Thursday, 5/31

Pardon my French, but where the heck has May gone?

I guess I haven’t been paying much attention to time recently, although given the packed schedule I’ve had so far this month I can’t say that I‘m surprised. That’s why, when I sat down to write this blog and typed out the words “Thursday, 5/31”, my mind started to lock up the same way your computer does when your web browser tries to open 22 pop up windows all at the same time.

Trust me. It wasn’t pretty.

May is done. How the heck did that even happen? Memorial Day was, like, three days ago. Does it seem to you like Memorial Day was three days ago? It sure didn’t seem to me like Memorial Day was three days ago. Yet if you look at a calendar--and seeing as how calendars really don’t lie--Memorial Day was indeed, like, three days ago.

If things keep going the way they are, I’ll go to bed tonight, wake up tomorrow, and find that it’s Thanksgiving, or something. Yikes.

I know my busy schedule is partly to blame for May slipping away, and I know that the two weekends we've been traveling could conceivably share some of the blame. But it just doesn’t seem physically possible that May is done. Something just seems. . . fundamentally wrong with that. Yet I know that time doesn’t not speed up. It doesn’t slow down. It just . . .is. Time is one of the few constants in our life.

Even if our perception of it gets skewed from (pardon the almost unintentional pun) time to time.

I know that whining about the quick passage of time is about as effective as whining about the weather. No amount of whining will stop what I don’t like about it, and as you all know, I’ve certainly tried, at least as far as the weather is concerned. So I won’t be spending days or weeks or months decrying the fact that time is busily slipping by. If I only have a finite amount of time, and if my perception of that time is that it’s rapidly speeding by; well, you know what?

I can certainly use my time to do things OTHER than whining about the rapid passage of time. So I’ll stop bringing the topic up. Or, at the very least, I’ll stop bringing it up until “tomorrow”, when I go to write another blog, and find my mind has been blowing because I’m typing “Tuesday, 7/23”, or some other such date.

****

Before I leave for today, I'd like to note the passing of a long-time listener of our station, Ray Krellwitz. You may not have known him by name, but you may have known him as “Ray from Marquette”, who would call in most Throwback Thursdays with an Instant Request for (usually) a classic love song from the 70s or 80s, and always end his call with a cheery “Thank you!”. I always looked forward to our Thursday meetings, and I will miss hearing from him.

RIP, Ray from Marquette.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 5/30

Consider this the yang to last week's chocolate ying.

You may recall last week when I wrote a blog about a European chocolate bar that didn't find especially noteworthy, a Galler Dark Chocolate with Mint & Lime bar. I know it shocked some people, and it even struck me as a rare case of coming across a piece of chocolate that wasn't in some way amazing. Well, I'm happy to report that that memory has now been erased after my first bite of THIS bar--

That is a Lindt dark chocolate bar with a liquid blueberry/lavender filling in each and every piece. I love dark chocolate. Blueberries are among my favorite fruit ever. And I've been on this lavender kick recently, making lavender sugar cookies, enjoying lavender yogurt and lavender-infused goat cheese form the Marquette Food Co-op, and realizing that the one & only beer I've ever really liked is Blackrock's Honey Lavender beer.

Therefore, I guess, it should be no surprise that I (figuratively) exploded in delight after the first bite of this bar.

This is actually the second bar I purchased in Germany last year that I wish I had purchased more of, because you can't seem to get them anywhere other than in a Lindt outlet store (like the one at which I purchased this bar, in Heidelberg). I wish that I bought six or seven of these blueberry & lavender bars, and I also wished I had picked up a couple of their dark chocolate grapefruit bars. Now, I know you may be recoiling in horror at the thought of mixing dark chocolate and grapefruit. Even I kinda had that same reaction when I first saw it. But you know what? It worked. There's no way it should of, but the combination of the dark chocolate and the grapefruit oil really worked.

I mean, it didn't work quite as well as the blueberry lavender bar, but it was light years ahead of the mint lime bar.

All this means that I have a new task ahead of me before we leave for Germany in just under three months. That new task will be to find out if there are any Lindt outlet stores in the areas we're visiting, and if so, to find out if they're still making the two bars. I mean, if the grapefruit bar was a limited edition, I might be able to live with that. But if the blueberry/lavender bars are no longer produced I may have to spend the entire trip wiping away the tears of sadness that will be flowing non-stop from my red, red eyes.

The chocolate bar is THAT good.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 5/29

Wait—you guys had a hailstorm Saturday and I missed it?

Bummer.

First of all, hope you had a relatively pain-free holiday weekend, even if the people who were in Marquette County Saturday didn't. I wasn't here (more on that in a sec) but from the stories I've heard and the pictures I've seen it was quite the savage beast. Maybe not quite as bad as the one that single-handedly kept auto body shops and roof repair places in business for over a year back in 2007, but it seems like this weekend's rain-hailstorm was pretty nasty.

So glad I missed it!

Where was I Saturday, you ask? Well, I answer, I went to Ironwood for a couple of high school graduation parties. It was a glorious, sunny 90 degrees while were were there (but a dry 90 degrees), so when we got back to the hotel and read about the havoc that had been unleashed on the rest of the U.P. we were quite shocked. But like I said—we had no idea what was going on back home.

After the grad parties we took a walk around Ironwood. Except for driving through on the way to Duluth I don't think I've ever actually stopped to explore the place, and I can say I'm glad I did. There's a lot there for a history geek, like old sandstone buildings--

Weird art carved out of tree trunks--

And houses so cheap that you can apparently buy them for about the same price Loraine paid for her new car (and on Marquette Street, to boot)!

That's something I noticed abut Ironwood. They have an area of nicely preserved, well-kept buildings; in fact, a nice chunk of their walkable and picturesque downtown looks like this--

In my opinion, at least, I think it may be one of the better downtowns I've seen in the U.P. But then, just a block or two away from the “preserved” (for lack of a better term) area there's a whole other part of town where most of the buildings look like this--

I found the dichotomy between the two quite fascinating. I don't think I've ever noticed quite so stark a contrast as I did in Ironwood. But I understand it fully. When you're losing over 10 percent of your population every ten years, I guess you have to make choices of what to keep and what to let go. And at least they're making sure that the part that's still there and still viable is in great shape. Not every community would do that. So a big thumbs-up to the civic leaders of Ironwood for making the hard decisions. Hopefully, more people will discover what a cool little place it is and pay it a visit.

Speaking of discovering things, we discovered something else in downtown Ironwood, too. Like Marquette, they have a branch of Contrast Coffee, one of my new favorite places. Unlike the one in Marquette, they have a bakery in the back, a bakery that produced one of the most amazing things I've tasted recently.

Say “hello” to a Malted Milk Ball scone--

I don't know how to describe it, except to mention that the thing I said after taking the first bite was “wow”. And I kept repeating that word each and every time I took another bite until I (sadly) finished it. If you every see baked goods from “Yooper Delight” bakery you HAFTA check them out. Especially if you see a Malted Milk Ball scone.

You won't be sorry!

Then we returned home Sunday to find that there was something awaiting us--

And, well, that's pretty much what occupied me the rest of the weekend.

Yes, I know I need help. My name is Jim, and I'm a lilac-holic.

(jim@wmqt.com), lilac-holic.

Friday, 5/25

It should be a fun weekend. We all have an extra day off, the temperatures should be warm, and when it's not raining we should continue our trek directly from winter to summer, bypassing spring this year.

Plus the lilacs should finally come out.

However, there one other thing you may want to do this weekend, and that's take a few minutes to reflect on just why we have that extra day off. As you know, I’m married to someone who’s working to keep alive the memories of the men & women from Marquette and Alger Counties who were killed during World War II. She’s doing it because those memories, like all memories, would eventually disappear as the years wear on, and the people who gave their lives for this country deserve better than that.

As an example of how those memories can slowly disappear, I’d like to introduce you to a young man from Marquette named Morgan Mowick--

A couple of years ago we were walking through Park Cemetery and came across Morgan’s grave. It simply says that he died on March 27^th, 1918 while serving with the 174^th Aero Squadron of the U.S. Allied Expeditionary Force during World War I. That’s it. So I decided to see if I could find out anything about him. And that’s when I realized that memories can disappear over time.

Thanks to Loraine, I know how to look up things on soldiers who died while in service. I know where to look in newspapers, I know which websites have the best information. It’s just one of the many benefits to being married to a very remarkable woman. But when I looked into those newspapers and searched those websites, I realized that information from a war, even a World War, from 100 years ago is sketchy at best.

All I could find out about Morgan is that he grew up at 421 East Hewitt Avenue in Marquette, was a member of what’s now the First United Methodist Church, contracted pneumonia while on the way over to Europe, was left at a hospital when his ship docked, and died soon afterward. His body was then sent back to Marquette for burial, where he still lies next to his parents. I was actually able to find out more about his dad, who was a Marquette house painter of some repute, than I was about Morgan himself.

That’s it. All I found were two newspaper articles from just after he died, one with a letter sent to his father by his commander right after his death, and the other a reprint of a sermon given by his church’s minister for several members of the church who had died in the conflict. Those two articles seem to represent the entire legacy of a young man who left his home to fight for a better world and died while doing it.

I’d like to think that people like Morgan deserve better.

So, like I said, spend a few minutes this weekend honoring, visiting, or just thinking about the people who have made that sacrifice, the one that allows you to have an extra day off. And if you have someone in your family who fits into that category, make sure that you do whatever you can to help preserve their legacy. They sure deserve it.

On that note, have yourself a great weekend. See you Tuesday!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 5/24

They're so close you can almost smell them.

The past few days of really warm weather here in Marquette has caused an explosion in the amount of tree & plant sprouting throughout the area. What a few days ago looked like this--

Now looks like this--

That includes the buds on my favorite lilac tree. Over the past few days their growth seems to have accelerated, to the point that they now look like this--

While I know next to nothing about any facts pertaining to any other branch (no pun intended, at least not much) of horticulture I DO a little about lilacs, thanks to my life-long obsession with them. And if I had to proffer my best guess, based on years of watching and waiting, I'd guess that they'll be blooming and sniffable by the end of the holiday weekend.

So if I'm not at work Tuesday you now know why.

It's just nice to see color around Marquette for the first time in months. Not only are all the trees rapidly turning green, but everywhere you look there's an explosion of color--

It's quite the marked difference from the browns, grays, & blacks we've had since the snow melted. I've always maintained that the one time of the year that Marquette's really not attractive is the time between the melting of the snow and the explosion of summer colors. It's nice to know we've moved out of it quickly this year.

Now, for the next three or four months, we can be among the most beautiful places on the planet!

(jim@wmqt.com), anxiously awaiting the blooming of the lilacs.

Wednesday, 5/23

I’m guessing the person who sent the e-mail doesn’t know me at all.

The e-mail in question was one I received yesterday from a listener who had just driven by the station as I was standing outside. As you may know, on a nice day--especially a nice day like yesterday--I’ll stand outside for a minute a few times a day and eat some salmon or down some yogurt or slurp some tea. It must’ve during one of those time that the listener, driving by, saw me and sent this note--

“Just wanted. . .to say I saw you out on your cigarette break enjoying the sun.”.

First of all, thanks for the note. I always enjoy getting them. And yes, I was out enjoying the sun, something I haven’t been able to do much of yet this spring. But being out there on a cigarette break? Sit down; we need to talk.

Those of you who know me know I don’t smoke. Those of you who know me know that I’m an avid non-smoker. Those of you who know me know that one of the greatest days of my life was April 30^th, 2010, when Michigan’s smoking ban went into effect and I could then go into any bar or restaurant I'd like without the risk of dying. I’ve never smoked; I’ve never even had the desire to smoke. And I go out of my way to avoid people or places where there’s even a whiff of second hand smoke.

Obviously, the person who sent the e-mail doesn’t know me.

When I sent her back a note explaining that I don’t smoke and was eating tuna (or something), she immediately shot one back apologizing for her mistake. She said she’s known a couple of radio people in her life, and they all smoked like chimneys. I’m not surprised by that. When I started doing this job back in the 19^th century many of the people with whom I worked did smoke, much to the detriment of their voices, nearby equipment, and one young co-worker. In fact, that’s one of the reasons why I’m working where I‘m working. When I was offered my current job decades and decades ago one of the selling points was that it was in a non-smoking environment, and seeing as how I was (then) working at a place up here where EVERYONE smoked like chimneys in the office (even though I had a sign on my desk that said “Cancer cures smoking”), that was what sealed the deal.

Well, that, and I wouldn’t have to listen to oldies every day.

So if you see me standing outside the station on a warm sunny day, there will probably be something in my mouth, but you can be assured that it won’t be a cigarette.

Keep those e-mails coming!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 5/22

I know this may be shocking to some, akin to hell freezing over or the Detroit Lions going to the Super Bowl, but I think I've made a discovery--

I think there may be a kind of chocolate I don't especially like.

Stunning, isn't it?

And to be factually accurate, it would be the second kind of chocolate I've discovered I don't especially like. The first was a dark chocolate/black currant bar I picked up in Berlin five years ago. I wasn't too sure about it when I bought it, as I've never been a big fan of black currants, even though Germans seem to love them. So I wasn't too surprised when I found that bar a little too bitter for my tastes. But I kinda thought I might like this new bar I picked up in Belgium last year a little better.

Sadly, I was wrong.

The bar in question?

It's a 70% part with mint & lime.(citron verte). It's basically a chocolate bar version of a mojito, and when I bought it I figured it would be interesting. I mean, I like chocolate, I like mint, and I like limes. What could go wrong, right?

Well, sad to say, it just didn't do it for me. I mean, I didn't find it as unappetizing as the black currant bar, but it still didn't live up to my expectations. The lime and the mint flavors were each a bit too strong, and I think Loraine hit it on the head when I gave her a bite—those two strong flavors are basically the only things you can taste. You can't even tell there's chocolate in there. Sure; there's the mouth feel of chocolate when you're eating it, but but you really can't taste the chocolate over the mint & the lime. And since Galler, the company that produces the bar, makes some of the best chocolate in the world, that's a bummer.

Oh well.

I'm not disappointed I bought the bar; in fact, experimenting with weird chocolate flavors is one of the reasons I love going to Europe. I just don't think I'll need to buy it again. I mean, I'll buy as many dark chocolate mint bars I can find. And if someone puts together a dark chocolate lime bar, I'll try that, too.

I just don't think I need to try them all mixed together again.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 5/21

It would be an amazingly hard choice.

I don't recall why, but I got into a discussion when I was downstate last weekend with someone about ice cream and our favorite flavors. As the discussion grew, the ultimate question was asked, and I have to admit it was one I couldn't answer--

If I could only have one flavor of ice cream the rest of my life, what would it be?

I know; that's like asking someone to choose between having only water or oxygen the rest of their life. I don't know how it could be done. How WOULD you choose one and only one ice cream flavor to eat until you shuffle off this mortal coil? Needless to say, I couldn't answer the question right off the bat, and even after giving it a lot of thought for a week or so, I still can't. I mean, I can narrow it down to a few favorites, but once you get passed that, it's almost impossible.

I can narrow it down to three—Jilbert's Amaretto Mackinaw Island Fudge, any brand of Mint Chocolate Chip, and a (believe it or not) vanilla that I had as part of a sundae last year at Donckers, a vanilla that was so sublime that I almost wept tears of joy. So I can get my choice down to three, and that's when my thought processes start to implode.

I just don't know which to choose.

The Amaretto Mackinaw Island Fudge has two of my favorite flavors ever, cherry and chocolate. I've loved Mint Chocolate Chip since I was a kid, and it's the ice cream I have to have every year on my birthday (to go along with the pumpkin bars I have every year on my birthday). And like I said, the vanilla I had at Donckers, which comes from a boutique ice cream company, was so ridiculously vanilla-y that it defied description.

Now do you see why I couldn't choose? Well, actually, I'm guessing most of you are saying, at least to yourself, “Why would you choose any of them?”, and you'd be perfectly valid in saying that. After all, everyone has different tastes, and I'm sure you could forego my choices for an ice cream conundrum of your own. But for me, that's as far as I can get. I can't narrow down the choices any further. And if I was pressed, I think I might rather be forced to choose between oxygen and water.

The choice is just that hard.

(jim@wmqt.com), who's curious to know—what's the one flavor YOU couldn't live without?

Friday, 5/18

Guess what I did five years ago tomorrow? And if you immediately said to yourself, “Well, knowing you, Jim, probably something stupid”, you'd be absolutely right.

For those of you who haven't been reading these for years now, five years ago tomorrow I had my little bike accident. I was riding on the west Marquette bike path behind Loraine, wasn't looking where I was going, ran the front tire of my bike into the rear tire of hers, and watched one or two laws of momentum take over. She didn't even know anything happened, while I hit the bike path face first, losing a front tooth, getting six stitches sewn around my right eye, tearing up my right hand (causing my fingers to swell up, which led to my first wedding ring getting cut off), and generally filling my shoulders and legs with cuts, the scar of one still sitting on my left knee.

Ah, that was a good time.

Like many things in life, it doesn't seem like it's been that long. It doesn't seem like it's been five years, but it has. Thankfully, aside from the scar and a new wedding ring, I've made a full recovery from any injuries I had. I was actually quite lucky; I was able to resume working out a few days later (although the only thing I could do pain-free was to ride a bike, ironically), and all the external injuries healed shortly thereafter. In fact, every time I went to see the dentist after having my front tooth replaced, he had to look and see how well it turned out (because it turned out AMAZINGLY well. You can't even tell it's not a real tooth).

In all, though, it's not something I recommend anyone else try.

And it's led to a very weird reflexive action on my part. It hasn't affected my bike riding or anything, but it has changed the way I watch a certain sport on television. As you know, I love watching the Tour de France on TV each year (just as I'm currently watching the Tour of California this week), and as happens during professional bike races accidents occur. Sometimes, really bad accidents occur. And whenever they happen to show a crash I have to look away from the screen right away. I just can't watch it.

It's weird. I had no problem getting back on the (metaphorical) horse a few days after falling off, but whenever I see a bike accident on TV? I cringe a little. Go figure.

Anyway, that's the anniversary I'm celebrating tomorrow. Maybe I'll mark it by actually getting my bike out and riding it for the first time this year. I think it'd be a perfect time to do that. I'll just have to remember NOT to ride into Loraine's tire this time.

Have a great (and accident-free) weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 5/17

To paraphrase a great American philosopher, the waiting really IS the hardest part.

I kinda thought this would happen. I kinda thought that my brief encounters with lilacs while downstate last weekend would trigger this yearning for our flowers up here to bloom. And while I'm loathe to say it, I was right. I wish I wasn't.

But I was.

Now, when I walk to work every day, when I come across my favorite lilac tree and see this--

I'm mentally shouting “hurry up you guys” at the top of my lungs. Thankfully, I haven't shouted it out loud yet; however, should the Mining Journal police log say something along the lines of “lunatic yelling at tree, 300 block of north Front Street”, you'll know who they're talking about.

Really, you will.

Based on my obsession with these flowers, I know that we're not that far away from their blooming. In fact, I can tell you, based on how big they are in the picture, that on or around Memorial Day they should be ready to sniff. But having already caught a few whiffs for the season while downstate, I don't know if I can wait that long. I've already caught my first whiff, and now I'm jonesing for my next. I know it's not healthy; I know I should probably have a little more self control. But I don't. I've said it before and I'll say it again--

My name is Jim, and I'm a lilac-holic.

(jim@wmqt.com), patiently (and occasionally not so patiently) waiting for the lilacs to bloom.

Wednesday, 5/16

Back in school, I’m sure that you learned of the concept of a “melting pot”, a place where people of all different locations and backgrounds come together. The U.S. as a whole has been described as a giant “melting pot”, while various cities within the country have the same designation. Can I put forward a concept along those lines? Here goes--

Marquette is the melting pot of the U.P.

After you stop laughing, I want you to think about it for a bit. I based my conclusion on callers I get when I do “What’s Up, U.P.” every afternoon. Very often, the winners come from Marquette, while the questions have something to do with Upper Michigan communities other than Marquette. And when I ask the caller how they know the answer, more often than not they reply “I grew up there” or “I’m from there” or “my grandparents lived there”.

And when you think about it, that’s not much of a surprise. I mean, how many Upper Michigan high school graduates come to Marquette to go to Northern? How many Upper Michigan residents come to Marquette to work in medicine or education or the arts? How many Upper Michigan residents come to Marquette to be closer to other family members? Heck, how many people move to Marquette just so they don’t have to drive very far to shop?

Okay, maybe I’m being a bit facetious with that last one, but I don’t think I’m that far off the mark. Marquette seems to be one of those places that has a highly fluid population; people are moving in and out all the time. And it seems like those people are coming from (or leaving to) other locations in the U.P. Think about it--in my case, in just the last 24 hours, I’ve talked with people born in Calumet, Carlshend, Escanaba, and Munising who now live in Marquette. And those are just the people I KNOW. I can just imagine the others with whom I’ve spoken who were born in Ontonagon or Kingsford or, say, Traunik.

And that is in NO way a bad thing. At a time when people young and old are leaving the state of Michigan, it’s nice that there could potentially be a place close to home where at least a few people feel they can find a future. If that place is Marquette, well, we welcome you with open arms to our new Yooper “melting pot”.

Amazing what you find out answering contest questions on the air, huh?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 5/15

Greetings from the engineering masterpiece that is I-75. I have no idea where on I-75; if it helps, there are trees on the left hand side and trees on the right hand side. So wherever that is, that's where we are at the moment.

We had a great time on our little weekend jaunt down to see Loraine's family. In fact, I think we ate so much that I don''t think I'll ever have to eat again. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, I'll leave it up to you to decide. We had a great time with her family (hi, Aunt Suzanne!) and their various pets. And perhaps most importantly, the timing worked out for me to be able to stick my nose in these--

Any extra chance to smell the nectar of the gods is worth the 350 mile drive.

I know I stuck up a picture of the “Awesome Flatness of Reese” before we left, but like I do everywhere we go I wandered around the place with a camera to see what I can see. And while there aren't hills or water to shoot, Reese does have its own unique charms. The reason it was founded is because it sits at the crossroads of two railroad lines, so you see signs of that everywhere--

Now, of course, it's around because of the farms in the area; most of the businesses in town exist to serve that end--

But, like any small town, it still has a few things that make it unique.

I mentioned the lilacs, right? It was also nice to see trees that have actually bloomed for the year--

As have a whole bunch of other flowers--

But, just about everywhere you look, you see “The Awesome Flatness”--

It will, however, be nice to be back home, even if we're still weeks away from the lilacs blooming and even if it's just back to the grind. But thank you, Mom & Dad Light, for a great weekend, and thank you, Reese, for giving them a place to call home.

And for your awesome flatness!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 5/10

And welcome to the “Awesome Flatness of Reese”!

This is where Loraine was born and where we’ll be heading this weekend, a little community about the size of Gwinn 15 miles due east of Saginaw. And when Loraine coined the phrase “Awesome Flatness of Reese”, she wasn’t kidding. It’s flat there. . .it’s really really flat there. I think this is a perfect example of the “Flatness”--on a clear day you can even see the Zilwaukee Bridge from Reese. Now, while the Zilwaukee Bridge is about 400 feet about I-75 over the Zilwaukee River, it’s also 11 miles away from her parents’ house, which means that between Reese and the Bridge there’s nothing to get in the way of the view, nothing except the “Awesome Flatness” of the area. Not a tree, not a hill, not anything.

It’s astounding.

Speaking as someone who grew up with hills, trees, and water, I couldn’t believe Reese the first time Loraine showed it to me. Up until that point in my life I don’t think I had ever seen anything quite that flat. I mean, if you had a frictionless ball rolling down a frictionless road in Reese, it’d probably coast for miles before stopping at the crest of the nearest hill, which is about 8 miles away from Reese and, oh, about 5 feet high, which I believe makes it the highest spot of Saginaw County.

Have I mentioned it’s really really flat there?

Not only is it flat, but it’s an interesting place to drive, as well. You see, most of the roads in the area are just wide enough to fit between the drainage ditches of two farm fields. What that means is that you have a road with no shoulder and then an immediate 6 to 10-foot drop off into the drainage ditch that surrounds it. Some of the people who live there won’t, in fact, drive on some of those roads when it’s icy, if only because they don’t want their car to slip into one of those drainage ditches.

And I can’t say I blame them.

Unless you grew up there, I don’t think you actually ever get used to being able to glance out a car window and see something 9 or 10 miles away. To me, at least, it’s just. . .weird. Maybe not to someone who grew up in Kansas or North Dakota, but to me, it’s almost unnatural. Don’t worry, though, I shall survive. And I’ll always have an abiding fondness for Reese, if only because that’s where Loraine came from. . .no matter how flat it is.

And trust me--it’s really really flat.

****

There won't be a new one of these tomorrow or Monday, although I WILL be writing one while on t6he way back in the car Monday. If I feel ambitious I may even post it then. If not, see you again on Tuesday!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 5/9

I’ve given some serious thought recently to waxing my legs.

Oh, laugh you may, but the thoughts have indeed been serious. Because of the ever-lingering cold weather, I haven’t been able to wear shorts much yet (which I try to do every day it’s over, say, 32 degrees). Since I’m not wearing shorts, my pants stay on. And since one usually wears socks with pants; well, let’s just say that the fur on my legs gets awfully itchy by the time my day is done and my socks get removed. Loraine laughs at me on a nightly basis as I sit on the bed and scratch my legs, which leads me to think that, if only to stop both her laughing and the itching, I should get rid of the hair on my legs.

Right now, I imagine every woman reading this is chuckling hysterically. After all, guys have it SOOOOO much easier than women when it comes to the physical maintenance part of being an adult; I know some men who just sniff their pits and, if they don’t pass out, think they’re set for the day. Women, however, endure the application of makeup, the fixing the hair on the head, the removal of hair on the rest of their body, and so much more. It’s not fair, but that’s the way it is.

Now, because the majority of my friends are women, and because some of them treat me as a close girlfriend, I’ve been subjected to horror stories regarding hair removal, and I know that I’m WAAAAAY too wimpy to have hot wax poured on my legs, much less then endure the pain of having the fur on my legs ripped off. I mean, maybe my calves and shins; I scrape those up enough exercising so that I’m thinking they’re toughened up a bit. But my thighs?

OUCH!!!

I have a low pain threshold as it is, and I can’t imagine what THAT particular ripping process feels like, especially as you get further up the thigh. That’s tender skin up there!

Well, now that I’ve written this and made myself all squeamish, I guess I’m just gonna have to keep scratching every night. Well, that, and hope the weather gets and stays warmer soon so I can start wearing nothing but shorts for four or five months. After all, that hasta happen sometime soon. . .

Right?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 5/8

I'm glad they were able to pay him a visit.

Some of you may know about the Marquette Senior High School “We The People” team, a group of students who just went to Washington DC to take part in a national scholastic competition. They didn't win, but they did have the time of their lives there, including an unexpected—but highly appreciated—visit to a grave.

Let me explain—I received a call last week from Fred Cole, who teaches A.P. Government at the High School and who is the coach of the team. Fred & I used to live next to each other, where we would spend hours on certain winter mornings shoveling out our adjoining driveways and sidewalks. Anyway, the “We The People” team had ordered a wreath that they had planned on placing at the Vietnam Memorial but the wreath was delivered a day late. Knowing of Loraine's research, he wondered if there was someone from Marquette buried at Arlington National Cemetery, which was one of their stops the next day. He figured that if there was someone from Marquette buried there the kids could place the wreath at that person's grave.

As it turns out, there is. Alfred “Jo Jo” Clement was one of two men from Marquette killed in early September, 1944, trying to cross the Moselle River near the small town of Dornot, France. The body of the other, Sam DePetro, was recovered after the war and sent back to Marquette, while Clement's body wasn't found until almost 60 years later, when a French group called “Thanks, G.I.s”, a group that specialized in trying to recover missing servicemen from French soil, discovered remains near the battle site. DNA tests showed it was Clement, and he was returned to the U.S., eventually being buried at Arlington amongst people who died in Iraq and Afghanistan. So when Fred called, I knew where the kids could go.

And they did--

(picture courtesy of the MSHS AP Gov Facebook page)

I think it's nice that during a whirlwind trip to the national's capital, a trip that included not only a scholastic competition but also as much sightseeing as they could cram into the few days they were there, that the kids paid their respects to someone who died 55 years before they were born. Whenever we visit military cemeteries overseas we always stop and pay our respects to the people from “home” who are buried there. I think it's cool that the “We The People” team did the same.

I'm sure Alfred Clement would appreciate it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 5/7

This is gonna be a fun week, he says sarcastically.

Actually, I should drop the last part of that sentence. It IS gonna be a fun week. I just have to figure out how to get everything done. For, you see, I get to spend Tuesday afternoon at the circus, and I get to spend Friday driving downstate for a long weekend at Loraine's parents. Put that together with all the work I have to do ahead of time to be able to take a four-day weekend off, and THAT'S why I may have been overly sarcastic.

Even though it actually WILL be a lot of fun.

When we did our circus contest last year I went along to do a live broadcast and to take pictures, and I'll let you know that the winners and the kids did have the time of their lives. I'm hoping that happens again this year. And then it'll be nice to spend Mother's Day weekend down with Loraine's family. It's been a couple of years since we've visited—in fact, the last time was three years ago for a funeral—and if nothing else, it'll provide a nice road trip for Loraine's brand new car, which has had a total of, uhm, 9 miles put on it since she picked it up ten days ago. Not only that, but I'll get to hang out with Loraine's teenage nephew Jeremy, who's perhaps a bigger “Star Wars” dork than I am. We'll get to have fun while the “adults” are doing “adult” things.

That'll be a blast.

So all I have to do is make sure everything's set to go before we leave. As you may recall, I usually have to work ahead almost a full day for every day we're gone somewhere. We're only gonna be gone two 'work” days this time, so hopefully I'll be able to fit it all in, despite the fact that I'm spending part of Tuesday at the circus. If nothing else, it'll be good practice for getting ready for our German expedition in a few months.

You know, make sure I work out all the kinks, and the like.

I promise not to whine, complain, or otherwise foist any negative emotions on you for the rest of the week. After all, I'm going to the circus, and heading out on a road trip. That's not too bad of a way to spend a week in early May, is it?

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 5/4

Three cars, a motor home, and a bulldozer. For not owning any of those five items, I seem to have developed a talent for selling them.

Who knew?

We've now sold Loraine's “old” car, that five year old vehicle with 9,000 miles on. Didn't take very long, either; four days after the first person looked at it that person walked away with the keys and the title. So that's one less thing we have to worry about. And that started me thinking, which, as we all know, can be a dangerous thing--

In the past seven years I've listed six things for sale on Craigslist (), and five of those things have sold with no problem whatsoever. I mean, technically, I didn't actually own any of those things I sold, but that's not TOO big of a deal, is it?

I've sold Loraine's “old” car, and the two cars she owned before that—the dark green one and the blue one (showing, of course, how much I know about cars, that's how they're referred to). I've also helped my parents sell a motor home, and a bulldozer they had lying around (what—your parents don't have pieces of construction equipment sitting around?). So through the site I've sold five big pieces of metal (pieces of metal I didn't own) with a minimal amount of effort.

Then why does no one want to buy a bike we have listed?

I personally think it's kind of funny. I've been able to sell five big “toys”, stuff that I wouldn't be caught dead with. Yet the one thing I WOULD be proud to say I owned—Loraine's classic Trek mountain bike—hasn't had so much as a nibble. Cars, motor homes, and bulldozers, no problems. But a bike? The official vehicle of the city of Marquette?

Nope.

Admittedly, I tried selling the bike in the middle of winter, probably not the best time to sell a bike, even in Marquette. And admittedly, a new bike costs a lot less than a new car, a new motor home, or a new bulldozer, so people might not be in the market for a used one. But still, it's a classic Trek mountain bike. You'd think someone would want it, even if just to use as the “beater” version of a bike, the same way people have “beater” cars.

But nope. So far, no one's taken the bait.

So if you know anyone's who's looking for a classic Trek mountain bike, send 'em my way. It doesn't cost a lot; we just wanna get rid of it. And, if it also extends my streak of perfect sales on Craigslist, so much the better.

After all, if I can get a bulldozer I didn't own sold, a bike (in Marquette) should be a piece of cake, right?

8-)

Have a great weekend...

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 5/3

If you're one of the two people I yelled at at the top of my lungs yesterday, I'm sorry. It wasn't personal.

Let me explain. I did not, in fact, yell at anyone to their face. I did not get mad, I did not fly off the handle, and I did not hurt anyone's feelings. Yet I still feel a little bad at what I did.

My “Pop Culture” question yesterday had to do with what the letters “NBC” stand for. I thought it was a fairly straight-forward question; after all, NBC was the country's first broadcast network, on the air for 92 years now, so I figured everyone would know what those three letters stand for.

I was wrong. Just not in the way I figured.

The first answers I received mirrored each other. Each of the callers had the first two letters correctly identified. They knew that the “N” stands for “National”, and that the “B” stands for “Broadcasting”. It's what happened after that that blew my mind. Some callers said “Corporation” or “Channel”, but two people said that the “C”in NBC stands for either “System” or “Service”. And that's a good guess, expect for the fact that if either of those were the correct answer, the company's initials would be “NBS”, and not “NBC”.

And that's when I had my little meltdown.

Well, it wasn't really a meltdown. It was mostly me yelling at the top of my lungs “Doesn't anyone know how to spell any more?” loud enough to travel through a supposedly soundproof wall. I know it was loud enough because another contest winner, standing on the other side of the supposedly soundproof wall waiting to pick up a prize, looked at me like I was losing my mind.

Oops. My bad.

Thankfully someone did get the answer right (the “C” stands for “Company”, if you're curious), restoring my faith in humanity. And maybe I can kind of understand the confusion; after all, the “S” in CBS stands for “System”, not that anyone would know that. So maybe those callers just mixed their metaphors, in a way. Maybe it was an innocent mistake on the part of the callers.

Maybe.

So if you were one of those callers, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you, even of I was just yelling to myself.

It's just one of those things...

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 5/2

I have no idea how I woke up in London.

Don’t worry; I’m not in England at the moment. I didn’t flip out because the warm weather is now gone and all of a sudden felt the need to fly over 5,000 miles for absolutely no reason. Nope. . .I just had what may be the strangest dream in a life of some very strange ones. To wit--

The dream started fairly realistically, with me getting a phone call that something wasn’t going right at work. On occasion, I guess, my dreams become a little too literal, but that’s just part of the price I pay for being me. Anyway, in my dream, I start to head down to the station to see what’s going on, and I all of a sudden find myself on stage, singing with what I later find out is Argentina’s number one Steve Miller cover band (because I’m sure there’s more than one, right?) Anyway, after performing a rather wicked version of “Jet Airliner”, which is kinda funny because I can’t sing worth a darn, I get off-stage and go to my hotel room somewhere in the California desert. I can’t get the door unlocked, which doesn’t bother me too much because, as we all know, the desert can be quite warm during the day, and I like heat. However, when it starts to snow, I fiddle with the door lock a little more, finally getting into the room and going to sleep, only to be awoken by the sounds of Big Ben going off outside my window.

That’s when I woke up in London, and then my dream ended, allowing me once again to wake up, this time in Marquette.

The strange thing is this--those are the only parts of the dream I can actually remember. I have this nagging feeling that a few more things happened during this strange adventure, some of which involved other people and part of which, I do believe, involved some sort of. . .something underground that I wasn’t supposed to see, and I have a feeling that the “something” may have been responsible for my waking up in London. I don’t think, though, that it was responsible for my getting to Argentina in the first place.

I think I did that on my own.

And how did I end up in Argentina and in London? I’ve never been to South America, and while I’ve been in England a bunch of times, it was always just to spend a lovely four hours in the seething pit of humanity that’s known as the Heathrow International Airport waiting lounge. While I’d like to some day, I’ve never been into London, and I’ve certainly never visited Big Ben, although I’ve seen it in so many movies and TV shows that I feel like I know it. My subconscious apparently knows it, and knows it quite well!

Now, as far as I can tell, I didn’t eat anything out of the ordinary, read anything strange, or watch anything bizarre before doing to sleep last night. I had a “normal” day at work There was nothing freaky and/or bizarre about the time leading up to the dream, although as I write this, I’m starting to wonder if maybe that was itself the cause of the dream. I had a “normal” day, and since I don’t often seem to have “normal” days, maybe my psyche was making up for the fact that there wasn’t anything usual to challenge it while I was awake.

Maybe my subconscious was getting back at me for not giving it a new toy to play with that day.

No matter what, though, I’m glad I woke up in Marquette and not in London. Because while it would be nice to wake up one morning in London, especially after hitting the stage with Argentina’s number one Steve Milerl cover band, I’m guessing the commute to work that day would be a killer.

And I don’t know if I’d want to go through that. I like walking three blocks instead of flying 5,000 miles.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 5/1

I LOVED yesterday.

What made me love yesterday? All it took was a 15-minute span around 1pm, when I went outside and took a walk around downtown Marquette, a downtown Marquette filled with sun and a temperature approaching 75 degrees.

It‘s been a long time since I was able to do that, to just go out and enjoy the sun and the “heat”. Actually, it was the first time since October when the temperatures hit 70 here. Now, I realize that compared to, say, July, this was nothing, but after those six long months (not to mention very low seasonal sun angles since that fateful October day) it was nice to get out and “feel” the first taste of the summer to come.

And I know I wasn’t the only one enjoying it, The people I passed on the street all had an extra spring in their steps, and I noticed things I haven’t seen in months, like the young lady with neon orange hair sitting on the steps of old City Hall, the young couple walking down the street, hand-in-hand and oblivious to everything but love, and the guy running up Front Street hill without a shirt, but wearing a hat & gloves.

Spring fever affects different people in different ways, I guess.

I thought about grabbing some food and eating lunch down at Lower Harbor Park, but the ice sheet is still sitting on the other side of the breakwater, and that would’ve blocked out some of the magic the day seemed to have. Besides, there will be other days to do that, days when the temperature’s even warmer and the sun is even brighter.

Sadly, while those days do include today (when it's supposed to be even warmer) they won't include the rest of the week, when temps will be 20 or 30 degrees colder and the sky will be filled with rain, and not sun. But those “other days” are not far away, and after an atypical Upper Michigan winter, it’s something to which we can ALL look forward.

(jim@wmqt.com)