Oh, God. This again?

 
Oh, Turkey and Stuffing Sandwich . . . I Miss You.
Thanksgiving without the leftovers vs. Thanksgiving without the hassle of, y’know, actually having to cook.

So, as alluded to earlier, we were in Atlanta for the long weekend. We made the executive decision to go out to eat rather than having three people who marginally know how to cook (and one toddler) scrambling to put together a meal that would be palatable (at best). And at worst . . . well, I’ve seen enough emergency rooms for the past year. Not in Atlanta, of course, but I can wait.

Besides the eating, we (Mia and I) drove up to Melman’s house to visit with him and his horses. Later, his wife stopped by and gave Mia a quick ride on one of the horses. He even took some pictures.

I went four days without taking any pictures. But I also went four days without giving a shit about stuff happening here in Tallahassee. Seems like a fair tradeoff to me.
shaken and poured by Scott-san at 12:38 PM

 
You See?
You knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to pull up my page and look at the same bullshit send-off day after day. And then all this crap went on and I was, like, “Ooooo, that’d be something cool to, uh . . . nevermind. Dammit.”

I seem to reach this point every year or so, where I keep “writing” and posting and then feeling like I’m not trying. Y’know, that this isn’t real writing, and I can’t even do this well. But it is, and I can. If I apply myself. Maybe. Anyway, I was originally thinking about taking a break for a bit (which, you see, is damn-near-impossible) and then I thought some reinvention might be in order. Again. So we’re working on that. In the meantime, I just wanted everyone to know that we’re okay here at Kamikaze Lunchbreak. And how I feel about my alma mater’s season going in the crapper and then having the crapper positioned at the 50-yard line of the Superdome just before Hurricane Katrina (I really hope they lose out so St. Bobby Junior will be demoted or shipped off to a second-tier football program). Or how I feel about my quick love affair/obsession with Sudoku (strangely lost). Or how Michelle and I actually went out to a show that neither of our bands were playing and ended up leaving early, which we felt bad about but now I’m pretty relieved because it sounds like I was spared a whole chunk of disappointment. Or how I discovered that one of my coworkers ate my lunch that I’d left in the freezer on Friday. Or how my band was thisclose to changing our name to “sad boat.” Or how the last two episodes of Rome have me excited about Season Two, which is only 18 short months away. (No, really, we have to wait 18 months for some resolution. The whole decapitation-by-shield was great, as was Vorenus making that guy’s mace his second head, but fuck. Thanks a pad-load, HBO!) Or how mom’s usual penchant for repeating herself and telling the same stories over and over has increased exponentially with her recent paranoia, but then she drops a deep-dark-secret bomb on me that I’ve never heard in my life . . . like, when did this become CONFESSION TIME?

Look, we can’t all be great storytellers. We can’t all make the ordinary extraordinary. We can’t all be breeders and post pictures of our gorgeous children. And making money at it, to boot. All we can do is be ourselves. Except more well-written. For the entertainment of others.

We’re going to Atlanta for Thanksgiving weekend. If you live “in Atlanta,” we might drop you a line and/or drive halfway to Tennessee to see you.
shaken and poured by Scott-san at 2:49 PM

 
TWEEEEEEET! Timeout Called by Mr. Lunchbreak
Until I can write something this good, or until things get a little more sorted out in my life*, I'm stopping. This.

Stopping isn't quitting. Unless you don't start again. Which you know I will, because I'm as much of an attention-whore as the rest of you. I'm just not as good at it.

Smooches,
Scott


* Things may be looking up . . . or at least not as bad as they seem. And don't think for a second that I don't appreciate all of your kind words. Even yours, C-dub. You fucker.
shaken and poured by Scott-san at 2:18 PM

 
Shake ‘n Bake
Patients in the TMH Behavioral Health Unit are all too familiar with Florida’s Baker Act, which health professionals and law enforcement can use to send someone for an involuntary psych evaluation for up to 72 hours. Mom was Baker Acted a couple months ago when she was in the E.R. for babbling nonsense and accusing me of having an affair (among other things). Patients in the Behavioral Health Unit would say that she got “Shake ‘n Baked.”

Mom got “Shake ‘n Baked” again yesterday. I don’t want to get into the sordid details*, but let’s just say that she was very confused. And that she likely won’t be living at her house anymore.


* When the “confused” symptoms began to reemerge, she asked me, “How many people have you told I’m crazy?” Um, well, I never said “crazy,” but I have written about it on the blog. So . . . maybe seven or eight people? Ten people max.
shaken and poured by Scott-san at 4:54 PM

 
Stats That Shape a Weekend

Money Lost Playing Poker: $25
Number of Beers Consumed Over the Past Week: four
Cupcakes Taken to Preschool for Carnival: 14
Cupcakes (Scott-Made) Consumed During Carnival: at most, two

I was thinking Sunday how I needed to do a stats-related post. And then Monday about the same thing. And then Tuesday about doing a Halloween recap. Wednesday, it turned into, “I just need to post something. Anything.” Then I was really busy. So now it’s today. And I’ve already forgotten most details of the weekend and Halloween.

I do remember Saturday, there was poker over at RLP’s. In his multitasking glory (hole), he set up the game to coincide with the Breeders’s Cup races, which he and other players were betting on. So every 45 minutes or so, we’d stop in the middle of a hand to watch the horses run around the track. And people were sitting out hands to place bets over the Internets. But the poker was great. I got some nifty hands, including an early full house on the flop and turning pocket aces into a “he-didn’t-see-that-coming” full house. However, I didn’t build well on these successes and squandered my money on some (very) bad play. As usual.

Oh, during the poker game I had a few beers. My first alcohol in three weeks (since during the dark days of my stomach problem). There are no incidents to report. If I’d had four or five beers (and a camera), maybe the story would be different.

We didn’t have a lot going on the rest of the weekend. We were house/pet-sitting for the in-laws, so we weren’t at home a lot. Which further delayed our adjusting to the new HVAC system. See, the old system’s thermostat was likely several degrees off from our current (digital) thermostat. We’ve had it set to 70 degrees, which feels like the mid-60s with the old thermostat. Michelle was complaining about being cold the other night. “But it’s at 70.5!” Still, it was cool. Now things are starting to warm up. On the old thermostat, it started getting warm and uncomfortable as the temperature got above 75 degrees, which is because it was really about 80. Christ. Anyway, now that we’ve had our very outside-the-code 1960s electrical system upgraded to this century, we can witness the firepower of our fully armed and operational HVAC. Y’know . . . now that it’s getting up into the 80s during the day and barely dropping below 60 at night. Goddamn Florida weather.

Yawn. So, Halloween was grand. Michelle, true to form, dressed up as the Bride of Frankenstein. (The dressing up part was true to form, because Halloween is her second favorite holiday of the year . . . okay, maybe her favorite, period.) Anyway, Mia was a geisha and her cousin/trick-or-treating partner was a witch. Before trick-or-treating we went to her school for the Halloween Carnival. There are some pictures here, including this one:


shaken and poured by Scott-san at 4:58 PM