Ticket Trials

Tuesday, 19 August 2008

I man­aged to get sea­son tick­ets to the Notre Dame home games this year. This year it al­so looks like I won’t be able to go to any of them. Having a five-mon­th old and lim­it­ed child-care op­tions will do that to you. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to en­ter the lot­tery, even with my Monogram Club mem­ber­ship. Membership dues for alum­ni who’ve been grad­u­at­ed for over sev­en years went up to $300 a year.

I tried to share my Pitt tick­ets with my friend Chas, but his grand­moth­er is hav­ing her 90th birth­day cel­e­bra­tion that week­end. My alum­ni friend Liam didn’t have time to en­ter the alum­ni lot­tery this year, but he wants the tick­ets to the Pitt game to meet up with some oth­er alum­ni friends.

The rest of the tick­ets are go­ing to my un­cle. Corbin is prob­a­bly the biggest ND fan in the fam­i­ly, and he sub­si­dizes my tick­et or­der­ing [which amount­ed to $800 this year]. I re­al­ly on­ly ever want to go to one home game per year, so he al­ways takes the rest of what­ev­er I get. He laid dibs on the Michigan tick­ets right away.

Basically I jumped through all the hoops that I usu­al­ly do, but don’t get a pay­off this year. No va­ca­tion, no ND foot­ball game, its a good thing I have a baby to play with.

Taxi Driver

Wednesday, 6 August 2008

A wannabe Travis Bickle in a green-col­ored van-taxi tried to kill me on my ride home from work to­day. It tried to squeeze me off of the road three times, the last time it cut me off, slammed on its brakes, and went up on the curb. Apart from bless­ing him with a few choice words and the ubiq­ui­tous hand bene­dic­tion, and there­by amus­ing the hell out of a car­ful of peo­ple in the oth­er lane, there wasn’t much I could do. I was too busy try­ing not to crash to get the num­ber of the cab, or even the cab company’s name. So if you know which cab com­pa­ny dri­ves forest green ve­hi­cles, let me know. I’d like to give their man­age­ment a piece of my mind too, since they al­most got a lot more than a pound of my flesh.

NewTsunami

Sunday, 3 August 2008

With all of the stuff I’ve been up to late­ly, do­ing a bit of writ­ing has fal­l­en by the wayside. Work on the house is still in­com­plete, but has slowed down be­cause what re­mains isn’t crit­i­cal quite yet. Once all of the paint­ing is com­plete, and I’ve man­aged to get all of the doors re­hung, there will be pic­tures.

I’ve gone to see The Dark Knight, which was the first time since Abraham graced us with his pres­ence that Debbie and I man­aged to get out alone. I went to the zoo, where the boy and I be­came an ex­hibit to all of the wom­en around when Debbie went to the re­stroom. I went to Whiskey Island on Friday af­ter­noon for a pic­nic, took a walk by my­self to get some alone time with na­ture, watched swal­low bug-catch­ing, a swal­low-heck­ling ori­ole, and played with a ground­hog for a lit­tle while.

Last Monday my of­fice was one of the three County of­fices raid­ed by the FBI and IRS-CID as a part of their in­ves­ti­ga­tion in­to cor­rup­tion by County of­fi­cials. Apparently they came over the in­ter­com and told folks to go to the can­teen [which is what every­where else is called a lunch room]. The de­sign room keeps the over­head speak­er turned off be­cause we’d rather not lis­ten to the best in soft rock from the 80s, 90s and now, so I didn’t hear the an­nounce­ment. I hap­pened to be both on my com­put­er and on the phone, both no-nos, when the FBI knocked on the door. I’d al­ready man­aged to tell Debbie every­thing she need­ed to know to get the scan­ner at home work­ing though, so it was no big deal.

I went to the can­teen, where every­one else was, and filled out a sheet that asked for ba­sic in­for­ma­tion and job du­ties, and then got to take the rest of the day off.

Abraham's TreeWhen my mom rolled up here for the 4th of July, we plant­ed a tree for Abraham. I had a tree plant­ed for me when I was born as well. I even wrote about it for Young Authors, so you can read that here. Although that pic­ture is from a mon­th ago, Abraham is al­ready much big­ger, I’d say near 12 pounds. He’s start­ed smil­ing and chuck­ling a lit­tle, and I can ac­tu­al­ly sort of play with him now. The on­ly rough part is that when I’m at work he’s in his best mood, so when I come home I get to in­ter­act with him for the part of the day when he’s at his worst. It gets frus­trat­ing at times.

I got sea­son tick­ets to the Notre Dame foot­ball games this year, blessed be my mono­gram. I don’t know that I’ll be able to get to more than one of them, how­ev­er.

The weath­er has been won­der­ful, and to­day looks as if it will con­tin­ue that pat­tern. Dinner is a dai­ly choice be­tween eat­ing on the porch or watch­ing some old school Muppet Show episodes. I re­cent­ly dis­cov­ered that I can get Mr. Wizard on DVD as well. Abraham’s go­ing to talk to folks at school about the­se crazy shows that aren’t on TV any­more and no-one is go­ing to know what he’s talk­ing about ex­cept his teach­ers.

I haven’t been to a rock and roll show in forever. It hurts.