Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Vacation Finale and Recap

Well, my annual vacation to wild, wonderful, Whitehouse Ohio is now but another memory.  I made it home safely and without incident, although we did get bounced around during our Baltimore approach.  It was probably just turbulence emanating from Washington DC.

Still, I can’t help but feel like I left with some work left undone.
You can see my leftover Myles Pizza box in there too, but that made the trip home with me.

I’ve never left that much beer behind.  We seriously overbought for the party and then barely put a dent on the leftover beer.  We kept one batch on ice for 3-4 days and I worked on it every night, but it seemed like it never got any emptier.  Between the leftover beer and the leftover BBQ, it was like staying at a theme park dedicated to the Seven Deadly Sins.

The Sloth and Gluttony were givens.  It there would have been an actual sloth in the garage, he’d be like, “Damn, dude, get going…”

For Wrath, Rik was still pretty pissed that all his bar-sluts never showed up for the party.  For Greed, we really didn’t need two Myles Pizzas, but I wanted to be sure I had plenty to bring home with me.  For Envy, I was certainly envious of my buddy’s neighbor that had the great house and hot wife.  For Lust, see “Envy.”

The only one I think we’re lacking is Pride.  When you’re this slothful and gluttonous, it’s hard to be very proud.  Sitting out there in the Dad Cave, surrounded by beer and meat, I can’t imagine I would seem like much of a ‘catch’ to any passing hotties.  I suppose I can settle for being proud of how much water I can displace, sitting in the tub.

Fortunately, there’s one benefit to growing older…

Our last ‘big’ event was Friday when John and I did a little fishing in the local quarry. 
Whitehouse Quarry

Back when I lived there, it used to be a great place to swim, but that’s forbidden now.  In fact, it had been all closed up for years.  Recently opened, I was sure that it would be packed with fish and that we would be out catching dinner.  But I was wrong.

The fish were out there, but apparently had held a meeting to discuss how best to annoy us.  In fact, I’m sure they held that meeting directly surrounding every piece of bait I threw out there.  I could see them in the clear water, encircling my drowning worm and discussing which one of them should take the tiniest peck at it and then disappear.

Little fuckers made me look like Carl Spackler in Caddyshack.
License to kill bluegills, by the Government of the United Nations.  Man free to catch bluegills at will.”

For over 5 hours I sat out there on my perch, gazing into the blue water.  It really was a pretty cool spot.  I had a nice place up on the top of a 6-foot rock wall.

I was pretty sure that the only reason they kept pecking the worm was so that I’d have to replace it frequently, which meant I’d poke my finger with the hook about 7000 times.

Most of the perimeter was made up of rock-wall so you had to be on your toes, so to not accidentally tumble in.  The fact that you couldn't take any beer there, helped my odds of staying dry immensely. 

Well, dry from the quarry water, sure.  While the temperature was pretty comfy in the mid-80s, the sun beating down on my back was still troublesome.  Luckily, I had some sun block with me so I was able to protect my arms, legs and neck.  Unfortunately, I forgot about one spot.  I’d figured my ball cap would keep my melon from getting scorched and it pretty much did… except for that open half-moon space in the back, over the adjustable band.  If I still had the hair up there that I did when I was a teenager, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but alas, that’s a long way behind me.  So for the next couple days, I had a nice half-moon shaped sunburned patch on the back of my head.  Nice.

During our last hour, I finally got a fish on the line… a little rock bass.
Ernest Hemmingway, I ain’t.

John had caught two earlier, so I was glad to at least get on the board, but none of our prized catches were keepers.  We went home as empty-handed as we’d come.

So for about the 4th or 5th time, we went out to Shawn’s Irish Tavern for a meal.  (It had been a frequent stop for mid-day beers and lunches.)  Honestly, if the food weren’t so good (and cheap) we wouldn’t have kept going back.

After that, we stopped by the ‘other’ bar in town, Mad Anthony’s.  Unfortunately, it was karaoke night.  Did you feel that breeze Friday night?  That was the corpse of Elvis, spinning rapidly in his grave.

You know, when a karaoke business in set up in a place that houses very few people that can carry a tune, they really ought to have a special playlist of songs that don’t require actual singing.  Like “instrumentals” would be good… songs like “Green Onions” “Frankenstein” or “One Step Beyond.”  Or you could use “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” the Blues Brothers “Rubber Biscuit” or any song by Johnny Cash.

I told the bartender that she must have the best seat in the bar, because she gets to look at the faces of everyone there as they cringe during the painful parts.

One thing I saw in the Dad Cave sent me straight into a painful flashback:

My dad used to have one just like this when I was a small boy.  He’d cut the grass and my job would be to clip along the fence where the mower couldn’t quite reach.  I don’t think he really cared about the grass; he was actually trying to turn me into an 8-year old ringer at a Lumberjack Arm-Wrestling Contest.  Man, I hated that thing.  I’d be out there clipping and snipping until my arm fell off and my hand applied for asylum on someone else’s body. 

He probably just wanted to build some character.  And guess what?  I am one now.

So while I was happy to get back to my own comfy, queen-sized bed, I always hated leaving those tranquil evenings.  That far from a city, you can really see the stars and hear the quiet.  As we sat in the garage, it could be hours between cars driving by.  A guy enjoying a couple of beers out there can go pee on the lawn without any chance of being seen.

There’s nothing like simple country living.

Director's DVD Commentary: I wasn't sure I was even going to be able to do any posts while I was away; that's why I set up the reruns to post.  My concern was getting my new camera to work on my buddy's Mac, without having to install any software.  I usually just remove the memory card and stick it in the slot on my PC, but I knew his Mac didn't have that slot.

As it turned out, he'd just gotten a new printer, that DID have the memory card slot, so I was back in business.  But wait... the pictures were straight from my camera, so they'd be about 2 MB each.  I didn't want to load that much weight on my blog-use photo album (lest I run out of space) and among all his fancy Mac photo gizmos, I didn't see anything to reduce photo size.

But!  I figured out that I could load the shots I wanted to use from his Mac to my Flickr account, then reference the html code from the blog.  That way I could use all the pictures I wanted, without housing the large files.  I know that might be 'everyday' procedure for you, but it was new to me and I was happy that I figured it out.  

You may have even noticed that my traditional format was broken on those posts... the pictures and captions were all left-justified.  I always center them, like with this post.  Still, I was glad just to be able to bang out those updates for you in a timely manner.  Apologies for overloading your senses with 5 posts in 5 days.  I think that's a record for me.


The Reverend said...

Damn, that sounds like a great trip. Seeing all that left over beer put a tear in my eye.

Jessica R. said...

"Did you feel that breeze Friday night? That was the corpse of Elvis, spinning rapidly in his grave."
That cracked me up.

Glad you had a great trip! You're making me want to take a vacation.

Judie said...

Dude, that is a LOT of beer to leave behind! At our golf club last Feb., a St. Paddy's Day party was held but no one showed up. Sad, because the gen. manager had ordered kegs of bright green beer. Several months later, the men's group was having an outing, and the gen. manager offered the kegs for the party. One guy wanted to know if it was still good!

Cassie said...

Personally, I appreciate all the beer, and then at the very top, out of reach, are the kids' drinks.

bluzdude said...

Mine too… I’m used to finishing what’s put in front of me. But on the bright side, my buddy’s not going to have to buy beer for a very long time.

I actually tweeted that from the bar. As you can see, I take my recycling seriously.

I know I joke about the sloth, but after working hard all year, there is value in taking a vacation to essentially do nothing. Recharges the batteries… or at least gets them all liquored up.

Well, I know it will go to good use. The Dad Cave will be stocked for the foreseeable future.

The best part about green beer? Green pee. (And I don’t mean green peas. Or Greenpeace.)

The beer has to be down low or else we can’t send the kids to go get them for us. Otherwise, the kids aren’t supposed to be going into that fridge without permission. The fruit drinks are doled out by request.

Mrs. Bachelor Girl said...

Holy crap! That fridge looks like ours did the day after The Guy's bachelor party. We actually had a strict rule for about six months that no one was allowed to bring any beer whatsoever into this house for any reason, or they would face immediate ejection via my foot up their asses. It was THAT bad.

bluzdude said...

Mrs. Bachelor Girl,
I know, I was embarrassed to leave so much behind. But I did my best. However, it’s still a pretty good “problem” to have.

Anonymous said...

It was all that meat and pizza. Not enough room for more beer.

bluzdude said...

That's the truth. There were nights when I was so stuffed, the idea of more beer just didn't agree.

(So we drank Jack instead.)

Kernut the Blond said...

Umm, let me get this straight... you had left over beer (a lot) and left over pizza. It was the pizza you took home - on the plane?

I think I'm in love.

bluzdude said...

Believe me, I was interested in taking some beer home, but after considering the details, it just wasn't feasible. A) I barely had room in my suitcase for the T-shirts I bought out there, B) They might burst all over my suitcase, C) Carrying them separately would be freakin' heavy.

The pizza, on the other hand, could be wrapped and placed vertically in my shoulder bag, where a laptop would go (if I had one.)

Hey, during your cross-country adventures, you should stop through Bowling Green OH (right off I-75) and try a Myles Pizza for yourself. One large would feed you for a week.