The Cauldon Extinguished

Well, another Olympics has come and gone, and I'm wondering what the heck I'm going to watch on television. After all, I've gotten accustomed to having them on TV (when I'm home)practically 24-7 the last two weeks.

A couple things came out of this for me. First of all, being the music geek that I am, I've come to really like the tune of "Oh Canada." It's really pretty. Not to say that in any way, shape, or form that I'm not proud of the United States' efforts or my country in general. There's just something about the tune, "The Star Spangled Banner" that I've just never been fond of.

Why you may ask? Well, it sounds really militaristic to me, and not really reverent. I'm no peacenik by any means, but in this day in age, I think something along the lines of "America" or "God Bless America" are a bit more attractive tunes,express a more reverent patriotism, and last but not least more easily singable. After all, how many times have you actually gone somewhere where "The Star Spangled Banner" actually was sung well, and either 1) not cheapened by the unnecessary vocal flourishes that some pop or R & B stars tend to add, or 2) the person actually remembers all the words (in it's archaic poetry form). To me, most times our national anthem, when sung like this, is more like "The Star Mangled Banner." In any event, I am proud of our Olympians. They ALL did the U.S.A. proud.

The second thing that came out of this two weeks of sport was the fact that I'm pretty ignorant about Canada. I've always thought of Canada (which I fondly call "Canadia")like us. We share a similar heritage and origin, a common language that for the most part, with the exception of Quebec, has an accent that sounds like how we talk at home. I also thought of Canada as very vast, very sparse, and very cold. I'd probably love to visit it more often. Unfortunately though, it's located north of Madison. To me, anything north of Madison is considered the north woodsy, and I'm not a big fan of fishing or camping. The last thing is that we've just always been close neighbors and friends to our friends to the north.

It's much more than that. I had a history lesson (especially the piece about how Canada was a godsend during 9/11), a geography lesson from the torch relay (in which I don't EVER think I want to visit Iqaluit in Nunavut as I'm not to crazy about eating whale blubber or seal), and a cultural lesson, where Canada is full of wonderful people that don't mind taking in strangers from all over the world, are hospitable to anyone and everyone, and seems like one big happy family (with some minor elements of family dysfunction like ANY family).

The last thing that came out of it for me is to say to any athlete competing in the Olympics, that there is something to be proud of when one wins ANY color of medal. A fraction of a percent of people on this earth ever GET to the Olympics, and then to win a medal on top of that is like winning the super mega lottery. Sure, I was disappointed that the U.S. hockey team lost, but the looks and demeanor of the hockey team receiving their silver medals didn't really sit well with me. Or the poor attitude of a disgruntled Russian figure skater, or Korean speed skater kind of frosts me. Perhaps they don't live on the same earth I do.

Hopefully this experience will broaden my understanding of our friends to the north, because certainly, they are incredible neighbors and friends to have.

Heavy Duty

As I'm sitting here at about 11:15 p.m. on a Friday night, several things are shooting through my brain. The first thought is that I haven't kept up with this blog thing very well. Much like many plants in my home, I'm feeling like this blog thing is withering on the vine, as I haven't watered or fed it with new material or stupid stuff to talk about to bring it back to it's resplendent green, healthy hue that will make it look fresh and new again.

I don't know what prompted me to think about it, but, the fact of the matter is: I miss french fries.

You see, my friends, since the middle of January I have been participating in what I'd like to think could be called an experiment...a biological one. Early in the year this year at work, a couple of the people I work with thought it would be a great idea if we, as a group, would participate in a contest to be "the biggest losers." Normally, I don't consider myself remotely close to being a loser by any means, but in this case I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to try. After all, who doesn't (except if you happen to be Callista Flockhart, J.J. Walker, or a concentration camp survivor) want to lose a few pounds.

I was a little hesitant to start.

I have to admit: I LOVE french fries. No matter how greasy, salty, hot or cold, I love them. And this contest that I was about to commit to would force me to forgo this vice. Then after stepping back (and having been forced to step on a scale at the doctor's office), I realized that perhaps it would be a good idea to start my Lenten fast early, and give up my french fries. I went ahead with participating on this "loser" team,reluctantly, and begrudgingly.

So I committed to this scientific experiment, even though I didn't know how I would ever live without my french fries.....mmmm...plain, a hint of salt, crispy and greasy.

Hurdle number one came when I was informed that one of my co-workers would have to weigh me. Now, anyone that knows me well knows that I am and have always been HUGELY self conscious about my weight, even when I weighed what seemed to be 3 1/2 pounds in high school and had all my hair. All morning long I stewed about it. I probably should have had three extra shirts that day, because I was sweating like Mike Tyson in a spelling be by the time I had to be weighed. Several people offered to do the official weighing and recording, NONE of whom were even remotely a viable option. So after settling for the one person we all could feel comfortable having do this horrid task, we (7 of the 9 people in my office who are participating)proceeded to have the grand "weigh in."

Then...it was my turn. I felt like Sean Penn in "Dead Man Walking."

Tasting the iron-like biley taste in my mouth, I was afraid I was going to lose whatever was in my stomach (which probably would only have been a pot of coffee)and not be anywhere NEAR being somewhere where I wouldn't make a scene....and a mess.

Let's just say that from the initial "weigh in" (and this term cracks me up, since all I could think about was me being entered into a boxing contest, only to be the horrificly unprepared super mega ginormous heavyweight entering the ring with King Kong, knowing that inevitably I'd be getting my ass kicked in a matter of 3 nanoseconds), it somewhat relieved my need (and obsessive craving) for french fries.

I have no idea where this whole process will end up, but I'm liking the fact that things are working. Perhaps I should take peoples' advice and try skydiving to cure my fear of heights....then again, I think I'll pass on that. After all, I don't need to be changing EVERYTHING.

Internal Combustion- Two Ways

It's amazing how money just flows in and out of my hands, especially on unforseen things that happen to pop up when you least expect it.

Last week, it started with my furnace. It was a Sunday evening, and I was sitting at the computer. I was checking my email, playing a game, and checking things out on facebook when I smelled something to the likes of burnt plastic, electricity, and dust. This wasn't a pleasant smell.

I couldn't tell if my house was on fire or not, as my greyhounds (being the lazy hounds they are) were snoozing away. I went downstairs, checked things out, and came to the realization that maybe my air ducts needed to be cleaned.

Well, the smell didn't go away.

I went to the basement, and everything seemed in order. I let my hounds out, as by now they were prancing around the house, thinking that it would be a splendid time to go out, even IF it was -8 degrees outside. It made me wish I had a different house that had a backyard instead of a fenced side yard that I have, as each time I have to let them out, I have to walk them to it. I wasn't happy.

The three of us came back inside, only to still smell the funny electrical plasticky smell. It also felt colder in my house. I checked the thermostat to find that instead of being a balmy 68, it was now 65. This wasn't a good sign. It was especially not good, since it was now about 1 a.m., and not having heat was an issue.
I thought I'd be resourceful and try to fix things myself, so I checked the internet to see if there was something I could do to diagnose the problem. Flipping the breaker (even though it wasn't blown) seemed to kick the furnace in again. And I got a MAJOR dose of the burnt plastic smell again. I thought I would go upstairs and just go to bed.

After lying in bed for about 10 minutes, and stewing about the fact that I was probably going to be asphyxiated by carbon monoxide (being the fatalist I can sometimes be), and worried about how my house would look if someone were to find me, I got up and called the furnace hotline where I got my furnace.

Pavlik Heating and Cooling has a 24 hour service line as I soon found out, and was greeted by a very pleasant man who, after asking a slew of questions, thought it best that I talk to the technician on call. Two minutes later, the guy called. It sounded like he had been awaken from a deep slumber, which made me feel terrible. Unlike me, he was quite pleasant to talk to after being jolted awake by the phone.

Seeing as there wasn't really a whole lot that could be done over the phone, he said he'd be willing to stop over and check the furnace right away. It was now about 1:45 a.m., and I couldn't really justify calling the poor man out, when I would be getting up in a matter of a couple of hours. So I told the guy not to worry, so long as someone came to my house right away in the morning, I said I'd throw on a couple extra blankets on the bed, and that my two hounds would probably end up sleeping with me anyhow, so I would be fine.

Well, waking up, I could just about see my breath. The thermostat was 54. I like a cold house, but 54 is just a bit much.

The technician came later that morning, to discover that my thermostat had gone bad, and that some air flow duct thing was shorted out (hence the electrical smell). $250later, I had heat, and I was happy. It certainly was better than having to have a new furnace.

Well, the next evening, I had fallen asleep on the sofa, and must have placed my new glasses on the end table. Well, waking up in the morning, my glasses went missing. Searching for them all over the house, I went upstairs to find that they were a midnight snack for my greyhound, Siri. I was only able to find about 2/3 of my glasses, with one bow missing (and I am a bit concerned since it is made out of metal). Collecting the 4 pieces of chewed plastic and broken lenses (with a nice canine tooth mark in the middle of one of the lenses), I had to call my optometrist to see if I could get them replaced with exactly the same frames and lenses (after all, I LOVED my glasses).

Low and behold, the assistant at the office must have caught me on a good day, as somehow she convinced me to purchase additional warranty coverage in case something like what I experienced happened. I was a happy guy. All I had to do was to take in the remnants of what was left of my glasses, and I would just have to pay a minimal amount.

Bringing them to the office, they looked at the pitiful pieces on the counter that were my glasses, and laughed. Replacement of the glasses cost me about $80.

The bigger concern however is: I don't know if I want to know where that metal bow is. I'm hoping I find it in the spring in the house, rather than randomly finding it with the lawnmower.

Then again, I'm hoping I don't have to shell out more cash for an unexpected vet bill.

When it rains, it pours....