Monday, 12/31

Wait. We're about to head into the final year of a decade? Didn't we just do that, like, a year or so ago?

Time really DOES fly, doesn't it?

As we stand on the precipice of 2019, I'm still trying to figure out what happened to the rest of the teens. It still seems to me like it could be 2009 and we're waiting for the next decade to begin. But no; we've now gone through another ten years of progress, of highs, of lows, of weirdness, of chaos, of hope, and, of course, of getting older.

The teens have been a strange decade, haven't they?

I'm sure this is just me, but I'm actually just starting to get used to calling the decade the “teens” instead of the “ohs”, and in another year that will moot, too. Pretty soon, we'll be in the “20s”, which doesn't seem possible. The 2020s? That's, like, the future, isn't it? Not only that, but the last time we lived through a decade called the 20s they were “Roaring” and ended by giving us the Great Depression. And I'm pretty sure most people would've thought that by the next time the 20s rolled around we wouldn't have to worry about things like depressions and would instead have to worry about things like where we parked our flying car.

But, as we slowly but surely learn, things really don't change that much as time rolls on. Or, at least, things don't change as far as flying cars are concerned. Keep your fingers crossed that the 20s we're staring at in a year don't start the same way the last 20s ended.

So enjoy your final New Year's Day of the teens. Just think—the next time the day rolls around it'll be a whole new decade. Even if it seems like we just started the current one.

Happy New Year. See you on the other side (or, as most people call it, Wednesday).

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 12/28

Say “hello” to my little friend!

That was just one of the many cow-related gifts I received this Christmas; a little statue picked up by my parents because A). they have a weird son and 2). they thought it looked like the cow I shot in Germany this year, the cow that now sits on my computer desktop at work--

You know, I think they may be right. They also gave me a cow calendar, filled with pictures much like I take of the creatures. And my in-laws sent up a cow pen and cow postcards, plus this little toy they picked up in Switzerland that moos when you turn it upside down.

I guess I'm easy to buy for. But if that means I get cow-related stuff, then that's fine with me. So thanks, mom & dad, and thanks, other mom & dad. I really do appreciate it all!!

****

Another gift I received for Christmas was the annual edition of the “365 Stupidest Things Ever Said” calendar, and as I’ve done for the past 15 or so years, I read each and every page of it in one sitting. This accomplishes a couple of things--there’s a point where the cumulative effect of all that stupidity catches up with me, and whatever control I have dissolves in a big puddle. I start laughing uncontrollably, with tears running down my eyes, and for the next couple of minutes I’m unable to do nothing else. Loraine then just stares at me for a second, and shakes her head the way she’d shake her head at a puppy trying to chase its tail and accidentally running itself head-first into a wall.

Except I do it on purpose.

The page that set me off this year? Read by itself, it’s not necessarily that funny, but when you consider I’d just read 200 or so other pages of stupid stuff; well, like I said, the cumulative effect was just something else. It was a description of a movie in a newspaper--

“'Dawn of the Dead': Survivors of a world-wide plague that's producing the flesh-hungry undead take refuge in a mega-shopping mall.

Based on a true story”

Like I said, in and of itself it’s not gut-busting, but when placed near the end of a long line of stupid quotes, sayings, and newspaper headlines, it was the trigger that set off my annual bout of self-induced hysteria.

I know.  I need help. What’s your point?? But at least I have cows.

8-)

Have a great weekend,

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 12/27

Is there such a thing as “holiday hangover”? Because if there is, I think I may be suffering from it.

For the past two days, I’ve had a DICKENS (no holiday pun intended (well, not much)) of a time trying to get my you-know-what in gear. It’s hard to get up in the morning, it’s hard to get going at work, and it’s hard to engage my brain at any time during the day. At first I thought it may just be the fact that I ate WAAAAAAAAAY too much on Christmas Eve & Christmas Day; however, after just eating enough to survive in the few days since, I can say that scarfing down cookies, fudge, cookies, a carrot or two, pie, and, uhm, more cookies isn’t the cause of my “hangover”. And since I don’t drink, I can safely say my “hangover” isn’t of the traditional variety, either.

So what is it? I think I’ve narrowed it down to one of two things. As those of you who read this on a daily basis know, I’ve had the usual insane schedule the past few months. Maybe this “hangover” is just my body’s way of telling me “enough is enough”. Or, perhaps that “insanity” may just have added to effects caused by a hypothetical “holiday hangover”. You know--you spend an intense few days (or weeks) trying to get everything ready for Christmas, everything for which you’ve worked happens over a day or two, and then you’re left with this, oh, “void” in your life. You’ve spend so much energy on a certain goal for so long that you don’t know how to react once it’s over.

Maybe THAT’S a holiday hangover. If so, it might be similar to a “wedding” hangover, an “exam week” hangover, or a “let’s move into a new apartment/house” hangover. Your mind is so fixated on one event that it can’t let go once that event is over.

Hmm.  You may like to know that something interesting just occurred. While I was writing about suffering from the effects of a “holiday hangover”, it seems to have started to go away. Maybe just talking through the problem has helped. Maybe I just needed to bounce the concept off of someone. If that’s the case, then, well, thanks for being my “therapist”.

I’ll stick your check in the mail tomorrow!

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/26

The cookies aren't gone yet. But I'm getting there.

After baking 31 dozen (and yes, I have a problem) cookies over the weekend and then giving what I could away, I'm still left with several dozen of assorted types lying around our apartment. I'm still willing to give them to a good home if anyone wants them.

8-)

I don’t bake the cookies for me to eat; in fact, Loraine often expresses amazement and/or disappointment over the fact that I make the cookies but don’t eat them. But while I do munch on one or two (mostly to make sure they turn out okay), I make them mostly to give away. After all, the holidays are all about giving, right? Especially if you’re giving away 11 extra pounds of caloric-driven weight through all the cookies you bake?

Right??

One of the reasons I don’t eat all the cookies, and one of the reasons that I’m glad they’re mostly gone, is that I’m not sure if I wanna gain the extra two pounds the average American gains during the average holiday season. Now, I’m sure some of you are asking how I can be worried about gaining two pounds when I don’t eating my own baking, and I can safely answer this way—while I don’t eat my own baking, I sure do eat a lot of other people’s baking.

Once again, those of you who read this on a daily basis know what I’m talking about—ever since Thanksgiving, it seems like I’ve been writing about nothing other than trying to go to bazaars and holiday festivals and open houses and bake sales and cookie swaps. And while I don’t eat a lot at any one of those events, the sheer number of them that Loraine & I attend makes it inevitable that, like almost every American, I’ll gain those two pounds during the holidays.

Now, one of the reasons Americans have gotten so large over the past two decades is that, studies show, they never lose the two pounds they gain each holiday season. And while a pound or two might not make much difference in a year, you add them up over a decade, and you’re eventually 15 or 20 pounds heavier than you once were.

That’s why I don’t eat the cookies I bake. I make up for it in eating the stuff that OTHER people make and give to me. And that’s why I hit the ski trails and the running routes and the weights with added vigor during and after the holidays. I want to get rid of those two pounds I may have picked up.

Of course, now I need to apologize for giving all those cookies away and causing other people to gain their two pounds. I’ll admit it’s an imperfect system; all I have to do now is figure out how to make calorie-free Christmas cookies, and then EVERYONE can be happy!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 12/24

For the story of a Christmas Eve tradition, click here.

Friday, 12/21

My fingers smell like rosemary. Of course, they're also red at the moment, which means that there's something strangely weird going on. Or weirdly strange. You pick.

All the dough for my Christmas cookies has now been made, leading up to the mass orgy of baking I'm planning for tonight. That, of course, is why my fingers are confused. Last night I made the dough for two different cookies. The first accounts for the way they smell; that would be the lemon-rosemary cookies of which I've become so fond. This year, I decided to use fresh rosemary, which means that I had to tear off and cut up the leaves from the stems I bought. I'm glad I did it; the aroma from fresh rosemary made the dough smell amazing, a taste I hope will transfer to the cookies. But since I had to hold the rosemary by hand to tear and cut the oils from the herb transferred onto my fingers, where more than 12 hours later they still reside.

Of course, I LOVE rosemary, which means I think my hands smell heavenly. But that's just me.

Here's where the strangely weird (or weirdly strange) part comes in. My fingers smell like a green herb, yet look like they were attacked by a red one. The other cookie dough I made was for the cherry-chocolate explosions, which means that I had to cut up a jar of maraschino cherries. I don't know how much food coloring was placed in them, but by the time I finished cutting up the jar the fingers which I used were a very bright, almost neon red. They smelled like rosemary, mind you, but looked like they had gotten involved in an intimate relationship with a Twizzler.

They were that red.

No matter how many times I washed my hands (and I washed them a lot while making the dough, because I practice safe baking) the red coloring would not come out of my fingers. After taking a shower this morning the red coloring still didn't come out of my fingers, although it's faded a bit. I'm hoping it comes out soon; if not, I know that it'll eventually disappear as the skin cells on my fingers fall off.

Unless, of course, the dye in the cherries was so strong I gave myself a permanent tattoo cutting them up. THAT would be the gift that keeps on giving!

So hopefully, the red disappears soon. The scent of rosemary can stay if it wants, although that's disappearing at a much greater rate than the color. But who knows—maybe when I bake the cookies tonight I can get a little of the smell to rub off on my hands. To play it safe, though, I may use gloves when making the cherry cookies.

Just in case.

****

This will be the last original blog for a few days. I'll post the annual Christmas Eve one Monday, and then be back with something new on Wednesday. Have yourself a great holiday weekend, a Merry Christmas, and, hopefully, dye-free fingers!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 12/20

Seeing as how we’re a day away from figuring out “Upper Michigan’s Favorite Classic Christmas Song...Ever!”, I’ve started to think about what MY favorite Christmas songs of all-time might be. I’ve narrowed it down to five. Actually, I DO know what my all-time fave is, but I also have a soft spot in my heart for the other four, as well.

So, first the four runners-up, in alphabetical order (and with the caveat that I don't consider Relient K's punk version of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” a classic, at least not yet. Otherwise it would be on the list)--

“All I Want For Christmas Is You”, Mariah Carey. Now, I’m not a big Mariah Carey fan, but there’s just something. . .irresistible about this song. It puts a smile on your face, it makes you sing along with it, and it gets stuck in your head. Can you ask for anything more in a tune, especially a holiday tune?

“Most Wonderful Time Of The Year”, Johnny Mathis. Why? Well, because it’s a great example of old-school Holiday music, with big orchestras, big vocals, and an urge to make you start dancing. Oh, and it mentions ghosts, too, therefore also technically qualifying it as a Halloween song, as well.

“Same Old Lang Syne”, Dan Fogelberg. When the (sadly) late Mr. Fogelberg wrote the song, I don’t think he intended it as a holiday song (it was just a single off of an album), but in the 37 years since (37 years?!?!?!?!?), it’s become a holiday classic. It’s a rare example of a downbeat Christmas song (like “Merry Christmas Baby”) that actually works as a Christmas song; add to that an incredibly wistful string arrangement, and you’re set.

“White Christmas”, by (ahem) Vince Gill. For the first two and a half minutes of this song, it’s just incredibly sublime guitar playing. Then for the next two and a half minutes, the vocals kick in. We play this particular version on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day; if you happen to hear it, you’ll know why it’s on this list.

And, finally, Jim’s favorite Christmas song of all time? There’s just no question about it…

“The Christmas Song”, by Nat King Cole. It’s ethereal. . .it just is. And it’s not OFFICIALLY the holidays until you listen to it.

That’s my top 5 list. Join us tomorrow and vote on yours!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/19

‘Twas the week before Christmas, and all though the house, Jim stood there in terror, hoping he wasn’t a louse.

Don’t worry; I’m not REALLY a louse. It’s just that that’s the only word I could think that that rhymed with “house” and wasn’t “mouse”. I mean. . .it wouldn’t make sense if I said I was a “bouse” or a “pouse’ or a “wouse”, unless I was living in a Dr. Seuss story, right? Although that would be kind of interesting. . .

You could call it “Jim On A Whim”.

Anyways. . .what was I babbling about before my train of thought got derailed even before leaving the station? That’s right; with just a few days left before Christmas Eve, I’ve increasingly come yo the realization that I’ve done woefully few things to get ready for the holidays.

Cookies made? Nope, although they will be this weekend.

Gifts wrapped? Well, at least I've purchased most of them. That counts for something, doesn't it?

Two foot tall LED Christmas tree put up? Uhm. . .I got it out of the basement last night. That also counts for something, doesn't it?

“A Charlie Brown Christmas” viewed? I know where the DVD is. Please tell me THAT counts for something.

Now, don’t think this is because I’m not happy that the holiday’s coming or that I don’t have any Christmas spirit. Neither of those is true. Instead, I’ve found myself fallen victim to the same malady that many of you also find yourself catching, the fact that you don’t have any time, and by the time you realize you don’t have any time, you’ve run out of time to do anything about it.

I actually realized I needed to get my butt in gear three or so weeks ago, and promised myself that, as soon as I had a few spare moments, that I would think about gifts and trees and Charlie Brown. Unfortunately, one of two things happened--either I, in my old age, forgot about my promise to myself, or I just didn’t have any spare time.

I’m thinking it’s the latter. After all, it seems to be an annual holiday tradition for many of us, doesn’t it? Despite the best of intentions, the time we set aside for our usual commitments collides with the time we try to set aside for our holiday commitments, and that creates a black hole into which those best intentions then spiral. We keep trying. . .we keep hoping we can learn from past mistakes, but in the end, the pull of that black hole of time proves to be too strong. Add into that the TV and History Center stuff I discussed yesterday, and well...

That's my excuse, feeble as it may be.

But now that I’ve stood in my apartment and had that wave of terror wash over me, I’m hoping I can get everything done. Sure, I have a few more gifts to pick up, but I know what I need to get. Sure, I then have to wrap everything, but I have to work Thursday night, and can wrap them while I'm running a basketball game. One the great joys of an LED Christmas tree? Once you go into the basement and actually bring it up, you just need to plug it in, and it’s ready to go.

And “Charlie Brown”? Well, that's coming soon. It has to. Watching the 24 minutes of the Christmas show is always one of the highlights of my holiday season.

So with a mere 100-some hours left before Christmas Eve, I’m cautiously optimistic that I’ll be able to get everything done. After all, who wants to be a louse during the holidays, right? Or a “bouse” or a “pouse’ or a “wouse”?

(jim@wmqt.com), off to wrap up my TV commitments for the next few weeks.

Tuesday, 12/18

I'm thinking this is gonna be a good show.

With everything else going on this week—Radio Jim trying to get ready for the holiday weekend when no one's here, and TV Jim getting the final shows of the first round of “High School Bowl” shot before winter break—History Jim is also plugging away with the show I'm doing in just over a month with my friend Jack, called “What's Up Dock”. And after getting together with Jack yesterday and going over some new material, I think it's gonna be cool.

This show is based on a tour I've given twice, which means that a lot of the material has already been put out there. But we're digging deep for this one—I've found a bunch of new pictures in the History Center archives, while Jack has done the same from his vast collection of stuff. Not only that, but he's also come up with (at least) four movie clips shot around the docks in the 1920s and 1930s, and once people see those their jaws will drop to the Kaufman Auditorium floor.

They're THAT cool.

Aside from the history of Lower Harbor we have all kinds of other stuff, including some amazing pictures of the construction of the Presque Isle dock, the building of the trestle through downtown Marquette, and the “art” of the Harbor. Add into that stories about what sailors would do when they hit town (hello, hookers!) and it should be a fun evening.

It really should.

In fact, would you like a sneak peak? Not of the hookers, but the harbor?

That's all I'm gonna say about that. If wanna know about the significance of the picture, you'll just have to join us January 24^th at Kaufman. Or, if you're not in Marquette, I'll write about it the day after.

Promise.

So even though it's making for a(nother) insanely busy week right before the holidaze, I think it'll be worth it, if only to see people picking their jaws off the floor once they see some of the pictures and movies we've come up with. And if THAT doesn't tempt you to rush out and get your tickets, I don't know what will!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 12/17

Maybe I should start paying more attention to these things.

I went running Saturday morning (in shorts again, I might add), as I do many mornings a week. And as I do many mornings a week, I was listening to music on my iPod while running. It was actually nice listening to my iPod while running yesterday morning, as my iPod contains no Christmas music, and while it IS the season for tunes like that, it's just nice to get away from their omnipresent nature for a little while.

Anyway, one of the songs that popped up when I was running was Van Halen's “Beautiful Girls”. I haven't heard the song for awhile, and the thing I first noticed was that, for a Van Halen song, the guitar is really buried in the mix. I mean, you can barely hear it at some times, which is weird when you consider that the part is being played by one of the greatest guitar players ever. There are times when the high hat (a cymbal) is louder than the guitar, and it just seems strange to me that the song was mixed that way.

I was still trying to figure out why the song was mixed that way when the song neared its end, and David Lee Roth sang a line. Now, normally I don't listen to Van Halen songs for the lyrics—that would be like eating ice cream for calcium content—but this particular line stuck out at me. The line?

“Get your cell phone down”.

Now, that line in and of itself isn't strange. There have probably been many songs with lines like “Get your cell phone down”. It only becomes weird when you realize the song was recorded in 1979, a full decade before cell phones even became available to the general public.

Does that mean the members of Van Halen were psychic when they wrote the song? That's what I was wondering when I went back and listened to Roth sing the phrase over and over. I mean, was it possible? Did the group's members have a wormhole into the future, and brought back the concept of cell phones a full decade before they came into use? Did they plant that cryptic line in “Beautiful Girls” just so someone in the 21^st century would notice it and and then start to obsess about it, all while running along the shores of Lake Superior on a gloomy morning?

Uhm, no. Upon listening to the line for the 9^th or 10^th time I finally realized that David Lee Roth was NOT singing the line “Get your cell phone down”. Nope; after listening to the line for the 9^th or 10^th time I realized that was David Lee Roth was singing was THIS line--

“Get your self on down”.

Go ahead, say it real fast to yourself. See what I mean? While it may sound like “get your cell phone down”, that's not what you're saying, and it's not what David Lee Roth was singing. I, like people who have mis-heard lyrics for decades, was hearing something that wasn't there. The members of Van Halen weren't psychic. They didn't have a wormhole to the future. They weren't singing about cell phones.

Oops. My bad.

Maybe I should just give into the holidays and listen to Christmas music while running the rest of this week. After all, you can't misunderstand lyrics in Christmas tunes, right? I mean, they're simple, like in “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” when they sing about “Olive, the other reindeer”. You can't mis-hear a line like that, right?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

(ps—thanks for all the nice notes regarding Friday's blog, another thing I discovered while running. I appreciate them!)

Friday, 12/14

We can all rest easy. The streak will continue for at least another month.

After writing the blog about dark chocolate yesterday morning I went running. Before I did so, I checked the temperature; it was 32.5, which meant it was above freezing, which meant that I could go running in shorts, which meant the streak I wrote about Tuesday can continue.

Yes, I'm a dork. What's your point?

While I was running in shorts yesterday morning I started thinking, which as we know can be a very dangerous thing. I thought about some of the dorky stuff I do (and have done) in my life, and for some bizarre reason that led me to a saying that I've been trying to live up to recently--

Be the person you needed when you were young.

I think that when I was young I would've appreciated someone like the adult me. I was one of “those” kids. I was tall & skinny. I was shy. I read a lot, loved space, and adored “Star Trek”. I couldn't do anything athletic for the life of me, and the fact that I had interests other than most kids meant that I was “different”. I know what it's liked to be picked on, I know what it's like to be talked about, and I know the humiliation of being one of the last people picked for any kind of sports or team activity.

I mean, I know everyone's childhood has its ups & downs. Those were mine.

For whatever reason, I didn't let what happened to me as a kid define who I became as an adult. Slowly but surely, I grew into myself. I had loving parents who encouraged my sometimes strange interests. Meeting new people and finding myself in new situations in college and in the real world helped me develop confidence and an outgoing, optimistic personality. And I met an amazing, athletically-inclined woman who showed me that it IS possible not to be picked last for a team.  And you can have fun while doing it.

Thanks to all that, I became the person I am today. Sure, I'm still a dork. But I'm a dork who's changed over the years. I'd like to think that change has been for the better (I'd like to think I'm up to, oh, being a six out of ten; I'm still a work in progress), but I'll leave that up to you.

That's why when I see young people who aren't sure of themselves or who are trying to head down a path on which not everyone would go, I try to be encouraging. I try to be supportive. I try to let them know that who they are now is not necessarily who they'll grow up to be, and that whatever they're going through at the moment may be something that they'll laugh about in the future. I try to let them know that the people who are disapproving of or tormenting them now have issues of their own to deal with. I try to do this with my nieces and nephews, both here and downstate. I try to do that with some of the kids I get to know on “High School Bowl”. And I try to do that with one or two special young people I've been lucky enough to come across in my life.

I try to be the person they need when they're young.

I don't know why all this came into my head while I was running in shorts on a December morning, trying to keep a dorky streak going that absolutely no one in the world cares about aside from me. Maybe it was just the mental image of a young, nerdy, and non-athletic me laughing at what the older me ended up becoming.

I'm sure the younger me would be glad to know that it all turned out okay. And that being a dork is still something to be proud of, even if it somehow involves keeping track of every month in which you can run in shorts.

(jim@wmqt.com), dork.

Thursday, 12/13

I think dark chocolate stars have gone the way of dinosaurs, wagon trains, and Kim Kardashian’s first 2 or 3 marriages—

They’re extinct.

I realized that as I started to make some of the cookie dough I'll be baking in the next week or so. For many years I would try to get a bag of dark chocolate stars for those Cherry-Chocolate Explosion cookies I make. Every year when I made them I would get a bag of milk chocolate stars and a bag of dark chocolate stars, and alternate putting them on the cookies. One cookie would get milk chocolate, the next would get dark chocolate, and so on. But you know what?

I can't do that any more. But thank goodness for Dove Dark Chocolate. It's a lifesaver.

The store where I used to pick up my dark chocolate stars was (and don’t laugh) Menards. That’s right; I’ve never once gone to Menards to buy a hammer or screws or a roto-tiller; I have, however, gone to Menards to buy dark chocolate stars, if only because they usually had a pretty good selection of them. But not any more. Because of that I ended up checking out over a dozen other local stores, coming up empty. Most of them had a selection of milk chocolate stars, but nothing in the way of dark chocolate stars, which meant that a few years ago I had to make a choice—I could either make the Cherry-Chocolate Explosions with only milk chocolate stars, or I could find a substitute for the dark chocolate stars.

Oh, the horror.

Since I couldn’t make the cookies without SOME form of dark chocolate, I turned to the aforementioned fine people at Dove, and have started picking up a bag of their yummy dark chocolate Promises, a chocolate on which I munch quite a bit. So half the Cherry-Chocolate Explosions now have milk chocolate stars on them, while the other half have chunks of Dove dark chocolate on them. And if anyone notices and/or complains that they miss the dark chocolate starts from years past, I’ll refer them to the Menards customer service department.

It's the least I can do.

Although I once again didn’t find dark chocolate stars anywhere while doing my annual cursory search a few weeks ago, I almost picked up something else at one of the stores. Like many stores, this one has strange things planted near the checkout, in the hopes of piquing your curiosity enough that you’d pick one up and throw it in your basket. And I have to admit, I came close to buying something that I saw there; you see, next to glow-in-the-dark pig stickers and a Homer Simpson chia-head sat something I never thought I’d see, something that really has no reason to exist, except to separate a consumer from their money—

What did I see? A Justin Beiber musical electric toothbrush.

That’s right; you can buy an electric toothbrush with Justin Beiber’s picture on it. Not only that, but when you use the toothbrush with Justin Beiber’s picture (pre-tattoos) on it, you can listen to Justin Beiber singing while you’re brushing your teeth. You know, I don’t think I’ve come across something so useful and vital to humanity since, oh, 1979, when I believe I saw a Rex Smith three-in-1 hair brush/tire gauge/mini filing cabinet somewhere in a catalog. Of course, now that I think about it, the Rex Smith three-in-1 hair brush/tire gauge/mini filing cabinet might have been something I imagined after eating a bad taco. Unfortunately, the Justin Beiber musical electric toothbrush was real. After all, I haven’t had a bad taco in quite some time now.

See what the lack of dark chocolate stars has led to?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/12

I'm amazed at the difference. You'd think I wouldn't be after all these years, but I am.

I had to go through a bunch of pictures yesterday to find one that Jack & I can use in our “What's Up, Dock” program for the Marquette Regional History Center next month. And as I was looking for the picture, which was taken during the summer, I was struck by the amazing amount of color in some of the shots I took. It's almost like Marquette in summer is on a totally different planet than Marquette during the winter. Nothing is gray, nothing is dull, nothing is gloomy.

The difference is mind blowing.

Don't believe me? Here are a few pictures I took one afternoon back in June--

And then one taken out the front door at work yesterday--

See? It's like it's an entirely different planet. Six months ago Marquette was exploding with colors that go across the spectrum. December? Well, there's gray. And brown. And more gray. The only “colors” I can see are in the Range Bank sign.

Sigh.

I shouldn't be so shocked that it takes me by surprise, but every year it does. The gradual loss of color comes about so slowly that we don't even notice it's happening, much like the proverbial frog being boiled alive by the steadily increasing temperature in a pan of heating water. We just become used to the dullness without even noticing it. For me, at least, it's only when you look at the polychromatic majesty of Marquette during the summer that you realize just how big the change is.

And that change is huge.

But at least we only have, uhm, another five months of dullness until the colors start to pop out again. Hopefully, by then, we won't forget what the greens and purples and reds and yellows in nature look like. Because if my mind—or yours—was blown just by looking at pictures of color, imagine what we'll be like when we see them live for the first time in months.

(jim@wmqt.com), eagerly awaiting summer.

Tuesday, 12/11

I wonder if my streak is soon to come to an end?

Long time readers of this know that I've been keeping track of the weirdest “streak” the past few years. For those of you who are new or whose eyes glaze over when I talk about running, here's the deal—every time it's above 32 degrees, I wear shorts when it's running. Doesn't matter if it's raining or snowing or just clear, if it's above freezing I wear shorts.

Someone has to, right?

Anyway, because of the way the weather has been changing around here, I've got quite the streak going. Every month since March of 2015—almost four years now—I've been able to wear shorts while running at least once. That means that every month for almost four years now the temperatures have been above zero for at least one day. And that's even during the coldest months of the year, January and February. I've worn shorts while running at least once a month for 44 straight months now.

But I'm starting to get worried the streak may be coming to an end.

I've been writing a lot about the cold weather in which we've been mired the past few months, so I won't get into it. But the last time temperatures were above freezing, at least when I was running, was November 30^th. And while the long range forecast does call for the possibility of temps above 32, I don't know if they'll fall on days on which I'm scheduled to run.

Hmm.

So what do I do? If there is a day when the temperatures are above freezing, do I go running in shorts just so I can keep the streak going, even though I was supposed to do something else? Or do I do like I've done the past (almost) four years. If it happens to be above freezing on a scheduled day for running, I wear shorts. Otherwise, I don't.

I'm leaning toward the latter; after all, I haven't altered my running schedule at all the past 44 months just to keep the streak going. And after all this time, it would almost be like cheating just to extend it. On the other hand, it might mean the streak will end this month, and while I'm the only person on the planet who cares about it it IS something weird that I've been keeping track of, and it would be a bummer to see it disappear.

Maybe I'll get lucky. Maybe we'll get into an extended period of warm weather, and maybe I won't even have to worry about. Of course, maybe pigs will fly, or hell will freeze over, or the Lions will actually get to a Super Bowl. ANYTHING can happen.

Even though it probably won't.

So that's my story. By the end of the month we'll know if the streak continues, or comes to a natural, fitting end. And don't worry—you guys will be the first to know. Because, I'm sure, you're just dying to know.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 12/8

I wonder how many are given out on any particular night?

Now that winter’s here some of my usual running routes are curtailed, and I find myself running more and more on city streets, instead of the usual Fit Strip or bike path or Park Cemetery or other off-road areas. While I’m usually not keen on street running (especially with the way people drive these days) I do get to notice one thing that you never see while running during the summer.

And that’s tickets on cars that have violated Marquette’s overnight parking ban.

Depending upon where (and for how long) I run I’ll see anywhere from 2 to 5 or 6 cars with tickets on them, but I really noticed it Saturday morning when I went out and saw 4 tickets on just one block. That made me pay close attention; by the time I got home, I counted 14—fourteen—cars with tickets on them. And while I didn’t check each individual ticket, I can say with a fair amount of confidence that those cars were ticketed for violating the overnight ban.

Especially the car that had been plowed in for what looked like several days, as evidenced by the multiple tickets stuck under the windshield wiper. Someone’s gonna have fun paying those tickets, and also paying for getting their car plowed out!

I don’t wanna sound like I’m stereotyping a whole group of people, but I notice that a large majority of people who seem to have ticketed cars get those tickets in neighborhoods with a lot of college housing. I mean, I live I one of those neighborhoods, and that’s where I saw those four cars in one block with tickets stuck under their wipers. On one hand, I suppose I hafta give credit to whomever the cars belonged; I’m guessing they got a little too carried away with their celebrating, realized they weren’t in any condition to drive, and just left their cars where they parked them. That’s great. But after spending what I’m guessing is an amazing amount of money on booze, do you really want to add in another $50 (or whatever the price is) for a ticket, as well?

I’d be curious to know how many of those tickets the Marquette City Police give out on a nightly basis during the winter. I’d also be curious to know how many of those tickets are actually paid, and how much money the city makes off of them on an annual basis. I’m guessing it’s not a small amount, but who knows. Maybe the tickets can pay for a new patrol car or breathalyzer or bulletproof vest. At least something good would come out of it.

For now, though, I’ll just look at the tickets I see as one of the (few) perks of running in Marquette in winter. Sure, you’re slipping on ice, and dodging cars that are driving too fast, but at least I know that when I get done I won’t see that little yellow envelope stuck under my windshield. Because that, I would guess, would not make a run (or going out to your car) very much fun at all.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 12/7

Look. I have another song to obsess over!!

Those of you who read this on a regular basis know that I often get a song stuck in my head, and then it won't let go. Heck, it even happened just last month when C&C Music Factory's “Here We Go” took up semi-permanent residence in my brain. Well, it's happened again, and this time I have my birthday to thank for it.

Technically, I have Loraine and the gift she gave me for it. For my birthday, Loraine usually gives me CDs she thinks I might like, and this year's was Lenny Kravitz's “Raise Vibration”. She heard clips of it earlier this year, and when she noticed that it's STRONGLY influenced by 70s R&B she knew it's for me.

She was right.

It's a really good album, filled with grooves that just stick in your head. But my favorite song on the disc (or at least my favorite so far) is a song called “It's Enough”, which is what a song would be like if Marvin Gaye's “Inner City Blues” and the Temptations “Papa Was a Rolling Stone” had a love child. It's eight minutes of musical perfection—a bass line that propels a groove that just won't stop, socially conscious lyrics, and, six minutes into the tune, a trumpet solo that you have to hear to believe.

It's really, really good. And it's a perfect example of why songs set up camp in my brain and won't let go.

Since I have to go play TV host, I'll just leave it at that. Or at this--

Listen to it at your own peril. And have a great weekend while you're at it, as well!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 12/5

Yes, I have a sick & warped mind. Is that a bad thing?

This week on “Upper Michigan's Favorite Friday” we're trying to figure out Upper Michigan's favorite “Made For Media” group ever. That means any group put together for a TV show or a movie—everyone from The Archies to The Wonders—are eligible, including the group from one of my favorite movies ever, “This is Spinal Tap”. If you've not yet viewed the movie, you really need to do so; it's the story of a clueless early 80s heavy metal group that's falling apart, not even realizing they're doing so. One of the many gags throughout the film is how the group keeps losing drummers; in fact, most of them seem to explode for no apparent reason.

Well, the reason I bring the movie up—and the reason why my mind may be sick & warped—is that I think I've found the real-life inspiration behind the group.

Two nights ago Loraine and I were eating dinner, and as I've written before our conversations can often lead to very weird discoveries. She came across a book written about a 70's music group. The group had three or four hits, and was quickly forgotten. Because I was curious to see if they're actually still around and performing, I looked them up, and was treated to a fine Wikipedia entry that soon devolved into a session of me (and Loraine) laughing harder and harder as we discovered the tragedies that befell members of the group.

(And as an aside, remember that my earliest comedy influences were Looney Tunes cartoons and the TV show “MASH”. It's no wonder I have such a dark sense of humor).

Anyway, the group went through a few drummers like Spinal Tap, minus the explosions. One fell off a drum riser, broke both his legs, and had to be replaced. His replacement played a few years, then had a heart attack on stage and died during a show. The lead singer developed a few mental health issues and tried (unsuccessfully) to commit suicide by cop. And the guitarist, after finding out he developed multiple sclerosis, retired from the band to take care of his wife, who had been given a cancer diagnosis and shortly after took her own life.

I know. I should not have laughed at the tragedy and the personal suffering that those human beings went through. Absolutely no one should ever have to deal with those types of issues, and if they do they should get our full support. But as I kept reading the article, and as the “Spinal Tap”-esque tragedies kept piling up, I couldn't help myself. It just seemed too...bizarre to have actually happened.

But it did. And I'm a horrid human being for having the reaction to it that I did. But I've seen “Spinal Tap” 15 or 20 times. As I read the article on the group, it's like I almost knew what was coming, and when it started paralleling what happened in the movie I just lost it. A normal human being would have just shook their head in sympathy, but not me. Nope; I just thought of what happened in “Spinal Tap” and started laughing at tragedy, just like Bugs Bunny & Hawkeye Pierce would have.

One of these days I really need to start growing up, don't I?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 12/4

I don’t mind birthdays. It’s the part about getting older that I don’t like.

Some of you may know that it’s my birthday today, and I guess I’m okay with that. I don’t expect people to make a big deal out of it; it’s nothing more than the anniversary of me finally relieving my mother of the burden of carrying me around for ten months. If anything, she’s the one who deserves the honors today, since I wasn’t born until a month after my due date, and this was the day she was finally relieved of that misery.

So thanks for the extra 30 days, Mom!!

But whenever you have a birthday you’re forced to confront the fact that you’re getting older, and if there’s one thing you might have learned by reading this ramblings over the past decade and a half, it’s that members of the Koski family don’t like to confront the fact that there’s nothing you can do about getting older. It just happens, whether you want it to or not.

Who do we see about changing that, by the way?

As I’ve gotten older I’ve noticed, despite my best efforts, more and more signs popping up reminding me of that fact that I am indeed getting on in years. Of course, the latest had to pop up on Sunday, right as I was about to celebrate another birthday. I finished working out and was about to read the newspaper (yes, another one of those signs that I’m “old”) and I noticed that I couldn’t quite make out the print on the page, which I found odd, because I usually have no trouble making out the print. It was then I realized that I wasn’t wearing my glasses, which, as for most “old” people, are bifocals. I slipped them on, and then had no trouble reading the print.

Aside from the heavy sigh the incident provoked, a bit of curiosity bubbled to the surface, as well. Even without glasses, I’ve always been able to read things with no problem. In fact, when I read newspapers after running or when I read in bed every night it’s sans eyewear. Yet for some reason this Sunday, I could not read the print in the newspaper until I put my glasses on.  I don’t know if it’s because the print was smaller than usual or because the room was rather dark or if (gasp) my eyes are just getting a little worse as time (gasp) marches on, but for the first time, I couldn’t focus on the type well enough to read what was on the page. It didn’t matter how close I got to the page, or how far away I held it, something just didn’t work out until I used my glasses.

Oh, woe is me.

Since then, I’ve read many things—including newspapers—without wearing my glasses, and I’ve been able to see them just fine. But that fact that I had this particular problem for the first time just a few days before turning another year “older” affected me in the way that all incidents related to aging affect me—with me not handling it like an ”adult” would.

So at least I’ve got that going for me!

Don’t worry; I’m sure that as these incidents keep popping up, I’ll (hopefully) get a better grip on them. After all, as I’m always told, these incidents DO pop up more and more as you age more and more, and, as I’ve found, there’s nothing you can (yet) do to stop that. So like I said, while I don’t mind birthdays, this whole getting “older” thing is just not my cup of tea.

Sigh. . .and make it a heavy one, if you’d like!

(jim@wmqt.com)