The quiet beauty of a Sunday morning before the city awakes...
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Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Scenes from the Forklift: We're Back, Baby!
Scenes from the what-now? Yeah, you read that right... Time for a long-overdue episode of Scenes from the Forklift.
It's not for a lack of material that I haven't spoken about work in such a long time. Rather, it has been a lack of desire and, quite frankly, lack of a forklift!
The desire part can be directly linked to the massive amount of work we've been doing lately. I'm sure I could have come up with quite a few funny stories over the last year, especially considering the daily antics of our latest crew, but did I want to? Did I really want to work myself into the ground (those of you who know me personally, stop laughing!) and then relive it as soon as I got home? Not bloody likely! Hence, no desire.
As for the forklift... Well, let's just say that 3 tons of industrial machinery can become 3 tons of industrial scrap metal if you're willing to neglect it enough. And, apparently, we were. In fact, so dedicated to this cause, we were, that we managed to do in two of them in a mere matter of months! The electric one now stands in a corner, up on blocks with its drive motor sitting on a nearby oil-soaked piece of cardboard. The motor we could move if we really wanted to, but the forklift itself remains a 10-foot tall, immobile testament to our complacency. Meanwhile, the good old sit-down propane forklift occupies another corner of the warehouse, its insides a mass of twisted metal and shredded belts that tell a sad tale of hard-livin' and scarce attention.
Yep, we done 'em in good!
But fear not, Good Reader! The day is darkest before the dawn, and I see the sun coming up... Remember how busy I said we were? Well, you can't get through that kind of workload without some heavy lifting-power. Not around here, anyway, and it seems the Powers That Be have inclined their mighty heads in our direction and noticed our need.
Have they bought us a new forklift, you wonder? Not exactly. But they've done the next best thing... They've rented us one!
Yes! At long last, Scenes from the Forklift can rise from the ashes like the mythical phoenix to entertain once again! Well, as long as the rental company is also providing service and maintenance...
Stay tuned...
It's not for a lack of material that I haven't spoken about work in such a long time. Rather, it has been a lack of desire and, quite frankly, lack of a forklift!
The desire part can be directly linked to the massive amount of work we've been doing lately. I'm sure I could have come up with quite a few funny stories over the last year, especially considering the daily antics of our latest crew, but did I want to? Did I really want to work myself into the ground (those of you who know me personally, stop laughing!) and then relive it as soon as I got home? Not bloody likely! Hence, no desire.
As for the forklift... Well, let's just say that 3 tons of industrial machinery can become 3 tons of industrial scrap metal if you're willing to neglect it enough. And, apparently, we were. In fact, so dedicated to this cause, we were, that we managed to do in two of them in a mere matter of months! The electric one now stands in a corner, up on blocks with its drive motor sitting on a nearby oil-soaked piece of cardboard. The motor we could move if we really wanted to, but the forklift itself remains a 10-foot tall, immobile testament to our complacency. Meanwhile, the good old sit-down propane forklift occupies another corner of the warehouse, its insides a mass of twisted metal and shredded belts that tell a sad tale of hard-livin' and scarce attention.
Yep, we done 'em in good!
But fear not, Good Reader! The day is darkest before the dawn, and I see the sun coming up... Remember how busy I said we were? Well, you can't get through that kind of workload without some heavy lifting-power. Not around here, anyway, and it seems the Powers That Be have inclined their mighty heads in our direction and noticed our need.
Have they bought us a new forklift, you wonder? Not exactly. But they've done the next best thing... They've rented us one!
Yes! At long last, Scenes from the Forklift can rise from the ashes like the mythical phoenix to entertain once again! Well, as long as the rental company is also providing service and maintenance...
Stay tuned...
Monday, September 26, 2005
Dying Wish Granted
If this one doesn't get to you, then you're colder than that leftover coffee I accidentally took a swig of this morning.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
No More Musing... If There Ever Was Any
That's right... I've dropped the "Musings of a". You see, upon reflection, I began to wonder if there ever truly were any "musings" on this blog. Oh, sure, there were plenty of questions, mostly of the rhetorical nature, and more than my fair share of hair-brained theories and ponderings. But did I ever really muse on a topic?
Perhaps that last paragraph could be considered my first and only "musing". But, moving on...
So, I've decided to stop living the lie and tell it like it is. I'm Cuppojoe and I've got a Caffeinated Mind. There. I've said it. No more pretense at musing, just good old random thoughts as they rise to the surface.
I feel 20lbs lighter already...
(P.S. Don't forget to update your Favorites... I am in your Favorites, right? Hello?)
Perhaps that last paragraph could be considered my first and only "musing". But, moving on...
So, I've decided to stop living the lie and tell it like it is. I'm Cuppojoe and I've got a Caffeinated Mind. There. I've said it. No more pretense at musing, just good old random thoughts as they rise to the surface.
I feel 20lbs lighter already...
(P.S. Don't forget to update your Favorites... I am in your Favorites, right? Hello?)
Monday, September 19, 2005
The Cat's Out of the Bag... Again
I want to begin by saying that the following post was written at the request of my girlfriend. She's got something to say but, not being a blogger herself, no outlet for getting it said. Well, in truth, she has a lot of things to say, and a number of tried and true outlets for getting them said, but I'm talking about getting it said to a broader audience... Like you folks.
Apparently, I've led her to believe I have this clarion voice that reaches the masses. I guess I've somehow given her the impression that there are hoards of people who rush to my blog everyday, just to read whatever clever, witty, amusing, or sarcastic thing popped into my head the night before.
And we'll just keep letting her believe those things, won't we?
Anyway, here's the thing: It would seem that my girlfriend (who will forever afterward be referred to as "Mrs. Joe" because typing "my girlfriend" over and over again is becoming tiresome and lame) is having a hard time buying me gifts. Not that she has any difficulty with the actual shopping part... No way. She's got that down to a science. In fact, I suspect that there are things girls are taught in Jr. High Home Ec that us guys totally miss while we're busy making ashtrays and paperweights in Shop class (because those are skills that no man can go through life without...).
It seems that the problem lies not in the spending of the money on the merchandise, but in keeping the purchased merchandise a secret from Yours Truly. And before anyone gets on my case for being a snoop, I'd like to point out that I do not, under any circumstances, going looking for my presents. Sure, when I was a kid I used to like finding out what I was getting way ahead of time, but I've changed in my old age. Now, I enjoy the anticipation, the element of surprise. Premature Gift Revelation (PGR to the lay-person) just blows the whole thing.
Still, I don't think Mrs. Joe and I have celebrated a single special occasion during the course of our 2+ year relationship without me discovering what at least one of my gifts was before the day of giving. Given an average of 4 gift-receiving days a year (birthday, Christmas, anniversary, and Father's Day), that puts me somewhere around 10 for 10 so far. Not bad odds, if you're a betting man. But, as amusing as this might be for me or you, I'm sensing that this trend is starting to annoy her. By "sensing" I mean I'm being told, loud and clear, and by "starting to" I mean "has been for a long time but now she's finally saying something about it".
How do I do it, you might ask? Good question! At first, it was simply that she didn't know me well enough. You know, she wanted to get "just the right thing" for me, but was worried her interpretation of that would differ from mine. So, she'd either ask too many questions about a particular item, or genre of items, and tip me off, or just come right out and ask me to help her pick something out. See? Not my fault.
Then it changed to her knowing me too well. She'd buy something for me, knowing that it was exactly what I'd want, then I'd be in the same store with her a few days later and go to buy the exact same thing for myself! Of course, she could have just let me buy it and then return her purchase when I wasn't around, but I think she really, really wanted to be the one who figured out the perfect gift first, so she couldn't help but tell me. Again, not my fault.
Lately, though, things have gone from bad to worse. Just last week, I actually found out about 2 Christmas presents she had bought for me. Can you believe it? Who the heck buys Christmas presents in September? That's what the final week of sales before Christmas Eve are for! Anyway, I think this latest infraction was the straw that broke the camel's back, as they say. She's absolutely had it with me and my "dumb luck", but it's just so comical to me, especially considering the eloquent mixture of bad planning on her part and good intentions on mine that led to the most recent PGR incident.
First, there was that really cold morning last week... I take the bus to work, but I noticed her windshield was covered in frost, so I decided to be a good boyfriend and scrape it off for her before I left. Now, she normally keeps the scraper in the back hatch, so I went rummaging around in there. Little did I know there was a gift hidden under the emergency blanket... A gift that will remain nameless because it can still go to someone else in the family, and there's no sense having that person experience PGR as a result of my blog.
Then, not more than a day later, after showering up before work, instead of leaving my towel in a heap on the bathroom floor, I actually put it in the laundry hamper... right on top of the shirts she had hidden in there. Seriously. Now, either she didn't think these hiding places through very well, or she thinks I'm an inconsiderate slob who would never go near those places without being expressly told to do so. For my own sense of pride, I'm going to have to go with the former.
Okay, so now that the grievance has been aired to an impartial court of our peers (more or less), she wants to know what she should do about this situation. I've already suggested what I think are better hiding places, but I don't think she trusts me anymore... not about this anyway. So, go ahead, let her know what you think, and I'll try not to read any of your comments...
(wink, wink, nudge, nudge)
Apparently, I've led her to believe I have this clarion voice that reaches the masses. I guess I've somehow given her the impression that there are hoards of people who rush to my blog everyday, just to read whatever clever, witty, amusing, or sarcastic thing popped into my head the night before.
And we'll just keep letting her believe those things, won't we?
Anyway, here's the thing: It would seem that my girlfriend (who will forever afterward be referred to as "Mrs. Joe" because typing "my girlfriend" over and over again is becoming tiresome and lame) is having a hard time buying me gifts. Not that she has any difficulty with the actual shopping part... No way. She's got that down to a science. In fact, I suspect that there are things girls are taught in Jr. High Home Ec that us guys totally miss while we're busy making ashtrays and paperweights in Shop class (because those are skills that no man can go through life without...).
It seems that the problem lies not in the spending of the money on the merchandise, but in keeping the purchased merchandise a secret from Yours Truly. And before anyone gets on my case for being a snoop, I'd like to point out that I do not, under any circumstances, going looking for my presents. Sure, when I was a kid I used to like finding out what I was getting way ahead of time, but I've changed in my old age. Now, I enjoy the anticipation, the element of surprise. Premature Gift Revelation (PGR to the lay-person) just blows the whole thing.Still, I don't think Mrs. Joe and I have celebrated a single special occasion during the course of our 2+ year relationship without me discovering what at least one of my gifts was before the day of giving. Given an average of 4 gift-receiving days a year (birthday, Christmas, anniversary, and Father's Day), that puts me somewhere around 10 for 10 so far. Not bad odds, if you're a betting man. But, as amusing as this might be for me or you, I'm sensing that this trend is starting to annoy her. By "sensing" I mean I'm being told, loud and clear, and by "starting to" I mean "has been for a long time but now she's finally saying something about it".
How do I do it, you might ask? Good question! At first, it was simply that she didn't know me well enough. You know, she wanted to get "just the right thing" for me, but was worried her interpretation of that would differ from mine. So, she'd either ask too many questions about a particular item, or genre of items, and tip me off, or just come right out and ask me to help her pick something out. See? Not my fault.
Then it changed to her knowing me too well. She'd buy something for me, knowing that it was exactly what I'd want, then I'd be in the same store with her a few days later and go to buy the exact same thing for myself! Of course, she could have just let me buy it and then return her purchase when I wasn't around, but I think she really, really wanted to be the one who figured out the perfect gift first, so she couldn't help but tell me. Again, not my fault.
Lately, though, things have gone from bad to worse. Just last week, I actually found out about 2 Christmas presents she had bought for me. Can you believe it? Who the heck buys Christmas presents in September? That's what the final week of sales before Christmas Eve are for! Anyway, I think this latest infraction was the straw that broke the camel's back, as they say. She's absolutely had it with me and my "dumb luck", but it's just so comical to me, especially considering the eloquent mixture of bad planning on her part and good intentions on mine that led to the most recent PGR incident.
First, there was that really cold morning last week... I take the bus to work, but I noticed her windshield was covered in frost, so I decided to be a good boyfriend and scrape it off for her before I left. Now, she normally keeps the scraper in the back hatch, so I went rummaging around in there. Little did I know there was a gift hidden under the emergency blanket... A gift that will remain nameless because it can still go to someone else in the family, and there's no sense having that person experience PGR as a result of my blog.
Then, not more than a day later, after showering up before work, instead of leaving my towel in a heap on the bathroom floor, I actually put it in the laundry hamper... right on top of the shirts she had hidden in there. Seriously. Now, either she didn't think these hiding places through very well, or she thinks I'm an inconsiderate slob who would never go near those places without being expressly told to do so. For my own sense of pride, I'm going to have to go with the former.
Okay, so now that the grievance has been aired to an impartial court of our peers (more or less), she wants to know what she should do about this situation. I've already suggested what I think are better hiding places, but I don't think she trusts me anymore... not about this anyway. So, go ahead, let her know what you think, and I'll try not to read any of your comments...
(wink, wink, nudge, nudge)
Monday, September 12, 2005
It's Uncle Cuppojoe To You, Kid...
That's right... There's a new leaf on the old Family Tree. Specifically, another nephew for Yours Truly. You see, my kid sister has gone and had a kid of her own. Okay, at 22, I can hardly call her a "kid" anymore, but, come on! I can still remember giving her her bottle and changing her diaper when Mom got too busy or too tired!
(In order to avoid almost certain insomnia, I will no longer dwell on the former action in that sentence... And neither will you.)
So, this past weekend, the girlfriend and I packed up my daughter and went on down to visit the new little guy. Had to see what he thought of his first three days, you know? Not to mention introducing him to the cousin who will be setting him up with her friends and sneaking him into bars 17 years from now.
A pleasant drive, it was... What with the pitch-black of the Alberta countryside, the driving rain, the worn windshield wipers, and the oncoming traffic that just couldn't be bothered to dim their high-beams. I couldn't just wait and do the 2-hour trip in the morning, could I? No way! Had to get there as soon as possible. But apparently not soon enough to meet up with the rest of the family before they went to bed...
Did you know that there aren't any restaurants open past 11 o'clock in certain small Alberta cities? We didn't. And did you know that large hotel chains in said cities prefer to give their night managers the weekends off in favor of staffing the front desk with trainees unable to perform a check-in for guests in under 45 minutes? Again, neither did we. On the plus side, it only took them 15 minutes to check us out the next morning. Pretty good for newbies, if you ignore the fact that we're still waiting for them to process our Air Miles...
What? Me, bitter? No...
The weekend brightened up as soon as we saw the new addition to the family, though. Cute little guy, really. Loads of black hair and (from what I was told about a dozen times) a really clear complexion. They didn't think my sister was giving birth to a teenager, did they? And he didn't have much to say but, what with wise-cracking clowns like my brother in the family, I think he was probably just playing it safe. Oh! And the grandparents were out in full force, oohing and ahhing over the baby, pointing out all the features that made him "just like his Mom" or "Daddy's little man"...
There should be a longer unit on genetics in High School biology...
One of the highlights had to be when the new Dad was asked what it was like to be in the delivery room when his son was born... All he could say was, "I'm glad I'm not a woman!"
Amen to that... And I'm sure my sister's glad you're not, too!
Anyway, now that the weekend is over and I'm back in town, all I have to do is go through the 300 or so pictures I took of each and every member of the family holding the baby, and walking with the baby, and feeding the baby, and burping the baby, and...
"What's that? Grandpa is holding him in his left arm now? Quick! Throw me my camera!"
(In order to avoid almost certain insomnia, I will no longer dwell on the former action in that sentence... And neither will you.)
So, this past weekend, the girlfriend and I packed up my daughter and went on down to visit the new little guy. Had to see what he thought of his first three days, you know? Not to mention introducing him to the cousin who will be setting him up with her friends and sneaking him into bars 17 years from now.
A pleasant drive, it was... What with the pitch-black of the Alberta countryside, the driving rain, the worn windshield wipers, and the oncoming traffic that just couldn't be bothered to dim their high-beams. I couldn't just wait and do the 2-hour trip in the morning, could I? No way! Had to get there as soon as possible. But apparently not soon enough to meet up with the rest of the family before they went to bed...
Did you know that there aren't any restaurants open past 11 o'clock in certain small Alberta cities? We didn't. And did you know that large hotel chains in said cities prefer to give their night managers the weekends off in favor of staffing the front desk with trainees unable to perform a check-in for guests in under 45 minutes? Again, neither did we. On the plus side, it only took them 15 minutes to check us out the next morning. Pretty good for newbies, if you ignore the fact that we're still waiting for them to process our Air Miles...
What? Me, bitter? No...
The weekend brightened up as soon as we saw the new addition to the family, though. Cute little guy, really. Loads of black hair and (from what I was told about a dozen times) a really clear complexion. They didn't think my sister was giving birth to a teenager, did they? And he didn't have much to say but, what with wise-cracking clowns like my brother in the family, I think he was probably just playing it safe. Oh! And the grandparents were out in full force, oohing and ahhing over the baby, pointing out all the features that made him "just like his Mom" or "Daddy's little man"...
There should be a longer unit on genetics in High School biology...
One of the highlights had to be when the new Dad was asked what it was like to be in the delivery room when his son was born... All he could say was, "I'm glad I'm not a woman!"
Amen to that... And I'm sure my sister's glad you're not, too!
Anyway, now that the weekend is over and I'm back in town, all I have to do is go through the 300 or so pictures I took of each and every member of the family holding the baby, and walking with the baby, and feeding the baby, and burping the baby, and...
"What's that? Grandpa is holding him in his left arm now? Quick! Throw me my camera!"
Friday, September 2, 2005
Photo of the Week: Liquid Color
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