take urgent calls at the end of your day. This only leads to sorrow.

Love,

America

And another open letter, this time to the writers of 24:

Dear writers of 24,

You did this last season. Try something else because this will only lead to our sorrow.

Love,

America

Ricky Schroder Bauer naps Josh, which makes the third time that's happened today. But he sings him the Silver Spoons them while he does it. Not the original one, but the later, hipper, rock version.

They hold Jack down while the helicopter takes off. And that'll set us up for the final two hours, coming next week. It'll be EXPLOSIVE! (Tune in, really we mean it. Here's a preview of a missle being launched.)

Check out the espn.com piece and tune in next time on As the Blog Turns.

# posted by Kenny

5.13.2007

Happy Mother's Day!

My mother, of course, is the best in the world. I can only hope that yours is half as good. But, if she is half as good as my mother, you're still doing OK in the mother department.

(I'm contractually obligated to say these things, but it is true either way.)

Only once today did she mention that she "labored with him for 30 years" and so on.

So the world wind tour continues today. Up for church, skipped out on one half of my family for other parts of my family. Stopped by my great-grandmother's to drop off a card, made it to my other grandparents to get there for lunch. Help make the food -- I had fry duty, you want fries with that? -- scarfed down too much food, washed the dishes and stayed a few more minutes before having to sprint away from there.

I feel terrible about all of this, but it is the story of my every holiday: high level calculus to see everyone, keep them happy and then the frantic sprint to get it all done. Everyone's family is this way, I'm sure. The key parts of my extended family all live within half an hour of one another, I live several hours away so when I'm in town I feel obligated to catch them all. Having so much family that wants to see me is a blessing, having to do it all in 36 hours is a challenge.

This afternoon I drove across roughly half the width of the north part of the state. Kelly was graduating and it was worth it. (That is also worth a theme song.)

Missed the pomp, which lasted just over 30 minutes, but got there in time for 90 minutes of circumstance, including a very moving posthumous graduation of a young engineer who died of leukemia just a few credits short of graduation. His father walked across the stage to receive his degree and there weren't all that many dry eyes in the civic center when he did it.

How proud and brave and sad that man must be.

Can you imagine the Virginia Tech graduation last week? You can see that here.

Back to today, I've decided UAH must hate mothers as they apparently they always have their spring commencement on Mother's Day. That's a nice treat for the mother's of the graduate, but it is something of an inconvenience for the rest of us.

On the one hand I did get to see and give Kelly's mother a card, on the other hand I've been stealing glances at the clock all day long.

She's worth it.

Walking around taking pictures to give to Kelly this week I found the obligatory Cute Baby of the Day. He remained unimpressed through the end of the ceremony.

Visited with Kelly for a few minutes, let her celebrate with other people and got back just in time to meet my mother for the trip back to Birmingham. She's towing a trailer to take some furniture to her lake house. We stopped off on the way home to have an impromptu Pie Day with the usual suspects.

Taylor does not look conspicuous at all.

Allow me to pretend to be a photographer for a moment: On this picture I turned the camera upside down, popped the flash and bounced it off some ceramic plates. Now that's fill light.

In the parking lot she beat me up with her balloon. It was purple. I've no idea how that happened, but there I was, prone on the sidewalk and assaulted by a pre-schooler.

After that humbling experience it was a quick sprint the rest of the way home. Loaded up a trailer -- one full bedroom suite, two chairs, a television and various other pieces -- before time to crash for the night.

It is hard to turn down a mother's request on her big day, but she'll draw that out until the very end of her day if you're not careful. After all, she's "labored with you for X number of years" and she figures to get her return on investment.

Happy Mother's Day!

# posted by Kenny

5.12.2007

That bit, yesterday, about sleeping in on the Saturdays? Not today. The most soul-crushing of events took place last night when I realized that I had to set an alarm for Saturday morning.

So up and at 'em. Time for a drive to north Alabama. Got there just before noon and immediately went to work. The Yankee and I installed an air conditioner unit in my mother's lake house. Forced open a window that might have been painted over for decades and went for a second air conditioner. Had lunch, Chick-fil-A on the go, installed the second unit, finally stopped sweating and then got my act together just in time to take a shower.

Coat and tie, out the door and across the state line. We took family portraits with a photographer that attends my uncle's church. I don't like taking pictures generally speaking -- that's why I'm behind the camera so much, so I don't have to be in front of it -- but studio portraits roll around very rarely so I played along. Hopefully they'll be good ones.

Played with some cows, drove home and had GrandBonnie's famous chicken stew for dinner. Later in the evening there were was her even more famous fudge pie for dessert.

So, to sum up, I woke up in one area code, did housework in a second area code, took pictures in a third area code and return to an exhausted state to watch bad B movies in the second area code.

This is the easy day of my weekend.

# posted by Kenny

5.11.2007

Took today off. There was just too many things early in the week that didn't look like they'd get accomplished. A lot of it has addressed more quickly than I'd hoped, but today was still good to have for myself.

You must be flirting with responsibility when you take a vacation day to handle errands and chores.

But things progressed nicely today. Hopefully I'm making strong efforts that will deliver promising results. Still the cleaning and errand-running must continue. The weekend is here and, while that's usually a nice break, the weekend will be busier than the work week.

Weekends are breaks, but they aren't reliefs. Some people would say that, and that's the unfortunate person in need of new goals or drastic changes of scenery. Weekends, to me, generally are generally a welcome opportunity to sleep past 4:30 in the morning. Otherwise I wouldn't complain much. I couldn't; I'm a lucky guy.

But I did get to sleep in a bit today. A bit later than I intended, actually, but still got a lot done. There's more to do, there's always more to do, but we'll all get there eventually. If not then someone else will inherit the chores. That'd be a bad way to go.

"Poor guy. Had so many dreams and never got in trouble. Shame about the shrubs at his house though."

And so on.

I met one of my neighbors today, but not in the neighborhood. Later I met a former neighbor at a clothing store.

"Do you remember me?" she asked.

Should I?

I'm terrible at this. It is one of my great failings. Now I can tell you a few stories about her as a child. I can vaguely recall she attended the same high school for a short time. When we talked all I could think of was to ask how her older brother and her mother were doing.

And then she says "I've got three kids. How many do you have?"

Ha. Haha. Ha.

There's not even a schedule or a plan at this point. Presently I can say that I love children, but am more than likely a bit selfish for kids. Sleeping in on Saturdays? Yeah, that's me, but that's not a dad.

Before Pie Day more errands were scratched off the list. Presents and cards were bought. One took a long search. Godiva is closed for renovation in the mall, and one department store sold candy bars, but a second store sold the full boxes. Another stop at the Bath Junkie for another girlie present to learn that that store is closing. Everyone rush to the Galleria now!

We decide that we should make it our new goal to eat at all of the tables in the restaurant. Nothing exceptional happened after that, except Ward was asked ifa particular genre of joke would offend, he said "No" and then wordlessly walked off at the punchline.

Made it home in time to pick a few more Glomeratas on ebay. Four for 12 bucks which will give me one-third of the collection. Someone tell me when this gets out of control, OK?

That's pretty much been the day. I was worn out before dinner and I'm not sure why. The week just wore on me, I guess, with its many starts and stops. Unusual for me, but I was, and am, ready for a nap.

Need one too. Big, busy day tomorrow.

# posted by Kenny

5.10.2007

Late breakfast means no lunch means pictures for you. Enjoy!

This is the entrance ramp I use every day and recently I noticed the new ghost sign. BioTech is just too new sounding, and has that cool capital letter in the middle that all the kids love these days. Nothing about this should be a ghost sign.

Had the company folded? Hard to imagine in a city where biotechnology has become such a big industry. The day after I noticed the ghost sign I found the new office. They're doing just fine, thanks. This place was kind of small and dreary, but the new office is larger and suggests that you'd be happy to shop here for a prosthetic device.

I have not found the dancing man logo on the new building. That search must continue.

It got a bit warm under the noon sun. It was 84 when I walked outside and walking seven or eight blocks in jeans got toasty. So I found an alley I haven't been down and crept along the side that was shaded. A nice old warehouse was kind enough to cool me off a bit, and then I peeked up to see that the sun had found me.

That's a fire escape of course, which still had access for the top two floors, but that last ladder was missing. Rounding the corner I found that the warehouse is still in use. A company that makes fireplaces runs it. You'd think they'd appreciate the value of a working fire escape.

With my hour almost up, having dodged traffic and avoided joggers, I found one neat little scene a block from the office. I work on a one way street and everything above it is new to me. This view was worth it. If you likes in your photography, that is. I'm not an artist or any great photographer, but lines are important, and when I see them I want to share them. So enjoy your lines.

Oh, and here's some graffiti. I have several visitors that like the graffiti pictures, so I try to oblige them with new graffiti whenever I can. I'm a giver. I was actually looking for one abandoned building with no roof, but colorful artwork on the inside, but I was picking all the wrong roads. Next time then.

I need new dress shoes. And the world apparently discriminates against people with big feet. It has become very difficult in recent years to find dress shoes of the appropriate style in a size 13. On the fourth store I found some that will do. I wanted loafers, but instead got some that make me look like a government employee. They have thin laces, are shiny and the heel is raised to the exact degree of some guy sitting in an office somewhere in Manhattan. He makes a lot of money to be there, so he feels the need to be precise.

But in four stores I found two pairs of shoes that were both black and fit, I suppose I shouldn't ask for too much more than that.

(Originally I was going to detail the shoe shopping experience in this blog's patented 14 paragraph style, but I decided against it. You're welcome.)

At home the cleaning continues. I'm at that magical place where no matter what I do doesn't seem to improve on anything. In fact, in my efforts to clean, shuffle, reorganize and throw things out the place looks dirtier than it did when I started.

I should do something about that.

# posted by Kenny

5.09.2007

Here's a helpful hint: don't clean closets with melancholy music playing in the background. I put a random set on for the chore and then realized that all the wrong songs were popping up. One needs hyper music for sorting, organizing, restacking and throwing things out. Keep it lively, I say. You'll get rid of more stuff and make more room for yourself that way.

So after I changed the musical selections I got back to work, knocking out two closets, finding two garbage backs worth of goods to donate and two bags to recycle into the family ecology. Out of that effort I might have created almost one empty closet, so the peppier music did the trick. Now I just have three more closets to go, but those will be a different day. Now, it is the basement and garage.

Later. I waited until long after the sun went down just to avoid the heat, but I still finished up sweaty. I've established a toehold in the basement however. Now sitting outside and happily waiting for their second chances to help others are an old lamp, a big chair, an end table and two copiers. There's also a weedeater, two ancient televisions, four bags of clothes and sundries and part of a set of suitcases. And two mattresses.

And that without any peppy music.

Hannah Homes is coming to pick that stuff up tomorrow. Hopefully most of it will be useful somehow.

When I get in tomorrow I'll be cleaning up around the basement, organizing the trinkets, starting a liberal throw it out program and sweep up leaves. I've never been sure how they get in there, the door never stays open, but leaves are sneaky little things.

Ultimately three pieces of furniture will go upstairs and three pieces from upstairs will make it down there. Anyone with a talent for spatial dynamics, or even Tetris, is invited to come help orchestrate that. I'll move it, just help me figure out how.

All of this is an awful lot of change for one week. It has probably seemed dreadfully repetitive to you, and I apologize. But you know how cleaning is. A few more days of singular focus on house projects and I can find something more fun to play with. Hopefully you'll find that more intriguing. If not, I've got big problems here, no?

Almost time for Dreamtown, Population: Me. But first there's one small television note. I watched the season finale for Jericho last night. I know a couple of people that read this won't have watched the show by the time they read this, so I'll stay mostly quiet. But wow. The good people behind this show know how to write a cliffhanger. Best post-apocalyptic television show out there.

Oh, and a piece of good news to end the day: Stephen and Brooke called and reported they're having a girl. They sent out the ultrasound and everything looks good. Congrats again guys.

# posted by Kenny

5.08.2007

Today was better than yesterday. There were some difficulties yesterday, nothing worthy of bothering you with here, just a Monday. There was a trifling annoyance, but in the scheme of things this is all cake and butter and that delicious stuff on the cake mixer compared to What Could Have Been.

Whenever life takes hold in an unpleasant way it is always good to remember that. My health, life nor any of the things that are really important have been called into question; this problem can be remedied and so this day has been another win.

So I spent some time on the phone today, reconciling these previous difficulties. In an afternoon I'd accomplished 85 percent of everything required, doing in about an hour the things I'd feared would take more than a day. I spoke with extremely pleasant and helpful people on on phones in several different agencies. They were mostly of the flat middle American accent so that it was hard to tell where they are from, but you got the sense that there's a banner on the wall in their call center: You're making things better for someone on this call.

It seeped down the phone system, lept to a satellite and then swooped into the nearby cell tower and beamed its way into my phone and thusly to me. Kindness. Patience. It was a satisfying feeling. Mission, as they say, accomplished. And with not nearly the angst and gnashing of teeth one would expect.

I only go on in such glowing terms to make one small point. The rule of thumb was once that a satisfied customer tells one friend, but a dissatisfied customer tells 10. That's changed, I believe, because we've unfortunately grown so accustomed to poor service that it is the norm, and why grouse about that to your friends? It just has to be outlandish to even merit a mention. But get yourself some good service these days and you'll go on and on. Think about it.

Having done that I decided on an afternoon of leisure. Yes, I take many of these, but the rest of life gets accomplished too, you're just left to assume that the chores have been completed, the bills paid and the door-to-door encyclopedia salesman has been kept at bay.

You haven't heard from that guy in a few years, have you? The internet snatched away a few dozen jobs from upstart college students looking to spend the summer bankrolling the fall. Roombas robbed us of the vacuum cleaner salesman and the only ones left are the missionaries and the local guy who'd really like to cut down some limbs in your yard. That's what I have here, some guy going mailbox to mailbox adding to the clutter. That's probably a felony, but would anyone prosecute? We have that guy, and the occasional fund raising kid, but that's it. My suburb isn't suburban enough to get the ubiquitous Chinese menu rolled up and straining against a rubber band.

Had any of them stopped by today, they would have found me lounging on the sofa, taking in The Longest Day. The title is as if the filmmakers were concerned you wouldn't get the point with the three hour run time. This is still a great movie, even as modern war stories are outpacing it on the silver screen. Soldiers die in this film in the absurd black and white war movie ways, but that feels almost like a reprieve these days.

There are something like three dozen honest superstars in this movie and John Wayne is the worst actor among them. Love the guy, but he's John Wayne-ing it in here. Of course he's opposite with Robert Mitchum, Henry Fonda, Roddy McDowall, Red Buttons, Sean Connery and a host of others, but that just widens the divide here I think.

The Longest Day received two Oscars and, in the 1962 context, probably deserved more. There are some fantastic shots, terrific narrative and incredible absurdism that anyone who's read anything about war must conclude that what you just saw either did happen or could happen. Sure the movie has its production mistakes, but that aerial shot of the running battle toward the end makes up for everything. Now 45 years ago they made that shot, today it'd all be CGI and only slightly obvious, but this shot feels historic in itself now. It makes you wonder what the French must have felt when the filming was being done, or the German actors thundering away in such big roles. It'd been less than a generation -- indeed some of these actors participated in the invasion -- and yet here was this movie. Indeed, have some great historical trivia:

While clearing a section of the Normandy beach near Ponte du Hoc, the film's crew unearthed a tank that had been buried in the sand since the original invasion. Mechanics cleaned it off, fixed it up and it was used in the film as part of the British tank regiment.

And so they set out to make the definitive piece of cinema of such an important moment. It might fall a bit short now, which is a shame and not the movie's fault, but rather our knowledge of the outcome. Historical certainty plays tricks on us here, but this situation was very much in doubt, and remained so long after John Wayne's character finally makes it to town. Never a sure bet, it was some time after D-Day that those in the middle of the action could feel the momentum turn in the war.

How I do go on about the classics.

Watched two episodes of Enterprise tonight, nodding off in the third. I'm coming to the conclusion, though, that this third season gets short shrift. It is bad in parts, sure, but they're realling laying the foundation here for the serious episodic science fiction work to come. The mood is often dark, the characters get gritty and there are several flirtations with moral ambiguity. The storyline has become episodic and aside from the overall "Everything Will Ultimately Be OK in the End Because it is Star Trek" (TM Gene Rodenberry) feeling that the show can't escape, there's a lot of doubt and fear and shadow involved.

By this time in the series production, however, the writing was being put on the wall. Purists were probably still upset, but there are a lot of small things that this series made OK for later programs. Some of the firefights, the grime and the debris all take a little run at Battlestar Galactica. Someone was taking note, "Oh, OK. I can do these things now. Good."

In giving some of the characters darker sides if they'