These Knees Are No Longer Under Factory Warranty

Ramblings Post #420
You only get the one life. Or so I've been told. We'll never really know, but it just seems odd in the vast universe that this consciousness only exists for a universal second. If that. I hope they're wrong. I just do. I have so much more to do with this scrap of life I've been granted. 

Two weeks ago I feel down some stairs. My leg still hurts. 

Let me back up. A month ago I woke up and as I got out of bed, realized that my leg looked different. Like thinner. Looking back it amazes me that I didn't notice the weight loss. And since the amount is probably around seventy or so pounds, I wonder how that's even possible. 

I've lost weight before - deliberately - but this looks different. This isn't a slimming down, this is entering "are you ok?" level of change. My people know what that means. And I'm not sure I'm really OK. Yes, I did see a doctor, but I need to go back for a follow up. Ugh. And just so you know when you lose this much weight, a lot of things change that you weren't expecting besides just how you look. My eyes changed enough that I need eyeglass prescription. Nothing fits, and that includes underwear with elastic. Your muscle mass changes. And as it turns out, your joints change too, as the cushion that was there dissipates. On the bright side, my blood pressure is down. 

In any case, I started working out in the mornings, early before I do anything else. It's soothing in a way, the almost mechanical rhythm. and it gets me stretched, something else I'm concerned about as I get older. And that day I think I tweaked something. No, I'm not lifting super-heavy weights, just trying to make sure I don't collapse under my own, well, lack of weight. I have a skeletal appearance right now, at least to me. A little more muscle wouldn't hurt.  

Then I went to lunch meeting and leaving said meeting, which went well otherwise, my right knee called a general strike. That put me at the base of some concrete stairs looking foolish. I was later able to hobble the block or so back to my car, but I was determined to take it easy. I mean, it wasn't that bad of a fall. 

Note - I was incorrect. 

So now, I'm emulating my mother, sitting on a stool to cook rather than stand. Actually I'm worse than my mom, as she can stand to wash dishes and I'm dragging that stool around scared to put any weight on it. I discovered I owned a heating pad. That may be one of the greatest inventions of all time. I've come to realize Aspirin is useless. I'm discovering food in my freezer I forgot about to avoid going up and down the porch steps and walking around the grocery store. I need to go down those stairs and find me a knee brace. I've avoided at least two invites for meetups and my favorite monthly (she knows) because I'm a little embarrassed by getting old. Oh, and nothing fits either, but mostly the hobbling thing.

I've got to stop dreaming and start doing. 

Barkeep. Water with lemon. I haven't stopped drinking, but there are some days I need to grow out of.  
 

A Quick Restaurant Review - Snooze: An A.M. Eatery

Snooze was a nice little surprise.

I haven't been out much lately, that virus thing and all, but my cousin wanted to do brunch. And while I'm not up for anything much, I figured since I hadn't seen her in months and it would be relatively low key, I would go out and enjoy myself. A bit. (That and in looking back to check the format I just realized it's been FIVE YEARS since I did one of these. WOW.)

So she picked this new spot, well new to me, called Snooze. It's a little diner-ish kinda spot over in the super fast growth area of Atlanta called Westside. Not to be confused with the actual west side of the city where I live (as I've pointed out before), this is a super trendy little area that used to be half abandoned buildings. Now it's trendy boutiques, swank apartments and hot restaurants. And yes, I wish I lived there but no, I also don't even want to fork out the loot for the rents. Whooosah. The spot seemed like a winner to me, because again I've been in the house for a  long minute so we agreed to sit eat and talk.

I apparently haven't been over that way in a while, and it's maybe ten minutes away from the house. Working from home as really spoiled me. I think I put gas in my car six or seven times all of last year. But apparently everyone else has been working throwing up brick and mortar, and not just in my neighborhood. It took me a moment to remember that the last time I'd been at that corner - 10th and Howell Mill - that I used to pass nearly everyday on the way to work. The spot where Snooze was located just two years ago an industrial art installation, and I know I'd parked on the street right by there a time or two to walk to a club in that area. Now it's a whole apartment building. Whoa.

Snooze is itself is like any other brunch spot on a Sunday - BUSY. Just like in the way back, they had a group of folks milling about on the curb, but my cousin had gotten a reservation, so I steered clear until time. Well, maybe it was kinda busy. Maybe it's still the pandemic, but the waiting group seemed smaller the usual. I remember once arriving at West Egg Cafe right up the street for brunch with Spanky, putting  our name on the list, going over to Atlantic Station and getting a new phone and coming back just as they said our table was ready. This seemed to be a relatively quick five or ten minutes for walk-ups. But it wasn't stroll in and seat yourself, let me put it that way.

The inside is bright and airy, with early green and brown walls, gold light fixtures, tall dividers and higher than diner ceilings. There is even a bar in the back left corner. The staff is friendly, everything is digital and they do this thing where they seat you even if your whole party hasn't arrived. Which was cool because my cousin was running late. Oh, one other thing...everyone that works there was black. The host and hostess, the waiter, the bus...guy, everyone. Which is and isn't odd. It's Atlanta, an all black establishment isn't unusual. But it's the Westside where you can get three kinds of artisanal water in some places, so it didn't really seem like "we" would be over there considering what I know they must be charging for per square foot for the lease. Maybe it was just the staffing that day, but it didn't matter, I liked it.

Now when I say everything digital, I mean, everything digital. You pulled up the menu on your phone using a QR code on the table. Which meant my usual phone etiquette rules when I'm out with someone have to be partially suspended. The menu looks properly brunch diverse, but I still went with my old standard for new places - Scrambled eggs, hash-browns or the grits, bacon. I mean, if you can't get that basic staple right, the idea that I would trust you with Eggs Benedict topped with a Habanero Pork Belly or a French Toast is out of the question. Well, I did get a pancake instead of the toast, but hey, I hadn't been out in a minute. My cousin went simpler, with hash-browns (get them flattened and they're just like Waffle House) and a flight of bacon. Yes, like a flight of wine, it's a flight of bacon. Pure Genius.

My cousin and I chatted about careers, she's a lawyer too, and about life and Atlanta and getting older and things we should have done instead of things we did. Sometimes you just need a friendly face, a quiet body to bounce some things off. I think that the pandemic has us all re-evaluating our priorities, and I have two or three things that I need to go ahead and kickoff and stop standing around dreaming about. ONE of which is the writing. Which I will definitely be re-engaging shortly. Finishing the second draft. So yeah, working from home all this time has been great, except when you need a voice to remind you that time is actually moving. I may have gotten too comfortable with all that silence.

The food was good, although the pancake was a little "bready" for me. I like mine a touch thinner, but this was still good though. They could blot the bacon a bit, but it was still tasty, and a generous portion so I can't complain. I will note that the idea of free refills hadn't caught up with them yet, so get a water to start and save that juice for when the food arrives. By the way, you pay digitally as well, through your phone. What are old cash guys like me supposed to do?

All in all, good experience. Not just the getting out of the house, but the food and atmosphere as well. It's a good spot. I'll have to go again.

What I learned ...Last Year (Part 2)

What did I learn last year? Nothing. I learned absolutely nothing.

I want to say that during this time of enforced precaution, where we all needed a bit more vigilant to the world around us that I looked inward and explored who I was, what I wanted and what I hoped to achieve in life. I want to say that I spent mornings meditating, found my soul in a pot of greens and learned to speak to my inner child like a zen grandparent. That built a paradigm that helped me shore up my weaknesses, bolster my strengths and plot a course into the living possibility of the future.

I did none of that.

I watched a bunch of old movies, home renovations shows (Love it or List it is fantastic) and weird Netflix cartoons. I played video games (Okay, I played the Sims 4 which is terrible but addicting). I half kinda wrote some stuff.

I officially meandered through this portion of life.

I did lose some weight, as I'm eating a lot more veggies and a lot less starch now.  I do have a little home gym setup now, and as of yet it does NOT have any dirty clothing hanging from it. I discovered sheets made out of this jersey material that are fantastic. I'm gonna have to get a new couch soon.  

I don't want to talk about what happened last year outside my house. At least not right now. Working from home the days begin to blur after a while. Weekends no longer beckon, they practically sneak up on you. The news becomes a window into the world, but if you've ever stepped outside and realized you really do need a jacket you know that the world can still sneak up on you, even when you're paying attention. Just like last year it still feels like we've packed ten years worth of living into twelve months. It maybe that more isn't happening, we just have better access but sometimes that just isn't the sense you get. But that's for another time.

Working from home made me realize that I need people. I need the concrete interaction, not just the tweets and the IMs,texts, and emails, but the voices, the stories, the energy. That I need the smiling faces, the frowns, the joy and the anger. I need the person part of the person. But in my need for conversation that I've hung on to contacts for too long in some areas common sense would have made me abandon ages ago. Every conversation isn't a good conversation. And that I've been nervous about starting it in others because I'm always concerned with wasting other's people's time. But I know these things about me and my personality. I tend to care to much, in general. Ah, life would be so much easier if I was an asshole.   

So what have I learned? Nothing that I didn't already know but I stubbornly find myself reluctant to change. But you can't grow in your comfort zone. And life was gonna change anyway, so you may was pick the changes you want before some others are forced upon you.

So. Some bourbon. Some ice. A promise to myself. And let us begin.

Trafficans...

Rambling Post #369
This should be a racy post, with the number on it and all that. But not really, because I'm a mature individual with goals and responsibilities. I have deeper thoughts, higher functions, and something real to say in world that has become increasingly trivial. That and I really didn't know that was going to be this number when I started writing. Oh poo.  

I am of the opinion, that in this world where there are people who take great pleasure in dressing up like stuffed animals and people who jump off buildings for fun, that there exist people - in Atlanta if nowhere else - who go out and get into traffic just because it's just so damn great. I call these lonely people who get on 285 at 6:45am and cruise at 53 mph until around 9am or so Trafficans. I used to believe that a combination of rain, hot asphalt and atmospheric anomalies created temporary driver mirages which slowed down the cities main transit routes, but that was crazy talk. Okay, I couldn't get the grant to study it. But this idea, this makes sense.

On the route I take in mornings there is no wavelength I can attune to, no regular traffic pattern that I've been able discern. Some drivers appear to be cruising along without a care in the world, a light changing to green merely a suggestion that forward motion might be acceptable. It confuses them. Or the slow driver who wants to leave a huge gap between them and the car in front of them, as though they don't realize that the lights are timed to allow X numbers of drivers through, and driving slowly reduces that number and is WHY WE HAVE TRAFFIC. Okay, maybe the 5000 cars on a road designed to support 1000 has something to do with as well, and the badly designed city plan that lets you add another 800 apartments to an already congested area contributes.... but the slow driving certainly isn't helping.

And the sad part is that this is now Summer in Atlanta, and by that I don't mean we have special calendar that gives us extra days of hot weather (I wish). I mean that school is now out, and that means that traffic should be dying down -- something about taking kids to school or buses or bad grades or something. But it doesn't appear to be happening. Which is why I'm blaming Trafficans!

You're lonely and at home just bored out of your mind. But you've got a car and quarter tank of gas and feel the need to make a left turn in the middle of the block where there is no light during rush hour, may I suggest you invest in a Netflix account. Sure you feel like a smidgen of human interaction will just make your day, but you're not interested in a $23 cup of coffee and the idea of just walking for a bit is crazy talk, but dude, I have things to do! Like important stuff, like...um, get fried chicken. Or wings. Alright, I was going to get some comic books, but that's my business. What I don't need is your ilk on the road. Stay home Traffican!

Barkeep. I'm driving. No snide remarks, safety first. So make sure the lid is on it nice and firm. Thanks.   

Incoming!

Ramblings Post #336
I used to go to the best cookouts. Two hundred or so people, food that would run out in a half hour, a line for single bathroom, people drinking all the chaser for like no reason and girls who just needed someone to keep them occupied until the cute guys arrived. Ah, the memories. There really is something to growing up. 

The word fireworks doesn't quite cover it. The correct term is "munitions."

If there are any vets in my area who are suffering PTSD they have my deepest sympathies.

My neighbors really lit it up for the fourth. For a solid hour and a half they launched what must have been a lovely cross section of the entirety of the US military's impressive arsenal, the festivities sounding at times like a thunderstorm, then a volleys of gunfire (Steven Segal gunfire, not real gunfire), and having your position shelled.  Honest to god explosions. There is a scene in the movie Full Metal Jacket where the soldiers are resting in the bunker but the noise outside sounds funny, then suddenly they've grabbed their gear and are running as fast as they can for the slit trenches, preparing to lay down suppression fire. It was like that. My windows rattled.

When I wandered outside to see who was winning, the street was thick with the haze and smoke that comes from exploding a lot of things at the same time for a long time. And I think a few of the people had their displays set too low, as a few blooms went off while still below the tree line. Music was playing, in the dark children were granting them 'ooohs and aahhhs, and I could hear the yelling that comes from patriotic fervor, or too much alcohol  or a need for everyone to be impressed at their purchases. I went back into my house. I could still hear small explosions in the distance even after midnight as I tried to keep Vietnam movies from invading my dreams.

And I live in a pretty much all black neighborhood.

I've seen a lot of chatter online suggesting that the descendants of slaves (so, just to be simple - black people) shouldn't celebrate the 4th, because while the declaration did set off Brexit 1776, the notions espoused in it really didn't apply to everyone in that country yearning to be free. But then by that weird logic, the only people who should be celebrating it would be landowning white males, which would mean the way we celebrate would be the same - exploding things - but there would just be less demonstrations of patriotism.

Apparently women shouldn't celebrate, as they didn't get the basic benefits of being American, getting to own their own property or vote for 150 years after this grand declaration. And blacks faced  slavery and then legalized discrimination for the first 180 years since we pulled out of the BU, and things aren't so great now, so we have no reason to be happy either. In reality, when I think about it the words to "This land is my land, this land is your land" from my childhood, it really was more an expression of a idealized America, provided most of us stayed in our lane, than a realistic view of the United States. So, what exactly are we marginalized folks celebrating?

Well, for starters, I'm celebrating the country that I was born in, am a citizen of and that I live in. No, I'm not a closet nationalist or whatever term they're using these days (collaborator?), and although this country still has its many faults, problems and shortcomings* if you're not a landowning white male, it is still a fairly decent place to be in a world still rife with problems common sense should have handled years ago. I'm not necessarily celebrating America as it is today, but that idealized version of America I thought we'd have when I was a kid.

That I even have to explain this strikes me as odd now. Even those who are theoretically on the same side are so divided in their thinking.

Barkeep. A beer. Cold. No, it's just beer, it really doesn't matter.

*Faults and shortcomings being almost too many mention, including racism, sexism, injustice, poverty and the need to put cheese on everything. 

New Ranch

Ramblings Post #335
Ah summer 2017, and I'm home again, trying to get my situation right, as they say taking the time to do those things I need to do to get to where I'm going. The issue I have is, unless you're satisfied with where you are you always need to be working on the next thing. Which means I'm going to working for a long time, because satisfaction is a hard thing to pin down. 

After a bit too long a hitch at the old ranch, I've quite unexpectedly been moved onto a much better looking ranch just up north. Well, north Atlanta. North inside the perimeter Atlanta, not North northern Atlanta. It's complicated. And the transition has got me all twisted. But then, who is used to change?

To be honest, my old ranch was a place to do what I needed to do. Basically a stable, a pasture and the work. (Okay, I'm using metaphors off and on here, work with me - this ain't really no ranch but I'm keeping is nice and vague. For like, legal reasons.) But, I'd gotten used to the setup, as one does when one has been a place a touch too long. Traffic patterns for arrival, when the coffee was fresh, what time the bathroom was clear, you know, the basics. Then whoosh, just like that we get, um, the call to head north.

Now, let's be honest here, this new 'ranch' has all the amenities - free snacks, gourmet coffee, ergonomic chairs, A WINDOW, and more than the same four lunch restaurants which had fallen into a weird shifting rotation which could have me eating pasta three days in row. This place has an actual CHEF at the restaurant in the lobby. I stopped eating at the place near the old ranch because I just couldn't deal with 'guess today's price' style of running the joint. I will miss the brownies from that one spot though up the street though. Mind you this new place there is a Chipotle right there! But, the new ranch is however, as I said, further north...and therein lies the rub.

Not quite this, but for the Keurig machine the do have Stabucks cups. 

Atlanta traffic you may have heard, is a bit an odd duck. I'm fairly certain that the Marquis de Sade Traffic Commission was the principal architect of most of the city's thoroughfares. One fender bender can change a 10 minute drive into an hour wasted. The bit of I-285 between I-75 and I-85, which will eventually be known as Spaghetti Junction East and West, is commonly regarded as one of the worst stretches of roadway in the country. And all of that vehicular fever dream is directed towards or halfway funnels into and out of the area where I work now. It's a hot area. Which takes some of the shine off all the aforementioned niceties.

Given my druthers I'd much rather go in a little later and work a little later to avoid the peaks of rush hour traffic. Doing just that was an option at the old ranch, as the hours were flexible, but it isn't the case at the new one. Now that I have to deal with Atlanta traffic at its naturally occurring intersections of chaos, I have to have my track shoes on a lot earlier than I previously did, which is annoying to the say the least. It shifts my prep time and thus my whole evening schedule, which changes essentially my life. But change happens, so this is isn't the end of the world. The ride home however is a different story.

I used to have one of those unbelievable commutes, but I got deeply downgraded, to like steerage.  I live inside the perimeter, so my previous commute was 20 mins both ways. Seriously. People who live in Atlanta might scoff at the insanity of that, but from parking garage to driveway in medium just off peak traffic it was less than a half hour. I might get through five or six songs on a album. That five to ten minutes difference depended on one intersection and just how backed up the cross street was. That was the whole of my issue. Now, my commute home after a hard day of ranching is, well, unknown. I think it's 45 mins to an hour? Maybe more? All I know is that I get home at the same time or later than I used to, although I leave as much as an hour or more earlier.  

And while I get home around the same time, I now have to go to bed much, much earlier to get enough sleep. Which means my evenings just got smushed. My writing is suffering, my studying for the "cooking" school is suffering - metaphor people - and I just realized if I want to cook I need to start as soon as I walk in the door. I'm about to become one of those people who rushes to everything on Saturday because during the rest of the week I have no time.

So suddenly, I'm like normal people? What the hell?

Barkeep, I'm gonna need a tall drink of ...wait, I got to get early in the damn morning. Just an ice tea. Thanks.

Hey Atlanta, how about mass transit now, eh?

Ramblings Post #332
Atlanta is a car city. We have a mass transit system that people have fought tooth and nail against since its inception and now, well, here we are. It's gonna be a long hot summer. And the city is for the most part gonna be divided in half. The days of the floating party, the caravan of fun and the city wide club hopping might just be on hold for a minute. I'm not even going to talk about how the Metro Area Rail and Transportation Authority is going to have to bring it, and bring it hard. Since after all, ....nobody saw this coming.  *snicker*

Thursday evening, a bridge section of I-85, a major artery for the city of Atlanta, collapsed after the structure gave way during what could only be properly described as a conflagration. A big, roaring flame. Apparently just plain old fire can melt steel beams, who knew? Even worse it feel over a section right by another major artery, Piedmont Road. This will only compound the problem, as I'll explain later. This whole process will take months, at minimum four or five, to repair and should shut down not one but two major thoroughfares that connect the Northern suburbs and the rest of Atlanta. We might not be a car city much longer. 

This is the year Marta finally gets properly funded folks! Marta card sales are already up 80% and it's only the first day! Mark your calendar because if a catastrophe that will split the metro region in half won't do it, nothing will. Nothing.

The city of Atlanta is funny. On a map it looks roughly like the Vitruvian Man, with two major highways meeting, running together through the bulk of the city and then splitting again just above the airport. But in reality, only the northern part of the city (above I-20) means anything, as it is the focus of pretty much all development. Coincidentally, most of the black people live below I-20. Not that the two are connected, I'm just saying. A close look at the map however reveals that the city is not exactly a grid, but more a collection of paved cattle trails and footpaths that seemed like a good idea in 1820. As such, the metro area is really more a collection of roads that only incidentally connect to one another in some places, and not at all in others. This quirk of design is why the single collapsing highway section is such a problem.

Photo by Redditor - nico6426

I-85 where it runs through Atlanta is regularly used by roughly...um, EVERYBODY IN THE METRO AREA. It connects Midtown (with over 35 construction projects underway or announced) with Buckhead - the center of all things trendy in the New South. When it gets the middle of the city and meets 75 we call it the Downtown Connector.  So, kinda important. The other two main roads in the city are Peachtree Road...no, not that Peachtree, the other one, no the other other one, the one in the middle, sheesh, and Piedmont Road on the East side of town. Strangely, all three of these intersect in Buckhead. There is no counterpart on the west side of Atlanta, because there really isn't. Because that's why. And now that I-85 has fallen onto Piedmont, there is only Peachtree Road a four lane red-light riddled strip that remains.

Although some will claim it will not be that bad, because although the section of I-85 that fell is actually just north of Piedmont Road, the truth is the fire damage is extensive. Although only the one section fell, the flames touched everything around it, and even money says several other sections of the road surface above and below the area will have to be collapsed and rebuilt just to be on the safe side. More than likely one of the sections directly over Piedmont Road. And even if they don't have to bring that section down on purpose as a safety concern, the fastest way rebuild the section that did fall would involve...blocking Piedmont Road. 

Where I work, going forward referred to as the Ranch, the parking deck was half empty the day after and I had my pick of just off prime spots. The spot where I grab lunch was sparse as well. Because we had no off highway traffic a whole section of my home commute normally a pain was light and easy. But, I live INTOWN, and the highway that goes all the way around the perimeter of the city was bumper to bumper for nearly half its circumference, backing up the designated alternate routes for hours. And that's with the county in a State of Emergency and half the city told to work from home or just take the day off. I shudder to think of what's going to happen on Monday when the flood gates open. I may go to work way early. Or I mean, leave for work. When I make it is anyone's guess. 

It's gonna be a strange summer in Atlanta.

Barkeep, let me get a cold beer, some of that hot fish and some white bread.

What? You thought I was gonna make a bar-b-que joke? For shame....

And then the Atlanta Falcons...

Ramblings Post #331
Let me say first that my team had a good run. And hopefully, the Cowboys will take this as a sign that great things are possible with that team. I blame the end of the Green Bay game on the coaching staff, who called for Dak to spike the ball on that last drive with about 40 seconds left when they should have run a play (possibly a nice sweep? Out of bounds and advance the ball). Now we just need to get through the off-season and free agency - pray for the secondary - and maybe I'll get a return of the 'Boys to Superbowl when it's in Atlanta. Whooo! 

I'm not a Falcon fan. I've lived in Atlanta for a while, but I'm not a fan. It's called loyalty to my actual team. But this year the Falcons are going to the Superbowl. The big game. Going for the whole enchilada. The city will be...well, I'll get to that, but in the end I'm still not even going to even pretend to be a Falcon fan. So I'm giving away my seat on the bandwagon. It's seat 30,486A. I don't know who is in 30,486B, sorry.

Outsiders don't know this, but some of the great annual parties of the year in Atlanta (in any circuit you travel) are in conjunction with the most watched sporting event in the America. In my youth I've attended as many as five different functions on game day alone, my youth in this case being my early-thirties. In fact, one of the first great parties I attended in Atlanta was for the game, and it was that party, in an unfinished basement holding a red solo cup that I knew I'd moved to the right town. Sigh. Since then I've been to parties for the game in spaces that probably weren't a thousand square feet, in halls and showrooms, and yet others at mansions with 100-inch projections screens on the lower level and 60 inches upstairs. Some games I've run into people I haven't seen in a decade and at others made new hang-out buddies. It's a feast, a party and good time.   

Now, generally we folks down here in the ATL find out who won on Sportscenter sometime around eleven (if the TV is still on) or later when you finally make it home. A typical party for the game includes a DJ during commercials, food that is gone by halftime, a full donation bar, lively conversations and catching up, and a brief pause for the halftime show if it's somebody good. There is dancing afterwards if you push the furniture back, and maybe even a little after game entertainment depending on the host. There may even be five or ten fans of one of the teams playing in attendance, Atlanta is a city of transplants after all, but the vast majority of the crowd usually turns out of the festivities, not the game itself.

Don't believe for a moment that they aren't serious.

This year however, people will actually be watching the game. As in paying attention to the play calling, down and distance, yelling at the screen, and cursing the refs. I'm going to get commentary about whose open, formations and shrieks of terror or joy depending on the action. People will be caring about who wins. People will be actual FANS. I am filled with dismay.

Even worse, the really cool folks are headed to Houston. Damn if they're gonna miss this. Ticket or no ticket, they just want to be close. I'm not sure if the NFL is ready for all that. This means the parties for those of use left behind might be half empty. Ugh.

I'm sorry my fellow good time revelers, the light-hearted bootleg holiday that is the Superbowl isn't coming this year.  At least not in Atlanta.

Houston bound.

Somewhere on February 5th, the game will be in the third quarter and people will not even notice. They'll might be enjoying a drink with friends, telling a ribald tale and sharing a laugh, or perhaps sneaking a glance to see if that attractive person they noticed earlier is looking their way. Wings and blue cheese, chips and dip, possibly a brawt or two will be consumed leisurely. Alas, I will not be there. Alas.

Bartender, something in a cup. With a lid. That seals. And make it strong.   

Then cometh the rain

Ramblings Post #323
Sometimes the words get muddled. The milk sours. And in those moments where the storm pounds down upon our heads, we can only see the rain and hear the thunder and for a brief instant, we are horrified that maybe it will go on forever. But it can't. It won't. My grandfather once said that if you get caught in a storm you keep moving. Because the storm can't last forever. But this isn't about a grand teaching parable that will guide us in those moments of despair. This is about traffic in the rain in Atlanta. But this sounds like it's leading to something so epic, didn't it?

What is it about Atlanta traffic?

Leaving the office today.

In the parking garage, there is a line to leave. Inside the garage. I get up, swipe my pass, and get through the gate, and the driveway to the street is full. The short street that dead ends into the major thoroughfare, at which we all have to turn right on, is bumper to bumper across all four lanes. I need to get on that street, get across all four of those lanes, and make an immediate left at the light....all in the space of what, forty yards? My usual thing is to make a left drive out of the garage, drive to the other end of the block and make two rights to get onto said major thoroughfare whereupon switching lanes becomes easier. Smart, right?

The car in front of me, and the six or seven cars between it and the end of the street all are determined to make that right onto the major thoroughfare right here. So we wait for a good Samaritan to let the first driver in. Then another, and another...just so the congestion right out of the garage clears. Five minutes.

I make the left, and at the first intersection before the end of the block going away from traffic is...a standstill. Not inching along, I mean gridlock. For another five minutes. Then we move, a little, the bus in front of me is letting off people even though there is no stop. Rain is pouring, another five minutes. Edge along a little as cars getting out two different other garages ease into gridlock. Pull up a little further and ...there are three cars sitting in traffic with their blinkers on. Waiting. I only wish they were broken down.

At the intersection pedestrians have the right of way, and most of them shuffle along like they haven't a care in the world and it's not pouring buckets of agua from the sky. Guy in front of me can't make a left turn, won't even ease out, even after traffic abates for a brief fifteen second count. (Seriously, I counted.) He finally makes the turn when someone is halfway through the crosswalk. I make the FIRST right turn, and for a brief moment my car is going faster than 2 mph. Wooooo!

Next light, next right and suddenly we're stopped again. I turned wide, because I could, and now I'm in the third lane over and have just one more to go. I see the people to my right - lanes one and two, easing up, why are we stopped? Someone else trying for the fourth lane has decided they need to get over NOW, in the middle of the block. We wait behind because we forgot to mount lasers on our hoods. He gets over, gets to the end of the block...and keeps going straight. So why did he have to get over right then?

I finally get back to the front of my building. I glance at the clock in my car. Twenty five minutes have passed and I'm literally right in front of my building. Make the left, miss the bus which is hanging across three lanes, pull in and up the hill. And why is this guy driving so slowly? The lanes headed the other way are bumper to bumper. The way we are going is clear. Why is he doing twenty? Intersection, we're right next to one another. And there is a truck trying to join the bumper to bumper traffic and lo and behold he's in my lane, broadside, when the light turns green. Oh joy.

He finally joins traffic and I press on, oddly catching the slowpoke two lights later where he's just getting to the intersection. And the worst part is I'm not even at the bad intersection yet.

If only Marta was worth a damn.

Barkeep. You have no idea.

What's a little Traffic between friends?

Ramblings Post #320
While the city of Atlanta contains one of the worst stretches of highway in the world that doesn't contain land mines, the rest of the city's traffic isn't really all that bad. Sure you've got your problem people on the road, but all in all if you know the proper side streets and connections you can get around pretty good. With rare exception. Or soon to be not so rare exception, if somebody doesn't do something soon. 

The Westside of Atlanta is hot right now. And by Westside I mean that tiny little bit of real estate parcels between Northside Drive and Marietta Blvd, right around the reservoir. Not to be confused with like, the actual west side of the city where all the black people live. The new restaurants, shopping, wine places, apartments are all fusing together to create that "place" feel that has been successful in Atlanta over the last decade (see Atlantic Station, Shoppes of Buckhead, Avalon.) A quick peruse of Curbed Atlanta shows that even more development is planned for this busy little corridor. So in the Westside, not on the West Side, it seems that everybody with a few million to rub together is trying to get in while the getting is good. 

Now I drive through this area pretty much everyday, as it's on the way to and from work. Note I said drive. Primarily because Atlanta has a slack public transportation system due to too many reasons to go into here, and partly because I no longer completely trust the parking lot at the Marta station on the West Side. But I digress, because right now, during the morning and afternoon rushes, the area's former livestock trails that they've paved over and pretend to be streets are filled to bursting. I get through the morass by knowing when to get in the right, left or bus lane at which particular intersection or stretch of road, having the timing down, and blind luck. A single bus, slow driver, rain or a person trying to do something silly and the whole thing goes to hell very, very quickly. 

From Google Maps, with some drawing on it...

Was a traffic study required before all this was allowed to be built up practically right on top of each other? Is one going to be required in the future for all the other things they're still trying to cram in there? Because all these sweet amenities mean nothing if the streets that connect them are designed for a quarter of the traffic. As much as this city wants to be a New York South, that namesake major city has fairly good public transportation that people actually use. Because it goes places. Atlanta is distinctly a car city.

Under current conditions, there are blind driveways leading to and from shopping, spots where a single car making a left turn means backing up traffic for a block, where I think the light timing is probably set on randomizer, and places where the parking rules for a gin joint from 1935 are the current fashion. And that's on a Tuesday afternoon. Imagine a Friday night, when the nightclubs and bars are open. And since they've just finished knocking something else down to make room to build something else - right across the street from the apartment building I think they finished this spring that already has parking issues - it's only going to get worse. I realize that developers run Atlanta and that zoning laws are merely suggestions to them, but damn. 

I hope that with the coming of the Westside Reservoir Park, no relation, on the actual west side of Atlanta, some of that development will move maybe, to the west. Westerly if you will. To where the black people live. I find it odd that in the black mecca of America that all the development is taking place in the areas without the black people. Funny, huh? This process of economic inclusion could probably be sped along by basically zoning out the rest of the Westside so that you can get close, but not right in there, or starting the next little "place" on the actual west side. Like, say, up the street from my house? Which if anyone is reading this besides those two guys in Russia and the nice lady in Singapore (love you guys! mean it), that means that property values and TAX revenues increase in a broader area. Which might be a good thing, I don't know, not a politician. 

I am wondering exactly how they're going to pull the gentrification that has to happen around the new Georgia Dome in preparation for the Super Bowl. That's a very 'urban' area. I dunno, maybe some of that development will rub off.  I kid. 

Barkeep, A cold beer. No, it doesn't have to be from the brewery by the reservoir, jeez. As long as it's cold.

The Ride-Along Gang

Ramblings Post #285
At this age I figured I would be curling up in front of a warm fire at this time of year, my wife snuggled against my side under a warm blanket, my teenage daughter sitting under own throw hating me because I'd suggested a little quiet family time away from phone, and my son down by the hearth lost in thought at how to beat the next level of his favorite video game. Instead I have an empty potato chip bag and the taste of hot dog on my breath in an empty house. But I do have the warm blanket. Two in fact. Missed by that much.

Stolen from Starsy of Reddit!

My new junior partner, who has a tentative name but whose presence is based on my current chicken plucking status, is a piece of work. She's young, "movie best friend cute", and what I've referred to in the office as "precious." It is talking to her that I realize that a) I am very old and b) a lot of what I know probably needs to depart with me. That's not really the issue of this post, but just something I've noticed.

The new junior partner and I trained together, and plucks chickens on roughly the same schedule, although we work in different areas. But since the location of the spot forces us (and most of the company) to take public transportation, please note that Atlanta's train system barely qualifies as HO grade, and we live on the same side of town, the JP and I tend to ride in together. Or rather, she works it so we ride together. As in calls my house before 8am to see if I've caught the train in the morning works it. Insert deep sigh here.

Admittedly the new junior partner is a small girl, having been compared to a middle schooler at one point. And as I said she's cute.  And her personal style is a bit more upmarket than socioeconomic group that uses public transportation at that particular hub we use, which has elicited some unsolicited comments. And she says she has been approached a time or two by prospective male suitors before she traveled with me. So it's kind of a safety issue thing, to some degree, I guess. And I have grown fond of her - relax, she's married - so I don't have a problem sharing a seat and chatting to and from the job so she feels comfortable.

It's just that she wants to get there soooo early. Like hour or hour and half early, so she can eat breakfast. Which means the bulk of my day would spent at the chicken plucking location, with minimal to no time for silly things like chasing my dreams. 

And that outside with-no-wind-guard platform is cold. Like cold cold. And to miss a train by as little as 30 seconds could mean 15 minutes on that same cold platform waiting for the next train. Add to that the fact that the system's timing is loose at best, meaning what should be a fifteen to twenty minute trip can easily turn into one lasting forty five minutes or more, with a single missed connection dominoing into a massive time suck. I talk to people at the job who arrive an hour early everyday to avoid that domino.

Most of the management I've spoken with drives. Which seems oddly fitting.

All I know is I ain't up for this. I was put on this Earth to do more than pluck these chickens and pay bills. 

And she gonna need a new schedule, I ain't up for all this. I'm old. And I ain't never really been a morning person. But I do love me some breakfast food. Six of one, half dozen of the other.

Barkeep. Hot Toddy. And don't skip on the hot. 

Things I meant to comment on...

Ramblings Post #273
I've been busy. Kinda busy. I have been working on things and but probably need to refine my schedule a great deal. In any case blog posts take time to craft. Sometimes days. These are still raw when I thin about it. But life keeps moving and I've been see-sawing between really busy...and really lazy. Job hunt, work on the novel, wash some clothes, nap, job hunt, etc,. But the world hasn't stopped for me, and I need to say a thing or two. Or five.

Canada

People are shooting in Canada now?  Do you even realize how wrong that even sounds? That it was a militant Islamist is even more disturbing. Quick note to the rest of Islam, the concept of "not snitching" or standing passively by while others wreck the very idea of what you stand for isn't a good look. I realize militants don't represent all of Islam, but the longer this festers the more this becomes...not a good look. On the upside, the Canadian press is glorifying the rescuers, not the attackers. Which may be the first time a national press has done it right. Take notes people.

Ebola

Since I didn't really plan on touching the bodily fluids of any other folks, I really wasn't too worried about catching this disease. AND, since most of the folks in the US who have caught the disease have pulled through, same sentiment. That we don't want to acknowledge the very real threat of climate change we see clear evidence of but will accept the hyperbole regarding a disease you have to be practically on top of someone to catch speaks volumes about perceptions. Volumes. 

Ferguson, MO

Considering that there is some validity to the old cliche that a district attorney could get a grand jury to indict a ham sandwich, that idea that there are now emerging stories that all the eyewitnesses who've appeared agree with the officer's version is entirely believable. Baffles me, but I believe it. What truly amazes me about this are the lengths the local police force is going through to avoid a trial where both parties interests are represented. All that overtime for officers, equipment, grand jury time, etc. It would have been cheaper to just take him into custody, let him post bond and have an actual trial. Much cheaper. Especially since according to many we'd get the same result. Or would we?

Senate Races

I live in Georgia, and the insanity that I have seen makes me wonder what it's like in swing states. I weep for those people.

My Diet

I know I'm fat again. But there have been too many things in flux, too many uncertainties, and the comfort of chili dogs and french fries or Krispy Kreme doughnuts fills a void like no other. I got to get back on the horse, but now....we eat. 

Avengers Trailer

Still haven't seen the first one. Seriously. Why it can't pop up on HBO, or Showtime, or even FX which is where I saw Thor for the first time I have no idea. I realize it made a lot of money so it's final distribution channel was delayed, but it's been years now people. Years. Distribution to third or fourth markets cannot be problem now, can it? This, this right here, is why piracy exists.

Steve Nash

We who have passed the milestone know that 40 is not that old, but it's a little old to playing pro basketball. And since you hurt your back carrying luggage... *smh*. Dude, the term is broadcast booth, announcer, front office. You were a legend in your time. Your time has passed. Let it go. I'm still down for my Lakers though.

Barkeep, I need a Cosmopolitan. I used make them years ago, and it's been so long.

Spel-House Yeah!

Ramblings Post #272
So many glorious nights, so many beautiful faces, so many experiences that fill the book of life and make moments of memory the sweetest part of living. Or, you could live in Atlanta and you don't have time for memories, because it's just on like that.

As you may or may not know, I did not attend Morehouse University. And I guess it goes without saying I did not attend Spelman University. I think I visited once, but that's not important. With the annual FAMU game no longer a thing, the "one big party" thing that used to happen in Atlanta for what are normally considered "middle class" black people was relegated to just this affair: The Morehouse/Spelman homecoming. Maybe one other thing too, I've been out of the loop for a minute.

Note that I did not wake up on Saturday and go out there. Too much going on for me, poor old bones, wooo, a little pear tea before I get the vapors.

One of the great traditions of HBCUs are the homecoming events, which typically are affairs where the actual game is more a ritual than the main event and the majority of the alumni attendees treating it like a class reunion. You show up, catch up with old friends, go home. Or in the modern era, make plans on FB, show up, show off, go home, remove old friends from friends list. I didn't have the inclination to do that, because I really only kinda know them folks. But, since grown folks now tend to throw better parties, I was up for a little hangout on Friday night.

My RP hipped me a little drop in at a spot called the Negril Village a few blocks south of the Fox theater. The name through me, because most Jamaican eating spots are low-key affairs, and this weekend was supposed to be high tone. I was pleasantly surprised. Very upscale, all brick and dark wood with  a great looking bar area and what looked like comfy booths. The upstairs event space, where the function I was attending took place was nice as well, with it's own private bars. And it turned into a real get funky, sweat dripping, shake your booty party.

All the way turned up. All. The. Way.

At some point, perhaps unable to grab a drink, my fellow revelers decided to head north to Buckhead, and ended up at the Rose bar, which I remember as an old piano bar that was sitting right in the middle of everything but an odd place to end up. Well now, everyone's found it and it was jumping. I think they added a deck on the front - or maybe it's been there a while - and they took out the piano but it's still the little hideaway it's always been, now just turned up to 100. Very nice.

After playing Uber and dropping my folk off, I ended up at this place called Delia's Chicken Sausage Stand.  Please note, that until I walked in, I had never noticed the word "sausage" in the name. I usually pass it on North Ave headed someplace else, but instead of the long ride out to a Waffle House then back home, I decided to give it a go. They had a crowd, and if I can find something on the menu I like I'm going to drop in one night and just hang out, but the link chicken sausage wrapped in egg on a hoagie roll just didn't do it for me. Maybe I should have tried the sauce, or looked at something besides breakfast. It was interesting though.

And after my first night out in... I seriously have no idea, but it has to have been months, I kept in Saturday. I would have made biscuits, but something is wrong with my stove so I got to get that checked. In any case, it's nice to know that even as I've dropped below the radar that Atlanta is still out there, having a good time.

Barkeep, a nice glass of Chablis. And do you know if the drug store carries hair dye? No reason. For a friend.   

A Quick Restaurant Review - Bone Garden Cantina

One of globe hopping pals, good ole Slim, is back in town and since she's only in town for another two weeks before she's off to South America, we decided before things get crazy with the holiday weekend to hookup, sit down eat and catch up. Its been so long since I've had a regular properly cultured dining partner it took me a minute to figure out which way to go. So remembering she's a pescatarian, I picked a Mexican spot that included veggie only and fish tacos, which is how we ended up at the Bone Garden Cantina.   

The BGC is off the beaten path to say the least. It's a little bar on the backside of a little office/loft type development on in an industrial access road in a developing part of town. I circled the parking lot twice looking for it, before finally getting out of the car and venturing on foot into the building the sign called the "Lumberyard." As we say in the country, if it had been a snake it would have bitten me.

The inside is pure kitsch. Think of those restaurants that try to create a homey atmosphere by putting
unrelated vintage stuff on the walls, but think if it all had a single theme and that theme was the
Mexican holiday known as the Day of the Dead. It's dancing skeletons, skulls, devils and a few other things that just washed over my eyes. Even weirder, the longer I sat in there the more the whole thing seemed to come together, as though the designer was counting on you having to immerse yourself to get the feel of it. I had a Mexican Coke and just soaked up the room for a while.

And this was just looking over my shoulder from the bar...

Slim finally arrived and we ordered, her getting the cheese quesadilla and a vegetarian taco called the Flor de Jamaica, that came with flowers. She explained that living in the Bahamas she'd actually played with fish so now she couldn't eat those either. I wished her well with that. I had the a Carne Adobo taco and a Chorizo quesadilla. Now, just so you don't get it confused, this is real Mexican food, not the Americanized versions they serve most places. If that's what you want, the menu gives directions to the nearest Taco Bell and wishes you well. This food is excellent. The sauce had a tang to it, with no sweetness, and neither the taco or the quesadilla looked like any other I'd eaten before in Atlanta. Slim who is originally from California and knows Mexican food from people who don't even speak English was so impressed that she had to get some to-go that could take home for her mother.

My Carne Adobo Taco

Now to catch up. I had only spoken to Slim by phone for the past few years as she'd dipped off to the Middle East to teach. Then last year she moved to the Bahamas where she was possibly looking at a position as a school principal, and where I was looking into vacationing because I wasn't planning on paying for a hotel or food. In any case she cut that short because she is leaving her husband, which was the topic for most of our meal. We briefly discussed some other things: future plans like maybe Peru or China for her, my job search, the book I'm working on, my film project, etc., but we kept coming back to how unhappy she was with her situation. And how long it had been that way. And how happy she was that she was ending it. So the meal had a theme so to speak.

The Bone Garden Cantina is a cool little spot, as we ended up just sitting there at the bar chatting long after the lunch crowd had cleared out. The waitstaff seems attentive without hovering, the food is all priced individually so you can experiment without breaking your wallet, and when you go ask the waitress if you can hang on to your menu because the back is just shy of hilarious. I'll be back, sipping on a Mexican coke and letting the vibe just get me.    

Welcome to the Wild Wild East

This is a political post.

I went out a few months ago to a friends birthday party at a little spot called the Buckhead Bottle Bar,
which looked a lot more impressive in the photographs. That and the waitress took so long I thought she had to drive to the liquor store to get the alcohol for my drink. Okay, maybe I'm a little old for that spot, but the news today suddenly brought back a memory of that evening. Aside from the look I got from the doorman, I had to submit to a pat down before entering.

Normally I don't do a spot that has to pat you down. It generally means the people running the spot know that their crowd has a tendency to get ornery, which really isn't conducive to a good night out at my age. As such, I paused at the door and asked him if it was "like that" in the establishment. He indicated that no, it wasn't, but due to the liberal gun laws in my state of residency, guns had become more prevalent than ever. He informed me that even the nicer restaurants, the places that look like movie backgrounds, are festooned people packing personal weaponry.

Where have I been?

Now I realize that there is a little town just outside of Atlanta that requires gun ownership (strange how conservatives didn't scream that government mandate violates any rights, now isn't it?) but the city of Atlanta proper and all it's associated city-lites aren't crazy dangerous. Are they? I mean, I live in a theoretically sketchy part of town, and I don't feel the need to be armed. It's not like I'm stumbling across bodies in the street on the way to the grocery store. I can leave the house after dark, just like in most of America, so I'm confused as to why Governor Deal felt the state needed better protection for dealing with roving bands of ...I'm guessing ghosts, here.

I mean, do the people in Buckhead, Brookhaven and Vinings need to walk around ready for a High Noon showdown? Or do teachers need rifles to hold off the natives until the menfolk get back from the fields? Because we live in the 21st century. At least I did.  What I find most disturbing about the bill is the specific inclusion (revisions of section 1-5) that removes the prohibition allowing guns into places that serve alcohol, because I like to think we're all fairly sure that alcohol impairs judgement. Am I to understand that drinking and driving is bad, but drinking and guns are okay? Apparently there is some study somewhere I missed that indicates alcohol does not impair judgment if you have a gun on you. Probably NRA sponsored.

This is really just an expansion of GA's Stand your Ground Law, which rests on the principle of allowing a person (usually not a minority) to shoot someone whom you feels threatens you in any place you're allowed to carry a gun. This expands the area you can legally carry one. Since we're now adding alcohol to the mix, I can uncomfortably predict this will not end well. A few drinks, an argument and suddenly everyone swears they're the hero in a Quentin Tarantino film. As the default threat - i.e., a black male - I find it more than a little worrisome. Here's to hoping I'm Django.

Let Me Catch Up Right Quick...

Ramblings Post #252
I been busy, trying to get done what I shoulda had oughta been finished. But that's not important right now. Or rather it is MOST important, because it has pretty much consumed me for the past few days. But I'm not made of stone, so let's do a quick update...

BBB

I'm getting a little long in the tooth to be going out. I know this because I went to a friend's birthday party on Friday night at this little spot in Buckhead and got the odd looks from the doorman. Maybe it's the grey hair. For some reason our party sat under the speaker, so conversation was dicey. And the service was less than stellar, as at one point I opined that the waitress must have had to go to Lenox Mall to get our drinks. And although attractive, at times, the crowd was a little 'young.' And once the bottle hit our table people just started showing up...but since I didn't buy the bottle I was just curious as to random folks dropping by and helping themselves. And the spot didn't start jumping until around 12:30pm...half an hour before I left.

Superbowl...

Although at the house party I had the pleasure to attend my icebreaker was "Have you accepted Peyton Manning as your football savior?", I happen to actually own a very old Seattle Seahawks T-shirt, so I guess that was my team. That and the very vocal Seahawks fan I was sitting next to kept breaking down every play for me, so I was kinda sucked in. Although I didn't see most of the second half because after the kickoff return I decided it was time to just socialize. It was nice little outing if I must say so. And since it will be my last one until the end of the month I need to savor it.

PS3

No, I haven't got the PS4 yet, and wouldn't matter because I don't have the time to play. Okay, I don't have the money right now either, but that's not the point. I turned the PS3 off the other day because I just realized it's been on for almost a month now and I haven't used it. I did check to see what the PS+ crew had up for grabs this month and got a game before they started charging for it again. As far as it bang for your buck you can't beat that PlayStation Plus. But it really doesn't help me now because I already have three games from before I had only barely started before my "project" took over, and we're not starting anything new until this is ova. So, maybe next month little PS. Next month I swear.

My Eating...

Once I was a dedicated follower, indulging sparingly in the sweets. An age passed, and I veered back and forth between what I knew as good and the fried tasty. Then I became a homebody and so eating out became my reason to leave the house...which leads us to today and that sweater that was way too tight. I baked the chicken, cut back the red meat and caught the shrimp on sale. Wheat bread, skim milk.  I have grapes, oranges and watermelon, and just two snacks in the house. And them frozen pizzas. And the bacon in the freezer. I want some ice cream, is that wrong?

TV

My shows are back! House of Lies, Episodes, and Shameless. And Archer has moved to Mondays so I don't forget it. And I just realized I don't watch a whole lot of television after that. Wow.  

And now, back to the salt mines. And just you know, If it don't stop messing with me, I'm gonna take this reality by the reins and impose my order it. So if everything suddenly starts coming with a side of bacon, you'll know why.

Barkeep. A tall coffee. Extra black. I'm not supposed to enjoy it.

Snow-pocalypse 2014

Ramblings Post #251
Ah wintry morning, smile upon us and grant us the serenity of mind, the quiet of the morning, snow a blanket. Ah wintry morning, gaze upon and grant us the serenity of the soul, the quiet of the essence, snow a blessing. Ah wintry morning, I have an early meeting, so I'm sorry you can't stay. Here's a few bucks for a cab, and I'll call you. Promise.

Didn't I just do this? Oh yeah, I did.

The city of Atlanta is starting to get back to right. The Google traffic map has shifted back from a bright red halo of  I-285 to what could be a typical Wednesday, where only half the traffic is horrible. Actually it may look better than normal, since a lot of people aren't going anywhere until Friday if they can help it. I'm hunkered down, conserving my snacks and "trying to find an exit out the business."

So, what happened? What caused the city to sink into almost total gridlock, children to be stuck at school overnight, five miles commutes to last ten hours and people to have to sleep in their cars
overnight? Some of it was bad planning. No, a lot of it was bad planning. And constrained budgets. And obstinacy on the part of decision makers, private and public, thinking that it wouldn't be that bad.

First, the people in charge screwed up on this one. Governor. Mayor. Business owners. Etc. The storm was predicted over the weekend. In neighboring states, some closed schools on Monday and Tuesday in anticipation. Businesses said, take some time with the family. People got ready. That wasn't done here. It wouldn't be that bad. As Al Roker put it, the people in charge took a gamble and they lost.

Second, the city itself is ill prepared for such events. Although the city plan calls for nearly two hundred miles of streets to pretreated in case of emergency, no such pre-treating was done in this case. Again, this part of the gamble they took. But even if they had taken the initiative, two hundred miles is barely a sliver of the network of streets and roads that crisscross the city.  It was only a few years ago this same thing  occurred, and the city took steps to act like maybe they could do something. But, after spending a few million on gear and infrastructure, the cost of deployment and replenishment versus the possibility of wasted effort weighed heavily in the decision matrix. So they gambled that it wouldn't be that bad.

But it kinda was, that bad...

Third, the city of Atlanta really isn't a single city, what with the state, county and city governments all
with different agendas, added to the recent modern politics of the redivided south carving out what were previously neighborhoods into little separate cities, exactly who was in charge of what was a bit ... muddy. In some cases the same street might switch governance three times in two miles. This coupled with sending everyone home at the last minute so everyone hits the roads at the same time, the average Southern's inability to drive in snow plus the inability of most people to drive on ice, well, you see how things just kinda spiraled out of control. They quickly got...that bad.

I'm still not ready to trade this for say, Boston, where it's cold five months out of the year...but sometimes it does test me.  

So what to do? I talked with my brother, who last night was helping cars cross the bridge down the street from his house, and he came up with an idea that's been floating around my head since. Just an idea, I'm certain there are I'm missing but here it is:

Idea: Designated Local Agents; on an as needed basis for inclement conditions.

The idea is that the city of Atlanta...and it's surrounding boroughs...go ahead and buy more than few of these abundant foreclosure homes still sitting around our great city in strategic spots. Offer to pay a small fee for them, but if the banks get antsy you can always invoke eminent domain. Then, tear down the structure and build a concrete bunker. An artistic bunker. If you want, you can even landscape the area, get a local artist to paint the side. Call it infrastructure improvement or a citywide Art show. Then inside this structure, place a few hundred pounds of road salt, shovels, maybe even a plow you strap to front of a four wheel drive vehicle or two. Then take bids for the area. One or two people to hold the key. During inclement weather that contractor handles that specific area's street needs. Pay them say $2500 for their time per incident. Have a city manager check on them once a month to make sure the agents haven't moved and to inspect the bunkers. It might look costly on the front end, say an outlay of a five million dollars, but over the long run it would be more than cost effective.

And if you consider how the city responded to people in peril on the streets, I'm sure the contractors may even get a few volunteers to help out in our times of need. Neat all the way around. 

It's not a great plan. But it's a start. And I'm fairly certain a number of people can probably spot a dozen or so flaws fairly quickly. We in Atlanta thank you, because if you can spot the flaws that means we can fix them.

Barkeep. I believe I'll have a Hot Toddy, because that one time at that party....  

And we're off...did someone say, bar crawl?

Ramblings Post #249
Do something different. Start the new year off with a bang. Let's try not to make those just words and phrases. It's time to hit the gym, cut out the sugar, and focus on the next step we're taking to get where we want to go. But...changes don't just go one way. Change the things you do to enjoy yourself, or at least try. Because you never know what you might enjoy. But if involves spiders or heights, keep it to yourself.

One of my old partners from back in the day hit me up a few days ago with the idea for a start of the New Year's Bar Crawl through Castleberry Hill to start off 2014 with a bang. I reminded him that this, first, is not New Orleans and second, although Atlanta appears to be in the south it really is just less north than a lot of places, as evidenced by the cool breeze that has a tendency to pop up this time of year. He swore it would be fun, sent out an invite on FB, and low and behold the party was arranged for Friday night.

Castleberry Hill, for those not from Atlanta (and those from Atlanta who only live in the suburbs) is one of the cities hot new districts, with lots of small restaurants, bars, wine shops and lounges. Whereas most clubs in Atlanta strive to be Super clubs - with massive dance floors, vast rooms, and crowds pressing to get in, this area is at a different pace. Most of the spots are the size of large Starbucks. They are neighborhood spots, designed to attract the residents of the expensive condos and town houses that they were placed near. But, it's still developing so, for a couple of the stops planned, it was not a hop skip and jump, but a fairly long little walk.

 Know this, cold as it is had there been as much as 1 mph of wind, I would have stayed home.

Instead I dressed semi-warmly, on the idea that I would be in and out all night, found some gloves I knew I had and headed out to the first stop, a spot called Smoke Ring. It's a chic little BBQ spot at the north end of the district, all woods and rustic, but very open and bright. And bereft of any revelers. I was the first to arrive. Please note that at this point I was twenty minutes late. I contemplated the idea that if nobody showed up by the time we were scheduled to move onto the next spot, I would simply order dinner and go home.

A few minutes later people started showing up, in droves. What I thought might be ten people at best
quickly turned into a group of twenty to twenty five. Spanky popped up, as well as few Game Night originals, and some shots were quickly ordered. The original plan was to show up at the various spots, well, invade might have been a better term at this point, get a libation and move on forty five minutes later. Although late starting, the crawl proceeded right on schedule, pulling out in a long line of chilly participants at eight forty five sharp.

The next stop was a little burger+sushi spot called Bottle Rocket, a brisk two block stroll south. It's a perfect little neighborhood spot, if say, you're hanging out with a friend or want a quick jaunt out with the significant other. If you're in bar crawl, the previous use of the word "little" is very appropriate. After stepping in for a few minutes and getting a feel for the place, I decided that my time would be better spent on the sidewalk, meeting people not with our party. While a few of crawl members who had missed out on a drink at the first stop got a quick one, I met with members of the band who had just played and few other fun characters.

Because of the growing crowd, a newly met trio and I decided to ...er, scout ahead, yes, that's it, scout ahead at our next stop - The Pearl - to check things out. This is was probably the best spot on the route to eat, as a delicious aroma of seafood greeted us upon entering. We got some drinks, and then settled into the semi-private room in the back to wait for our comrades, who when they arrived a few minutes later now probably numbered closer to forty. We caroused, we met new revelers, we probably all told multiple lies.

Now, more closely bonded, my trio and I made our way south one door to the 255 Tapas Lounge, the spot where many years ago I figured out that there is no such thing as a quick jaunt out.  This another spot that was ready for us on arrival, opening a second bar in the back in preparation. Moments after my arrival, the bulk of us finally swarmed inside a large warm tent keeping the back patio habitable. 

Blu Cantina, formerly M Bar was the next locale, and it was conveniently located right next door.  Upon entering I realized that they'd only changed the name, and nothing else. It was and still is the about the size of a two bedroom apartment. And since it was already kind of full, our arrival only cranked things up to crazy. It was here Spanky found some guy...I have no idea of his name...some guy willing to buy shots to infinity. At one point I think he bought fifteen shots, one for everybody she pointed out of the crowd. This meant it was time for me to move away from the bar. Because the place was so small and our crowd now so large, the atmosphere suddenly seemed a bit more "rowdy" for some reason. This is the one spot I was happy to move on from.

Our last stop was next door at the Spinning Pie, a spot that looked for all intents and purposes like a scene from a old school rap video. All that were missing were bomber jackets and rope gold chains. Seriously, two dancers on the bar and camera and we would have all been on BET. Maybe it's just a Friday night thing, I don't know. Here though, I dialed it back and shared a pizza with some fellow revelers - old school FAMUans - to get my mind right. And because we it was the last stop, then, in the small space near the door, Spanky and her gang of friends made a dance floor appear. Ah, grand attempts at recaptured youth. I finally abandoned them to their grooving the night away probably around 1am or so, which is not to shabby for an old man.

I like stuff like this, new and different things, which involved exercise and camaraderie, with the nip with new friends and old serving as the carrot to entice us all. When I have more time in the Spring hopefully I'll be able to do this all again.

Barkeep, I'll need some hair dye and the address of a good barber. 

More Moments I Meant to Comment On

Ramblings Post #238
Standing there, the force of the wind holding him vertical more than the muscles in his legs, he tried to focus on the sign in the distance, the marker that would tell him if he was on the proper path or if he started his trek in the wrong direction. Stiffly, each footstep like a slog through a million years of humanity he approached. He reached up and raised his goggles, the lenses now a haze. The markings took shape to his weary eyes, and as he came to realize them....

I've had...something this week. At first I thought it was allergies, then the sniffles, then the dreaded summer cold. But then I got chills, my stomach was upset, I think I had a fever (I'm a guy, I don't own a thermometer), and there was the sneezing and the itchy eyes and I was always tired, so I surmised it must be a cold. Or the flu or maybe the plague, or cancer, or whatever it was the commercial was selling that pill for, and now my body clock is screwed and I need to get back to right.

But a lot of things happened this week that had I been fully cognizant I would have commented on so now I need to catch up. Hopefully some this is actually still relevant.

Football

I think I spoke to soon. This new season is kind of why we love football. Because even though we have been proven true in our predictions for greatness in Seattle and Denver, there are the pleasant surprises like Kansas City and the early season woes for Pittsburgh. Hey, I know a lot of obnoxious Steeler fans, gimme a break! And as Philly is now 1-2, somebody has discovered how to tame that potential beast we all saw that first game. The rest of the NFC east, please take notes. And, double bonus, the Cowboys with a win can be first in the NFC East this week. At least before the inevitable let down in December. Hey, we take our moments where we can get them!

The new Pope

My conservative FB friend is one those individuals who has a "unique" understanding of religion. And by unique I mean her interpretation is THE correct one. If your vision of how things are supposed to be differs from theirs, then you are wrong. No debate, you wrong. This understanding of hers exists in a state of superiority over all authorities, biblical scholars, possibly the bible itself and up to and including the Pope. Because according to her, the Pope is off his nut and needs to get his mind right. I pray for her pastor, and hope he's on his game every Sunday.

The New TV season

I don't watch near as much new Television as I used to. Syndication and online episodes are my friend. Is a new season still a thing?

The Looming Government Shutdown

There is a point in a long con where things get dangerous, where you forget that the whole thing is a con and you start believing in your own shenanigans. I realize that the GOP of late likes to re-write history to fit it's narrative, but have they forgotten what happened last time they actually got that far? To point of actually shutting down government? The aftermath wasn't pretty for them. And since to get the majority they have now they had to rise to new heights of gerrymandering creativity, has the idea that which can be created can be taken apart just as easily just not occurred to them?

Grand Theft Auto V

Well, damn. And, thank god for gift cards.

Blackberry

For the record I still use a Blackberry. I've been meaning to upgrade but I'm, er, how can say this, um, ...economically challenged. But it looks like I need to step it up before my cell turns into a little black brick that I like to hold to my ear from time to time. I knew they were in trouble but wow.


Had I left the house to go anywhere other than the grocery store to get various medicines, none of which seem to be working,  there might be more. Okay, there wouldn't be much more, but there might. There is always hope. I'm re-reading my accumulated library in hopes of an epiphany, or at least some inspiration. Time goes on. We go with.

Barkeep, let me get a Benadryl and Claritin smoothie, with a shot of Tylenol and a shot of Mucinex. And three shots of vodka for flavor. 

Welcome to Seattle, Georgia

Ramblings Post #231
And now, having re-taken the bar we start again on the last leg of this life transition: The starting point of a new career. It does not promise to be easy. Along with the usual methods of work search, I'm stepping outside the box on this one, trying to some stuff outside my comfort zone, mixing things up. It is said however, that if you like what you do, you'll never have to work a day in your life. But if you enjoy work? 

There exists a scientific theory that occasionally the outer surface of the globe shifts, suddenly, so that things that were at the equator would end up near one of the poles and vice-versa. I think it's based on the findings of the last meal of a frozen mammoth in Siberia, but I'm not sure. That's one explanation...that or magic. Magic might explain how it happened. Magic makes a lot of sense when I think about it. Or just an outside chance that meteorology could shed some light. Like we're at the edge of the largest low pressure system in history. Or a monsoon trough shifted.

Because it is raining in Atlanta like we all believe it does in Seattle.

I've never been to Seattle so I don't actually know if the stories are true that it exists in a constant state of dampness, but this summer it has rained almost every day in Atlanta like one imagines it does in the great Northwest. Every single day. Drizzle, thunderstorm, downpour, something. It's a wonder my house hasn't slid off the hill into the street (note: I live on a hillside). The minimal topsoil which sustained the overgrowth I cut back when I moved in is long gone...probably somewhere down the street hooking up with a cheap crabgrass. The lot across the street the owner dutifully has cut once a month looks like a savannah in the midst of the two jungles sprouting from the adjacent untended lots, the broad leaves of whatever that is growing wild towering over it on either side.  At some point I'm going to have to rent that Extendable chainsaw from Home Depot and have them cut back tree growth, something I didn't think would have to happen for another two or three years.

And just so you know, rain messes up the vibe of a city like Atlanta. This a patio town - i.e., the party is on the patio! Or the deck - wood or rooftop. Or a festival. Or the park - bring your own chair and no glass please. This summer's weather, combined with age and these things called "children" my friends keep having have conspired to end all the cookouts, BBQs, hangouts and other shenanigans that keep you from re-grouting your tile or cleaning out your closets. Because if its raining... your options are limited and you end up at places where they have irritating things like "cover charges" and they ask you to pay for drinks. Sometimes you even have to put on long pants! Oh the horror!

Bad enough I've been out of the loop and am having to slide back in slowly, the loop is on pause until the city dries out. Bad enough the few times I've ventured out my graying hair and desire to hold a conversation (as opposed to live facebook the happening) have me taking the role of "old man in the club." Keep in mind that I'm not currently rich enough to play that role. And even if I was, the whole thing feels unclean. And the clubs for people my age are too many jurisdictions away. And it rains every day. Which is why I'm thinking of doing more video game reviews.

Oh, wait, is it raining again? Well it rained this morning around 2am and it has been a little over 12 hours. Feels like we're about due.

Barkeep. I need the driest drink you have. It's a symbolism thing.