I'm Going to England, Yo!

And it's on work's dime!

I'm sure you can hear me laughing with excitement! I spoke with my boss on Tuesday, and he told me about a bid walk-through at two plants in England that he was supposed to attend. Fortunately for me, his passport is expired. I jokingly told him I would be happy to go for him, and he took me seriously. He spoke with one of our vice presidents, and I got approval from my plant, and just found out about 15 minutes ago that I will be hopping over the Atlantic next week. I will be cutting my camping trip a day short, but it will be so worth the sacrifice.

I'm about jumping out of my skin with excitement!

"Big Ben, kids...Parliament..."

Death, Dying, and What I Learned From Uncle John

My uncle died yesterday morning. I usually can't handle the euphemisms - passed away, passed on, just plain old passed...it sounds like Monopoly, as if you get to collect $200. I suppose he did all of those things (with the exception of the $200), but really he died. And my heart aches because while it was time, it was just too soon. Mom called at 6:15 in the morning. I wandered around my apartment, carrying a box of Kleenex, and not using one because I didn't want to wipe the tears away, almost afraid that if I did, then I would somehow wipe away the reality of him dying. And I didn't want to fool myself.

I always hate when people try to canonize someone who has died. I understand the urge to focus on the positive aspects and essence of a person. But to ignore the dark side, the problems, the poor choices is to take away that person's humanity and strip them of some of the most important parts of their being.

My uncle was an alcoholic. Since I can remember, he always had a drink, and was often drunk. After Grandma and Grandpa died, it spiraled out of control at a rate that was stunning. I didn't see him have seizures like some of my family did. I didn't take him to the hospital. I didn't talk to him about how he should stop. He didn't want help for so long. He disappeared for so long. He eventually tried rehab, and eventually relapsed. I think the first time he saw Justin was when Justin was about 2 1/2 years old, but maybe it was sooner. It was summertime, and we were in the back yard at mom & dad's house, the home in which I grew up, playing in the sandbox. Some memories don't fade. And then I didn't see him for so long. I remember so vividly when I saw him next. My sister was getting married. I told my mom I didn't care if Johnny came or not - he made his choice to not be part of our family, so what the hell was I supposed to do about it? I was so angry that I couldn't even see that that was exactly why I thought I didn't care. It didn't strike me until several years later. After all, wasn't it wrong to be so angry? I saw Johnny talking to my dad, dressed in a suit and looking handsome. I walked over, and he gave me such a huge hug, and I just started bawling. I didn't want to let go. It was the only thing that made me cry that day. And I didn't see him for a quite some time after that.

He eventually quit drinking. He had been sober for 4 1/2 years. And he came back into our lives. And it was wonderful. As an adult, I had never spent time with my uncle when he was sober for a long period of time. I got to know him all over again. We had so much fun. What a treat to be around someone who appreciated my sardonic remarks so much. And how fantastic to play pinochle for hours and hours on end. That was my connection with my uncle. I know so many people who would never understand how a mere card game can seem so significant. But it was through that game that I got to know many people in my family. I learned how they thought, how they planned, how they used strategy, how they won, how they lost, and just how their minds worked - I could see the gears turning. We would talk nonstop, and then sometimes not at all. And we would laugh!

And so here I sit, with two fingers of whiskey over ice, almost in some kind of warped tribute to his downfall, but also to what made him my favorite uncle. I'm fine. I'll be fine. I know I'll be sad sometimes, and I know there's more tears to come. I think the hardest thing I had to do was call Sara and Kirk and tell them. They knew Johnny. I have considered these friends part of my family for a long time, and I know they liked and loved Johnny, too. It was just hard to feel the realness of telling them he died. They knew it was coming, and I did, too. But the reality is always something altogether different.

So, in an effort recognize and honor my uncle, here's what I learned from him:
-How to play pinochle. And how to play well.
-Stamina. You can't play just one game - it's sacrilege. If you're not going to commit to many hours, don't bother.
-"Don't worry about it" and "No problem" are appropriate responses for any concern at any time. I can't tell you how many times my uncle uttered those two phrases, and it would usually send me into fits of laughter, because it almost always indicated a near-catastrophe could happen, and watching the story unfold was sure to be entertaining. One particular time, when I heard it repeatedly, he decided to install a ceiling fan and light in my grandparents' living room. Seemingly harmless, right? He started the project roughly an hour before his flight was supposed to take off for his return to Florida. Yep, an hour. The craziest part is that he got it done, and got the the airport in the nick of time, all the while telling everyone "No problem...don't worry about it!"
-It's so easy to forgive and accept someone as they are, and take advantage of good times with them. I can't make anyone change. But I can decide how to respond. I told him many times that I loved him, and he told me the same, and I believe him. It was a good decision to not be angry, and not look back.

I'm just going to miss him.

Ahhh....Sweet Routine...

I just returned from a much-needed weekend away. I know - I've had several weekends away lately, and truth be told, I feel like I haven't had a weekend home here in Lansing in quite some time. But the last few weekends away seemed like more work in the realm of preparation. Camping over the 4th was a blast, but seriously, I can fill my Blazer with the seats down all on my own, which is a lot of work. This past weekend I headed up to Bill & Darla's lake house. Bill and Dar are my best friend Sara's parents, also known as my "other" parents. I've known them well over half my life at this point, and love them dearly. Sara and Jamey picked me up Friday evening, and we headed north.

So, what makes the lake house so relaxing? First and foremost, the company. Over the years, they've all become part of my family, and there is great comfort in that. Second, it's on the lake, which means playing on the boats and swimming all day (yes, I sunblocked like a demon - no sunburn to report!). There's also the hot tub. Last night, as everyone else went to bed, Jamey and I wandered out to the hot tub around 1:45 am (again, so much for resetting the sleep schedule) and stargazed for an hour. I think I counted six shooting stars. It was fantastic - quiet, beautiful, and perfect weather. And it's also a great place to go for walks. I went for a few soul-searching, mind-clearing walks this weekend, and decided I need to make it a point to do that more often. By the lake house, I can walk for an hour and not see another person or car, depending on the path I take. I often run into alot of deer, of course, though not literally. And it's so serene to just hear the crunch of my shoes on a gravel road while the wind is whipping through the trees that it sends me into a meditative state. I always hate coming home. It wasn't quite as bad this weekend, but we all are usually cranky and morose when we have to leave.

We made it back safely - Sara and Jamey dropped me off about an hour ago before continuing on to Farmington. As I watered my plants (which are still alive and thriving!), I thought about how nice it's going to be this week getting back to my normal-ish routine. I haven't been to water aerobics in a week and a half, and I'm looking forward to making it there this week. And I'm surprisingly looking forward to a five-day work week (ask me Wednesday how that's going...), because I have so much to catch up on from the holiday and short weeks lately. And assuming my master plan works, I'll be in town all weekend. Woohoo! No packing. No driving. No unpacking. Just a weekend in town. For as much as I enjoy time away, and crave and need it, time at home is important, too.

Adventures in Caseville: I Was Camping, Yo.

It's been a while since I've been in my own happy Blogland. I was camping, yo. After not enough sleep on Wednesday, and scrambling to get everything together Thursday morning, I finally had the ol' Blazer loaded and was on the road by 1pm to head to Sleeper State Park.

There were stops along the way to be sure. I popped into the DeWitt Meijer to pick up a few food items and a tarp for my tent. Around Laingsburg, I realized I forgot to throw my almost-famous Haystacks in the cooler. I was bummed that we would be without those little bits of Fiber One and Cookies & Cream Hershey bar goodness, but consoled myself by buying ingredients for S'Mores. About the time I hit Lapeer, I realized I forgot to pack towels. Doh! I was forced to stop at that bastion of all things wrong - WalMart. I have mixed emotions about my experience there - I found two fantastic beach towels and a cute little bag, perfect for trips to the beach, but I didn't want to be happy about my finds. I was dismayed to discover that in the great Michigan Thumb, WalMart is about all there is in terms of shopping. I feel sad for Thumb dwellers.

We set up three tents in short order and started our first of many bonfires. The weather was amazing - we had two beautiful days at the beach. I spent a lot of time slathered in SPF-45 for Babies Sunblock, floating on my rainbow-colored inner tube, obtained on a trip to Miami for the Janet Reno Dance Party Fundraiser. It's withstood the test of time over the last 6 years, and has made it to every camping trip since.

So, have I mentioned how much I hate raccoons? I was walking to the bathroom one night around midnight to brush my teeth and take out my contacts. I decided I really wanted to do a bit of stargazing - there was no light from the moon, and it was a clear night. The campground is wooded - there is a lot of tree cover throughout, which is great for camping to protect from the sun and rain, but terrible for looking up at the stars. I made my way to the entrance, where there is a host station, complete with picnic tables and benches, that is in a bit of a clearing. I sat down on a bench that was set off by itself a bit. I found the Big Dipper, which is the extent of my knowledge of astronomy, and innocently sat staring up. I heard a little rustle near my feet, but I didn't want to look down. The rustling got a bit closer, and I finally looked down to see five (yes, five!!) raccoons surrounding me in what can only be described as a war-like maneuver. I of course jumped, and tried to muffle a scream, and fortunately, the scary little mongrels waddled back into the woods, snorting the entire way. I quickly made my way to the bathroom, then back to the site, where I zipped myself into the tent, hoping that none of my ridiculous, irrational fears of raccoons would come to fruition. The next day, to my horror, I discovered an object next to the trash dumpsters. It was a 2" x 6" piece of wood, around 8 feet long, with what looked like small ladder rungs attached to the board. It was labeled, "Raccoon Ladder for Dumpster." I can only imagine the staff has to place the ladder in the dumpster so the not-so-bright raccoons that jump in with no way out can exit the dumpster safely, only to harass and pilfer the campsites some more. Have I mentioned I'm not fond of raccoons??

We took a drive to Port Austin for fireworks that were similar with LAFCU nights at Oldsmobile Park. The pictures are from our Port Austin adventure.

I was struck by the image of the tree against the end of the sunset, waiting for the fireworks to begin. It reminded me of my apartment, when I can see the outline of the trees at dusk that almost look as black as the night soon would be. The people on the RV / trailer just cracked me up. They certainly had the best seat in the house. And yes, that's Danielle, toking on a candy cigarette that Sheryl was dealing.

All in all, it was a fantastic trip.

Weebles.

I was at a barbecue today at the home of some dear friends with a young daughter. As I sat outside eating and chatting with friends, I noticed some Weebles sitting on the table. I've been a fidgeter for a long time, always needing to do something with my hands. When I was in high school, we used to hang out at the local Big Boy restaurant, where we would catch up with friends and figure out what craziness to pursue that evening. If we were there long enough, I would steal someone's lighter, and start to melt whatever crayons were on the table from whomever had sat there before us onto the old paper placemats, making some kind of design with the melted waxy substance. I play with the paper napkin rings at restaurants, or fold or shred paper napkins...anything to keep my hands busy. I guess when my hands are busy, my mind is, too, taking in conversations, mulling over scenarios, watching people. In the fine tradition and pattern of my life, I couldn't keep my hands off the Weebles that were on display in front of me, almost taunting me.

So, I spun them. Repeatedly. And I pushed them, knowing they wouldn't tip over. And I studied them, discovering two screws countersunk in the back of the wee Weeble. And I started to wonder how the heck they were made. I was tempted to ask for a screwdriver, but decided instead of ruining a young child's toy when I invariably wouldn't be able to reassemble it, I would go in search of my own Weebles to dissect.

I stopped at Target, knowing the toy section was paltry at best, but hopeful. Target disappointed, so I moved next door to Meijer, and had similar bad luck. I hate to admit, especially to all of my liberal friends who will be mortified at this, but I was desperate! I popped into WalMart in an effort to end the Weeble madness, and was relieved to discover they did not carry Weebles, either, and I managed to escape the megastore without a purchase.

Now, just to get this out of the way, I have taken enough Physics classes and have enough common sense to figure out that the bottom of the Weeble must be heavier than the top. I am not questioning the physics behind the Weeble. I am curious with what the bottom half is weighted. Is it just all hard plastic, injection molded into the shape of the bottom part of an egg? Is it a plastic shell, with some kind of weight inside, though we couldn't really hear anything jiggling or moving inside as we shook the Weebles next to our ears?

I performed the obligatory google search to no avail, as the websites all seemed to point out that the bottom half is heaver than the top (no shit, Sherlock!). So, I now have more questions. Where can I locally get a flippin' Weeble? If I get my hands on one, and tear it apart, will I be able to answer the question? What is my Plan B if I only reveal the bottom half of the Weeble, with no way to access the middle? Why is the Playskool website so awful, providing little to no information about its toys, not even a list of all of the Weebles available to purchase? Why must a Weeble entice me to shop at three different stores, perform several internet searches, write a blog post, and yet still leave me so unsatisfied and empty?

Visions of Sugarplums...

I hate stream of consciousness, which is why I shouldn't do it but I'm somewhere between conscious and exhausted...
Fell asleep before 12:13pm...when I got a text. I heard the chime, but couldn't move...I was melting into the couch. Had been listening to Phish and reading Rob Sheffield. Had Phish on low and could still hear the cars on the expressway. I can't believe I fell asleep. Woke up at 1:09 am to the chime again...it's not an odd time to send or receive a text, but I still can't believe I was sleeping...I'm not so naive to think I would sleep 'til morning. I know I would've been up around 4, and napping by 7 with the nagging thought that there's no physiological reason for me to avoid sleeping more than five or six hours in a row...I always feel like I will miss something(s)...I saw a rainbow today on my way to the mall to grab a bite to eat after the pit cleaning and a well-deserved shower and before stopping at the bookstore...it reminded me of a trip to DC when I saw both sides of a rainbow, and managed to get pictures of both sides from a moving vehicle. I can't remember if they were in black & white or not, but it seems if they weren't, there's a picture floating around of a different rainbow in grayscale...I still can't believe they got rid of indigo...kids these days are screwed...they can't sit Indian-style since it's not PC, so now it's criss-cross (with "applesauce" added to the end if like to rhyme)...and their rainbow acronym changed from Roy G. Biv (who doesn't remember him??) to Roy G. BV...try saying it, and you might make raspberries...I feel bad, too, that they don't have quality Saturday morning cartoons followed by the Three Stooges followed by Abbott & Costello followed by a Saturday afternoon cheesy movie that would invariably have the whole family sucked into watching if the weather was bad and we hadn't been kicked outside to go play...ah, the good ol' days.

Twinkle, Twinkle...

'Tis the season for lightning bugs to mate! I drove to Novi Wednesday night, and the vast expanse between Okemos and Brighton was filled with little greenish-yellow flashes of lightning bugs trying to get their groove on. Apparently, the male lightning bug's abdomen or posterior flashes when he's looking for a mate. And the female responds with a little twinkle of her own. They flash back and forth, and if both consent, it's a done deal So, this made me think: Wouldn't it be great if this worked the same way with humans? How fantastic would it be to see a man's abdomen or posterior emit a phosphorescent-like glow when looking for a woman, and a woman responding in kind with a little flash of her own? It might take too much of the guess-work out of the mating ritual, but the laser-light show would be spectacular!

Currently listening to Sugar's "If I Can't Change Your Mind"