O Yard Sale, Free Us From the Clutter

For years my wife has talked about having a yard sale. For years, she has stuffed things into the attic, the shed or the loft — not to mention my sock drawer, my closet, my desk, the car, the utility room, the pantry and a closet packed so tight that we have since boarded it up and plastered it over to keep it from exploding. All this saving has been in anticipation of an imaginary garage sale she figured would one day whisk down out of the heavens and solve our clutter and junk problems. But it has never come. So things piled up. Let me be honest here, I’m just as guilty. I can’t just place blame. Whenever I had something I thought I might need in the future, say a guitar with a broken neck or some old used reporter’s notebooks, I threw them in a box in the attic. What I would use them for in the future, I have no idea.

Continue Reading

A Hobo Runner No More

Goodbye days of the hobo runner, I have new running clothes. And if I don’t mind saying so, I look like an Olympic track star. Truth is, I’ve never looked like any kind of athlete while out running. Maybe an athlete mauled by a bear. But that’s not to say I’m a bad runner. I’m pretty good — I finish OK in races and I’m starting to do some early training for October’s Marine Corps Marathon in Washington D.C. (I’m registered, so only an injury — self-inflicted if-must-be — will get me out of it now.) I’m a fairly good runner with a lot to be proud of. But while the rest of the world exercises in special track suits, designer duds, and aerodynamic, flashy threads, I always looked more like a fraternity brother after a long night … of being mauled by a bear. I have runner’s shorts with bleach stains on them and elastic that so long ago disintegrated that you have to wear them with suspenders or duct tape them to your waste. Sometimes when I wear them, the only way to keep them up is to hold on to them in the front, which makes for awkward strides and an odd running style. Passersby must look at me and think, “There goes a guy who really has to use the bathroom.” It was time for new running shorts. My socks started getting far too many holes in them. My toes would work their way through those […]

Continue Reading

Thanks, Media, for One More Worry

Great. Just Great. Leave it to the news media to go out and cover a story that never, ever, in any form should have been covered. Sometimes it just takes a little self-control and public decency. It takes knowing that you shouldn’t do it because you will scare the ear wax out of people the minute you apply the ink to the newsprint. And this story did it: “Doctor finds spiders in ear of boy with earache.” Son of a biscuit! It ran everywhere, from here in The Record to CNN and USA Today. If you missed it, a boy who had been complaining of a popping sound in his ear went to the doctor where his ear was flushed out, turning up two spiders — one still among the living. They were living quite peacefully in there — had a condo association, were ordering furniture from an online retailer and in general had it about as good as you can when you’re living in the ear of a 9-year-old that hasn’t been cleaned since birth. The popping noise, the boy said, was the sound of them walking around on his eardrum, probably doing the rumba or throwing keg parties.

Continue Reading

Hey Dog, Time to Start Eating

“Chase dog, eat your food,” I say standing over the bowl of dry kibble, looming over the dog who often reminds me she doesn’t speak English. Remembering this, I phrase it a different way, expecting this time it will have greater effect or impact: “Eat your food, Chase dog.” For some reason, it doesn’t work. She merely sits on the floor in the morning staring at me. “Eat! There are starving children in China.” Why don’t these lines work on her? Why isn’t she eating? The dog’s face seems to tell me she would rather have a deranged poodle yank all her hair out than eat these pathetic looking rabbit pellets. “No thank you, I’ll go without.” It’s been cause for concern in my house. The dog is healthy and spry. She looks like a puppy, except for the weathered gray she’s getting on her face. She’s full of energy, has a youthful disposition and can jump like the ground’s on fire. Her weight is good and hasn’t changed. Our vet even thinks she’s in remarkably good health for a girl her age –about 10 — and she exercises regularly. Physically she’s fine. Medically, just as good. “So what is it?” we’ve wondered, sitting at the dinner table. It’s a mystery.

Continue Reading