A Tiger's Tale

I tried to catch tigers by the tail when I was small
mom told me how
but I was always sleepy and woke up tigerless
like I do now trying to catch sleep
as elusive as those tigers
instead envisioning mad worlds of the tailess
turning over and over and over the sheets getting tangled 
my feet always trying to push them whole
so if I do sleep I'll wake up in a real bed made
the way it should be
tight with corners sharp hospital ready
when I earned a dime from mom to do it right
never understanding the reason for such a 
bed like I do now.
I hear the trains near my house at night
like rain waking me to rythmically loll me back
the cadence of the water spot on
the equal clatter of the trains just as spot
carrying wet tigers
licking wet paws and hinds
before they sleep as I try to with a wet face and coarse towel
before my tight bed with corners calling a good night
for only a dime
not much of a cost in these costly times for a tale
of mom stories and sleepless nights where tiger's tails
take guises of whatever it is that keeps you awake.
I don't know what it is that keeps sleep at bay
but trains and rain and tigers help
the clock of my mother's heart
beats and ticks to
lull me to furtive sleep
when I think of her tigers
and their tales.

New Stuff Under Construction

With new attention let it be noted that the author of this page has finally decided to get off his lazy ass/mind and get to crackin' again with a pen/keyboard. Details forthcoming....;

Notes from the Attic...warts an all.

All right, a week of vacation starts tonight and it was kicked off with almost getting knocked down the basement stairs again by Jackson and Brady’s usual “hello Steve…hello…lick, lick…hello…hello Steve…” jump to the crotch greeting and my eventually calling one “knuckle” and the other “head” for eating my dinner (it was in a bag I left on the counter, my mistake). I mean I probably would have forgotten I brought it home in the first place so at least someone or somefur ate it, but damn, that was my dinner.

So anyway, a week of vacation starts tonight and it looks like a stay at home, project kind of week. One of the intended projects is to finish painting the outside of the house as long as that lady that controls the weather allows. I’m sure the first question is “have you done this before? You sound almost confident in a definitive statement kind of way?”  The answer to that statement is. No.  But in my first foray into house painting, round one a month ago, I successfully got about two thirds of it done without it looking like it was done by a six year old in need of their first trip to Sterling Optical so I’m hoping to continue the work. Brushes crossed.

Now since it’s been so long since I’ve taken time in this Frankenberry’s Attic for some key scribbling I figured I’d catch you up on how things have been going in Frankenland with some new Notes from Attic part whatever…haven’t a clue.

-          My Buccos have been making me an extremely happy fella these days what with them making the MLB.com Power Rankings top 10 consistently an all for the first time since there wasn’t an MLB.com and pulling into August with the best record in Baseball.  Do I take such an occurrence with a Gibraltar sized grain? Well, of course. I’m an elephant on the last two seasons. But that salt rock is starting to grow perceptively smaller with each passing day and win and, dare I say that I’m confident they can be playing ball in October? Yes. Not quite sure what to do with myself actually but hell, I’ll continue to wear my Pirates boxers, don whatever Bucco hat that I have that hasn’t been eaten by Jackson, call it lucky because and pull the same socks out of the hamper that I wore last night while watching them win on the PC here. Yes they smell, but they won while I wore them, so there! As to the above mentioned  October baseball in Pittsburgh? I didn’t say it out loud, so keep it to yourself.

-          Riddle me this? How many knives does it take at the FrankenGreco Ranch for the JG to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Now, how many knives should it take to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the real world? Answer? 3 and 1. Yes here at the stead we are not in the real world as it apparently takes JG 3 knives to make such a sandwich. One for the peanut butter, one for the jelly and then another to actually cut the damn sandwich. Sometimes it even requires 2 plates! This is all in an effort to make sure the peanut butter does not taint the jelly nor that the jelly taints the peanut butter and that the cut of the sandwich be clean of either. I, by the way, am considered to be some sort of ignorant peasant for even considering making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich any other way.  And my Maria is where Jagger learned of this architecture of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  I live with crazy people. Crazy people who also don’t, in the planning stages of peanut butter and jelly sandwich constructing, have a post construction plan. They don’t do the dishes. 

-          Turned to Sports Center the other night for some ballgame highlights but instead they led with golf and a parade of the gallery, the envy of a Monty Python Ministry of Silly Walks skit never done, breaking away almost, but not quite, yet quickly enough to the second most boringly exciting moment in all of sports. The next hole. Like making the highlights when you catch a foul ball do you think the lead gallery guy walks slowly/quickly to his car to drive slowly/quickly home to check the match replays to see if he made tonight’s sports?

 “Hey honey, look…it’s me on the 8^th! Had that guy next to me in my pocket! Psyched him out…he almost tripped!”

 

…“Yes dear (sigh) I can see. You looked silly. Chicken or frozen pizza tonight? Oh, did you pick up wine? Please tell me you picked up wine and please say frozen pizza.”

 

-          The first most boringly exciting moment in all of sports by the way? The slam dunk.  You’re tall. Got it.

-          On a bathroom break a couple of days ago at the station I looked in the mirror and noted that my left eyebrow had a mind of its own. Apparently it wants to point northeast…at all times. Is this a concern? A friend noted, after I posed this question on Facebook, that it was OK as long as the eyebrow didn’t fight with my ear hair. I responded with a “never fear” as the arms of my glasses serve as a sort of face grocery divider. Just gotta watch that the nose hairs don’t get rebellious.     

-          Still waiting to see how Kanye saying, a while ago, that he doesn’t want the baby to be on reality TV works out. At the time Kim agreed, saying she would be Ok with just “sharing her experience as a mother-to-be vicariously with television viewers.” Is there a definition I’m missing? This was before she popped out “North” West. Now I realize it’s incredibly important in the otherworld of entertainment land to give your child some sort of singular, boutiquely unique name. It is what it is, right Blue Ivy, Pilot Inspektor and Bronx Mowgli? But I think Kanye and Kim both missed the boat with the cute play on words of naming the poor child “North”. I think they should have gone with something more uniquely original to them bothand Kim’s family. “Talent.”

-          This from a recent National Weather Service recent report: Lightning is a danger to outdoor enthusiasts. Just a heads up.

-          Maria puts the toilet paper on the toilet paper thingy in the bathroom roll sheet down. I put it roll sheet up. Should I be worried about us? You know as a couple?

As to the FrankenGreco Ranch it is business as usual. Controlled chaos.

-          Jackson snuck upstairs to the Attic and ate all the cat food while my Maria was up there with her mother!  (Shoes was even licking the inside of the bowl like some sort of homeless scavenger when I got home). Thankfully Jackson didn’t discover the tasty, granola covered treats in the cat box.

-          Brady again hid some bits of things he shouldn’t have eaten in the first place for later. (none of us knows how he does that).

-          Shoes sat in the mud room meowing at the basement door waiting for me, not realizing I was already upstairs.

-          My little Bella tried to kill me again with her under footness when she got stuck in my sock at the top of the stairs. Then she tried to play cute with a belly rub roll. Devious.

-          The JG cannibalized the remote for the upstairs TV and lost the back of it (I discovered this when the TV didn’t react to my remoting).

“JG? Where the hell are the batteries?”

“I used them for my own TV”. 

“(sigh) Where is the back of the remote?”

 “I left it here on the futon, right next to it”

”So where is it?”

”it’s…wait…Bella!”  (future reference: never leave anything out in the open that can be hockey pucked on a hard wood floor).

But hey, it’s all good. I’ll take being able to sleep in for a couple of more weeks before school starts again. The sleeping in is courtesy of Jagger actually offering to get the boys in the morning for their eat, pee, poop for the rest of the summer. Now, for poor Jackson and Brady,  this “first up” has come  a couple of times in the early afternoon when his highness has decided  to drag his up all night it’s summer ass out of bed. Sorry boys. And he considers this one of his chores. I’m ok with it for the moment. Jackson and Brady can hang, crossed legged, for those occasional sleep ins that I’m envious of but I do have to convince him that walking to the mailbox to grab the mail isn’t also a chore. He’s doing well though, and I do so like living with JG. He is a wonder of energy, curiosity and a reminder of us when.  Thanks kid. You keep me young (and often old).

Well, gotta get to the drama that is Bella is playing with a bug that, for some reason, is Japanese 50’s horror size to JG and Maria. I know Shoes. It’s a bug. What am I gonna do? Gotta go…

“yes babe I got it…you’re pretty by the way…ok, bug first….”

And so it goes………………………..

There were other notes here but they were joyously lost somewhere between Shoes fat orange ass now laying on my keyboard, those Jackson / Brady hello’s to the balls, JG’s youth, Bella belly rubs and my Maria being pretty. Life at the FrankenGreco Ranch. I’m good. Life...                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

A Momma Nature’s White and Snug Friday

Wow Momma Nature with a vengeance this weekend huh? Mired this time in the white stuff to go along with the cold. Thankfully found a new friend in a guy with a plow named Rich after a call to my Maria’s dad who is still in Florida laughing his ass silly, I’m sure, at the weather reports from a place he is not. After a phone call or two later Rich was found and I just watched round one from my spot in the attic here of him doing what my old man back is glad to not have to. Clearing the driveway of this cursed snow. I love Rich by the way. He doesn’t know this, though, so let’s keep it a secret. He and I just met, and only over the phone. Don’t want to scare him by moving too fast.

Making my slow way home from the station I saw many the bundled person with a hood, gloves, annoyed resolve and a shovel or two and felt the kinship of this annoyed resolve and sure curses, though mine will wait till tomorrow. It is what we do here, I guess, but surely is mocked by those in even colder climes who have this as part of the daily as much as brushing teeth.  We all though share the joy, I hope (for those who don’t, and I don’t say this very often if ever, God bless) of finally getting to the snug. Mine is here in the attic with Shoey’s fat ass keeping me company while I scribble/key a few words of observation to help keep me sane.  

 

It is also knowing that the rest of the gang here at the FrankenGreco Ranch are good and in. The JG, who has been battling a cold for what seems like forever (as have I) as well as dealing with headaches, is downstairs with his iPad and Minecraft and feeling better. How do I know? Maria’s phone just rang with what sounded like a horn announcing a big ship’s long awaited arrival. Yes, he messed with her sounds. He’s definitely feeling better. My phone is safely up here with me by the way, otherwise I’ll surely fly awake, up and saluting or something in the morning or maybe be forced to jump under the bed out of abject fear.

my Maria is comfy under a Jackson and Brady blanket and an actual blanket and little Bella? If she is not sitting in her spot next to the space heater she’s looking for shit to knock on the floor while goading Shoes to wrestle or piss him off at the litter box. Shoes is very much a guy’s guy and if he could grab a copy of Kitty Illustrated or Cat’s Digest for his quiet time in said box he surely would, but for some reason that is just the time that little Bella waits to poke her head, stalker-like, around the corner of the nook in the attic where the litter is and seemingly wait for him to be in mid-moment before she pounces.  Kitty Illustrated/Cat’s Digest plus growls hit the floor running…poor Shoes. Ladies don’t understand…

 

…well the boys have been out for the last time for the night enjoying the crap out of the snow as only dogs seem to do, (I can only imagine Shoey and Bella tiptoeing) Jackson occasionally coming up for air from his snow nosing to look like he learned too many lessons from the 80’s and 90’s and Brady running all willy-nilly as if he has been nosing the same snow dust and needs to work off some hedonistic rock n roll energy. I can only now finally sit in this snug writing you all. I’ve got 5 discs in my ancient 5 disc player (which works just fine thank you, it even has a remote) alternating shuffle between Mumford & Sons, Supergrass, Coldplay, Cage the Elephant and Bob Mould.  I broke out the ancient 5 disc CD because my usual listen on the player on my only a year old PC (I’m old just saying PC huh?) is being a bit wonky. Tried and true I guess and I’m pretty darn ear happy.

So Mother Nature still floats heavy white and pretty, the “gang’s all here” is comfort gained and I sit, write and… well just sit…and it’s a Friday… if you’ve been here in the attic before you’ll know that Friday means I’m doing laundry and for some reason I like it. That seems strange maybe but it is part of the comfort.  It says home and as I went earlier to grab JG’s stuff he reminded me of why it is that I find it says home. He and I butt heads often, as would be expected with him being 13 in two days and me being…well just being with a soon to be 13 year old. I had my flashlight and was looking for his hamper (I like flashlights to the disdain of the masses here that like living in the sun) when he asked what I was doing as I was surely disturbing his Minecraft play.  After I found his hamper I said as much but with the flashlight in my mouth as I grabbed it with both hands.  “I’m getting your laundry.” Flashlight mouth sounded “iummm gettunn iin urrrlawndriss.”  He said “what” and then said “I don’t speak flashlight.”

 Just damn funny and more comfort.

It’s still snowing…a lot. I would normally write “sigh” here but...  

“…Yes I know I know the shovel is right there honey…”  “you’re pretty...”  “Brady did what?...and with his nose…?”…”have you seen my gloves?...”…”Hello Bella…oh damn, Jackson, yes I said her name… leave her alone…”….”Yes Brady that’s Shoes’s ass…” …”My boots are where?”...”Holy Cow that’s some snow…”

Did I say comfort gained?

Did I also say Holy Cow it’s still snowing…?

-fb

Post Note:  Next day, 6:40am. Just woke to take the boys out. Good morning Momma Nature. This is a shitload of snow.

8:30am. Just watched round two of the driveway being plowed.  Did I mention that I love this Rich fella? Sshhh, he still doesn’t know. A shovel awaits and, as I eventually do with a shovel what shovels do I will do so with the gang all snug. Like bugs.  Snug is good. And I don’t mind bugs.

-fb again.

New Notes From the Attic...

Notes from the Attic – Friday, January 25^th

Been mired in quite a frigid week here in the Hudson Valley as we have enjoyed temps in the singles in the overnight and just barely the 20’s during the day all the while hoping this fictional global warming (according to some who are big fans of oil heat and big cars) would kick in, you know, like tomorrow, damn the future! I’m layering…a lot and I stink under all of them after they are peeled.  I don’t have enough clothes for extended periods of said layering nor do I have the $ for the extra laundry detergent necessary to keep cleaning the aforementioned stink.  Plus when I wear the super long scarf that my Maria got me for Christmas inside at work, sans coat, I look like some sad Steven Tyler wannabe minus the slowly sinking smile that has him looking like an old woman on a cheese line.

                This whole damn cold thing makes the dread of mornings palpable like an arctic albatross taking residence on my shoulder the night before reminding me of how cold my ass is going to be at 5:40a when I wake for my Jackson/Brady morning followed by the extra negative wind chill of passing cars at the end of the driveway waiting for school bus. Those bus lights though, when they finally come, are like beacons from the heavens (I’m just hoping no one up top hears my heavenly character inspired curses at the cold) telling me that precious warm nap time is almost upon you my son…(then moments later it seems)…now get up for work…yeh, we heard you. Heavenly karma’s a bitch.

                At least Mother Nature has promised a relatively tropical break from this cold spell this week with temps in the 40’s by Tuesday. Shorts and t-shirts are in order I think and maybe a bad Hawaiian shirt. Also a quick call to my mom and my Maria’s dad who are both in Florida right now (not together, that would be weird) might be warranted to remind them how much we love them…and hate them.

                So amidst this freaky cold I have a few Notes for the Attic:

-          Found out this week that Charlie Brown was arrested on five counts of felony including stalking. I’m assuming they got him when they discovered foot prints and crushed cigarette butts with his DNA on them in a bush outside the little red haired girl’s bedroom window.

 

-          Saw a video of a kitten jumping up from and then back into a hamper to grab clothes thrown at him. That’s more help than I get from the JG with laundry and he’s 12 and human!

-          Watched a bit of the new season of American Idol. I don’t want a nickname bestowed on me by Nicki Minaj however much it might make me feel “special.”

Notes from the Attic – The week of January 28^th

So my good bud J.J. (Jeremiah Johnsen – Cumulus Westchester) got me on face time on my phone yesterday. Hadn’t done the face time thing on my new iPhone yet so it was an adventure, as most of this old dog new figgerin’ on my first smart phone is, but once I got it down I realized Jeremiah wasn’t wearing a shirt. Now before you start thinking weird stuff, you freaks, this isn’t a regular occurrence, plus the lighting wasn’t right on my end, wouldn’t have fit the mood. No, there was a reason he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was in Jamaica and just coming off the beach or something I’m guessing.  But anyway, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, I figured out the face time thing and he informed me that the reason he was getting in touch with me wasn’t to rub in the fact that he was in Jamaica and I wasn’t (bastard) but that he was there with his radio station for a live broadcast for a couple of mornings for a promotion where they gave away a trip and got to accompany the winner.  His station wasn’t there alone either, as there were a number of other morning shows from around the country there as well for the same promotion and one of them was helmed by my old boss from Dayton, Ohio, Jeff Stevens (who by the way also happens to be my canned competition in the afternoons across the radio street at Lite-FM. Weird huh?)  That old boss of mine thing was 16 long and short years ago and here he was, when the connection was made that his new friend J.J.  knew me, exclaiming “Are you f’ing kidding me? Frankenberry?! I can’t get away from that f’ing guy!” I miss him. It’s either someone somewhere, anywhere that for some reason knows me, of me, wishes they had shot me when they had the chance or it’s a Pittsburgh Pirate fan out of the blue showing up to cry on someone’s shoulder.  I guess it is indeed a small world.

More notes from the attic in a new week (actual day any):

-          Woke up today with a large drool spot on my pillow. That, along with excessive ear hair is not a good sign.

-          Posted on my Frankenberry Wczx Mix Facebook page that I had seen a photo of Adam Lambert celebrating his 31^st birthday with a shirtless David Arquette giving him a lap dance. Pic also had another shirtless dude in the background. I posted this along with a picture of my “What the..?” face. Now the only nightmare that Adam Lambert may have inspired in the past like, say, creeping into to my house to give me makeup hints has now been trumped by this one. “rrrrrrr” chill shake face sound effect.

 

-          Open letter to the  NFL on behalf of football fan Roy Fox of Indiana who patented the phrase “Harbowl” about a year ago in anticipation of a possible future meeting of the two Harbaugh brother NFL head coaches facing each other in the Super Bowl.  After being “pressured” by the NFL to give up the patent for his phrase because it could be, according to them, laughingly confused with their trademark Super Bowl Mr. Fox abandoned the patent.  Now, even though the NFL’s case was weak at best I’m going to assume that the “pressure” applied to Mr. Fox to relinquish the patent was more on the heavy handed threatening side. Hell, they wouldn’t even grant his request to simply reimburse him for the $1000 he spent on the patent and throw in some tickets for the Colts and, for some reason, an autographed photo of Roger Goodell. No, I don’t get that either. The open letter goes as such: Dear NFL. Screw You.     

-          This morning I realized as I got up at my usual 5:40a for a Jackson/Brady eat, pee, poop that there is no dog in this wide world that pees on his own feet better than Jackson. Though this morning was only his front right I’ve seen him hit 3 out 4 paws before. Westminster Dog Show talent this Bitches!

-          Ran to Stop and Shop yesterday to grab a sandwich for myself and my sis, Beth Christy from the Wolf (that’s Country if you couldn’t tell from the moniker).  Before I went inside I decided to hit the bottle return as I had about 356 or so empty Stop and Shop 12 packs of soda water cans in my back seat, trunk rolling dumpster of a car. While pushing my nickels into the return thingy machine an older guy came in to do the same in the return thingy machine right next to mine. Right on my hip it seemed. He only had a few returns. When he was done he slowly adjusted the belt on his pants…slowly adjusted the belt on his pants…did I say slowly…and the belt on his pants? still at the machine right next to mine, right on my hip and said a smiling “goodbye” or “take care” or something to that effect. My eleven dollars and ten cents made me feel cheap and used. I should have brought the bag of empty beer cans to make it an even fifteen dollars. Standards.

-          I have Monday off by request after this week of notes. The original request was for the Monday following the Steelers in the bowl a few years ago but now I request, if I can, this Monday just to have a day but to also make it known, in my own small way,  that the Monday following the Super Bowl should be a national lazy holiday. I hate to say it but of all the Mondays that are national holidays, all for good reason, most are days we just say “thanks” and gladly roll back over. But the Monday following the Super Bowl? Shit, that’s a day we need.

Back in the attic again soon…

-fb

Some Movies...

Notes from the Attic / Friday January 18, 2013:

Been a couple of months since my last entry here in the attic, “Some Fridays…” and appropriately enough I’m writing again on another “some Friday” (and yes getting the family in clean duds as usual). It’s been a couple of long weeks back in Radioville after kind of taking some time off from work the week before. It was nice, I guess, to at least not have to go in for a day or two and instead stay home here at the FrankenGreco Ranch with my furries during the day. For little Bella and my Shoey it was heaven lap/sit time to watch bad TV with Stevie during the day and not have me instead do the usual which is frantically stepping around, via flashlight (I have a thing for flashlights), little under foot Bella pawsies and Shoes meows/speak at 5:40 in the morning after a more than unwelcome too damn early alarm call from my phone while making my way downstairs to a big dramatic Jackson yawn and an eager Brady butt shake waiting for breakfast and then a pee/poop all the while trying to convince the JG that there is a certain urgency to getting dressed and ready for school as the bus doesn’t run on Jagger  time. There are the often JG check-ins, met with morning not awake growls, to remind him that just standing and staring dazedly at his dresser in the dark will not magically have clothes land on his back and ass.  This is then followed by the bus, a nap and another unwelcome too damn early alarm call from my phone for more of the frantic, then to the shower for a brushed tooth or three, a hair washed or five and an attempt in the half dark (hate bathroom lights) to make myself presentable enough to not frighten small children while villagers attempt  to drive me out of town with torches and pitchforks.  It’s even worse for the peoples of the village on the days when I shave in that half dark. I scare myself.

So I spent a few days at the end of that week with cat lap warmers and joyously not getting up for that second call of the phone alarm and found myself falling into the weekend where there was playoff football. Now this, as a guy, is usually as far as I go with the TV during the season on the weekend, especially at playoff time (Steelers or not). But it was just that, “Steelers or not”, that had me instead move away from the tried and true of hours upon hours of pre-game commentary and prognostication channel flipping (or just ESPN as default) followed by the games themselves  to,  instead, maverick that I am, try other channels!

I discovered movies! I knew they were there but I also knew they were always there with a boatload of commercials. So why waste my time? Plus weren’t they always  that  crappy flic that no one wanted to see in the first place (anything Adam Sandler comes to mind) or movies that bombed or just flared out? (anything Adam Sandler comes to mind again). Yes they were! And they ran more than once! I’m a fan of the Rock…my fault…Dwayne Johnson more than I ever thought.  “Gridiron Gang”? Watched it twice… ate lunch and dinner around it as a matter of fact. Jackie Chan? I’ve always loved him but after watching his “Karate Kid” re-do three times I had to actually shush the JG in the midst of view three when he came upstairs to show me his latest iPad app that blows shit up for the scene where Jackie breaks down explaining the car in his house.

Hell, I even watched “Beverly Hills Chihuahua”. I know I would probably be best off not even admitting that here but you know what?  If you can turn away from a talking animal flic especially when you’re just vegging all comfy with your own animals then you’re just not human and I don’t like you. Also throughout the weekend there were the requisite runnings, it seems, of “Shawshank Redemption” and “The Green Mile” which always catch my eye with the bits that then lead to the pieces and before I know it I’ve watched them both again smiling or crying pavlovian-like on cue.  Something Ron Howard? I found it. Matt Damon and Ben Affleck? Your choice on one or both like or not. Any number “Van Wilder?”  Comedy Central had the goods. Jason Stathem? Flip to Spike TV and let your brain stop.

All in all it was a damn fine weekend, well other than upsetting my Maria by falling asleep on the Saturday just as she was coming home from another day of annoyance at work when I had promised a Steve cooked meal (usually Spartan-like but always hardy with whatever boxed noodles are available plus shooked and then baked chicken and a can of corn) and a pay per view. I asked for a mulligan.

But in the end nobody was stinky on Monday morning, I had spent quality time with the furries, including Jackson and Brady who think the snow blanketed back yard is the greatest thing since pizza crust and I was more movie savvy , good flics or not. Opinion all. In my mind after such a weekend? They were the greatest films since “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn”, “Rosebud” and “Here's looking at you, kid.”

Then Monday came…sigh. There’s always then Monday.

 -fb 

Some Fridays...

Hey! It’s Friday! Some notes here from a month’s plus worth of end of weeks…Hope you like.

Notes from the Attic / Friday October 12, 2012:

I’ve said this before and I will say it again. Do not be envious when I tell you that’s it’s a Friday night and mine is going to prove to be better than yours. Top laundry baby! U Can’t Touch This!!! (nor the underwear, it’ still dirty you weirdo).  Na Na Na Na! Anyway, it is a Friday night and the first load is in as I watch the Yanks beat the Orioles in game five to advance to the ALCS and take on the Detroit.  I really shouldn’t start such an exciting evening with disappointment but hey it is what it is. I turned it off before the last out…made me feel better as the last thing I need to see is Yankee fans celebrating. Long story. Maybe I’ll go out tomorrow and buy a Tigers hat and start watching reruns of Magnum P.I.

Besides the obvious anticipation I felt on the way home from work at the prospect of folding, dresser placing and the knowledge that I won’t be stinky tomorrow I also knew that I would be heading home to our Brady, one half of the Brady/Jackson pup combo here at the FrankenGreco Ranch (I still refer to them as the “pups” though they are close to 3 now).  Why do I single out Brady you ask, Frankenberry you playin’ favorites meanie?! Well it’s because I’m looking forward to see how he is doing on day two of wearing the cone. Yes the cone of shame. You see, yesterday, he and his sidekick were doing their usual sidekicky thing and wrestling like some sort of WWPE (World Wrestling Pup Entertainment) event at the FrankenGreco Backyard Arena when it went terribly puppy awry and Brady ended up with a wayward Jackson happy fun tooth swipe that would require stitches and the aforementioned cone…plus some serious $ and sedatives that had him a touch wobbly and wonky last night.

 

When I got up this morning to take he and Jackson out after their 5:30a breakfast, Brady, still a little sedadazed, was just now learning to navigate his new coney blinders world, including discovering door jams for the first time, table legs, Jackson’s ass and even my leg. Eventually I was able to get Brady down the back steps amidst more cone maneuvering until he just sat himself down on the leaf carpet back yard and cocked his head as if to say “I’m feeling a little pathetic Stephen, can ya help?” it was one of those moments that, as a parent (for those of you who are and for me as a surrogate to 4 furries and a 12 year old) make you want to cry and laugh all at the same time. Cry for the vulnerability and laugh for the picture of it. Poor Brades.

 

Notes from the Attic / Friday October 19, 2012:

In the attic on another Friday night and, yes (before you ask and the envy gets the best of you again) I’m back staying on top of keeping the t-shirts, jeans, jammies and assorted sundries clean for myself and the gang. It’s what I do I guess and to tell ya the truth? I Kinda like it. “Sad” you’re saying to yourself I’m sure.  Well, just keep keeping it to yourself and stop judging okay? I’m also listening to Bob Mould as I am wont to do while writing up here and, yes (before you don’t ask as I’m sure you weren’t going to) you probably haven’t heard of him. As my Maria said once while searching for band t-shirts for me as a gift “I would have gotten you some t- shirts of your favorite bands…but your favorite bands don’t have f’ing t-shirts Stephen.…here’s the Beatles.” I said thanks. I love the Beatles.

Also the Tigers hat I didn’t buy and the Magnum P.I. reruns that I didn’t watch were enough to put the kibosh on the Yanks series hopes this year. For all you cynics that dismiss superstition take that!

So a week later Brady has gotten quite accustomed to the cone though I’m sure not because it’s something in his pup mind he was looking to scratch off his early bucket list. He has figured out how to eat while the cone covers the whole bowl, how to grab his favorite toy to the inside of it and even how to discover, anew,  Shoes’s ass every day without completely freaking the poor cat out with the extra plasticware in his behind.

He still climbs to his perfect bed spot with Maria without too much disturbance (and even our friend Katy on a night when the couch was the best bet), maneuvers ok through short brush and fallen tree limbs to poop and can even keep alive the idea of wrestling with Jackson in the backyard.

 

I’m quite proud of his quick adaptiveness and can’t wait for my little guy to finally be able to get the stitches out and see the joy of liberation, that he doesn’t know is coming, at the removal of this somewhat clear plastic world view restrictor.

These furries are such a huge part of our life here at the Ranch that I think I’ll get as much joy out of Brady’s release from the cone as he. So will Maria and Jagger. Shoes? I’m not so sure. The extra plasticware did make it a little more difficult for Brady to check out his nethers.  We’ll see.

As to the furries though I think little Bella might be trying to kill me. She’s a smart kit and is surely aware of my life insurance as she tried to toss me earlier with her under foot grabbing of my sock at the top of the stairs.

Bella: “Almost got him this time Shoey.”

Shoes: “Keep working it kid.”

Bella: “He does have us as beneficiary right?”

Shoes: “I don’t know. That lady he likes might be. Probably is, but keep being cute. He loves that. Could make him change the paperwork.”

Bella: “Gotcha…watch this!”

Shoes: “Lamp shot?”

Bella: “Damn straight! Some of his favorite cute “me” pictures.”

 

Shoes: “You’re good kid.”

Bella: “Of course. That money could make us fat. Think of the treats…”

Notes from the Attic / Friday November 16, 2012:

                Yeh , laundry again. Shut up. I’m sure you’ve noticed that it’s been basically a month since my last entry. Well, life in Radioville has been its usual busy monster and I’ve also had a few other things going on since my last entry. I’ll get to some of those few others in a bit but first I’d be remiss if I didn’t let you know that the Brades finally got his collar off. He was a definitely relieved, well, as relieved as I might perceive him to be. A perception gleaned from the apparent joy he got out of immediately sticking his nose in Shoes’s butt minus the doggy satellite dish and then wrestling with Jackson unencumbered. All back to crazy normal. Sorry Shoes.

                Tonight I’m listening to the first two of Green Day’s soon to be triple CD releases. I haven’t been able to take them out of my CD in the car (yeh, dinosaur boy here actually has to physically place hard discs in the player after taking them out of the cases in my overloaded glove compartment…no fancy smart stuff or some Pandora chick or hell…whatever). They are both tremendous no matter the delivery.

Now when it comes to the other things I mentioned earlier that had me with a month’s worth of lax the biggest one was preparing for officiating a wedding. Yes, believe it or not, Frankenberry here was the actual minister, justice, priest, Elvis or whatever person it is that stands in front of the gathered somewhere waiting for the bride to arrive while all the while trying to look officially minister, justice, priest, Elvis or whatever-like. I think I did a pretty good job on this front. It’s amazing what 10 minutes in the shoe department and another 15 in the suit department of JC Penny the night of the rehearsal dinner will do. I was dressed to the 7’s at least and had my glasses at the end of my nose looking old and pastorly-type (this way I could peer over them without the beautiful bride to be looking all fuzzy and stuff while on the arm of her father’s pride). Once she made her way to the understandably teary “My God, she’s beautiful” hubby to be I was then able to look through my prescription and start the proceedings and relieve some of my nervous.

 

Let’s go back. A good while before the big day that I knew was coming because I was to be invited along with my lovely my Maria, Jeremiah Johnsen (not to be confused with the 1972 classic…different name spelling and no beard or living off the land) the future groom asked if I would be the guy to do exactly what I was just talking about. Now, with Jeremiah being one of my best friends, one of my best for quite some while actually (we’ve enjoyed the woes of working together, beer and baseball…is there more than that?), I of course said yes not thinking of the incredible case of nerves I might feel as the moment approached. Hell, at the time it was forever away until, well, it wasn’t.  So the week before, on a Friday night (thus explaining my gap in writing here of at least one Friday) I, yes, still did laundry again but with another agenda amidst it…to write some meaningful words for my JJ and his gorgeous Allie. I had gotten a basic outline from Allie replete with all the beautiful wedding words, introductions of special people with other beautiful wedding words, as well as the repeat after me’s, do you takes, here’s the rings and then the finale’ spokes that were to be part of what was sure to be a wonderous day…as long as I didn’t muck it up.

I wrote within this outline and then edited, edited, and edited and then edited some more (I mentioned nerves and editing right?). I also did my best to try to make them the meaningful words that I mentioned earlier. I remembered the poem that I had written the night before my own wedding day and how important it was to me to make sure that those words were just right. I never read it at my day as I intended, something I’ve always regretted no matter how things eventually turned out. This was going to be different though…darnitt.

Then it was the 10 and 15 minutes at JC Penny and the rehearsal dinner and the knowledge that the next day was tomorrow. That’s not far by the way. I felt woefully unprepared. (on a side note, the food at the rehearsal dinner was fantastic as I sat with the bride to be’s mom and her husband. I think my profinity for eating, when allowed and provided, and my being myself, talking around forkfulls, helped me endear myself to them). The next day they seemed happy to see the guy with the funny name who, I’m sure, at some point in the wedding process they said to themselves about “who the hell is this mockery of our girl’s big day that her guy has mockeryed us with?”

Did I say “next day?” The next day came…quickly. But my nerves calmed while standing next to the teary groom and waiting for the beautiful bride and then reading, through my prescription,  my own special words that sounded minister, justice, priest, Elvis or whatever-like and included the tried and trues along the way.

It ended up being a fine, fine day (not sure if the words of your song are applicable Tony Carey but I’ve always loved the title). There was dancing and silverware glass clinking for kisses, more dancing and then more wonderful, meaningful words from friends and…there was merriment.

 

I like merriment…merriment is good, especially when it is well deserved.

I also didn't muck it up. Point for me.

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p.s. These were my introductory words: (I’m proud of them).

Family, friends. We have been invited here today to share with our Allie and our Jeremiah a very important moment in their lives.  A moment where we get to see light…Light in a world that is too often dark…a light that is the celebration of their love for each other bringing us all together so that we can see it much brighter as we witness the union of these two sparkling points coming together and shining like a beacon. Shining as if to say to the world “go ahead, try and dim this.”

We also bring together now, Allie and Jeremiah, to witness a “completion.” They have been working on  individual “completes” their whole lives, and will continue to do so to the end, as do we all, but they also realized that to actually finish this “complete” , well, it would require company. The company of another…The company of each other as husband and wife.

No one can really say what it is that brings two people together, we just know that it happens and today it happens in grand fashion. With the union of these two bright spirits today, who started as friends and will stay so, but who came to believe that friendship was just the stepping stone to something bigger and something better, we witness “special”.

No one can really say, either, what it is that brings friends together… which friendships will fade or, which will last, through good and bad, doing what friends do…bringing the strength that only enduring friendships can bring. I know that I am lucky enough to have found, in Allie and Jeremiah the latter. It’s been 8 years since I first met Jeremiah at 2 Pendell, through the blessing and curse of our radio lives, and have since come to feel, that if he were my own son, I would be able to look inside myself and feel a great deal of pride at a job well done. (I would also come to feel that it would be nice to witness a second Pirate victory at some point).  Not long after that I met Allie, also at 2 Pendell and I was never happier than to watch the slow, wonderful progression of their love for each other every day after they realized it themselves.  I will be forever grateful that whatever it is that finds certain people thrown together for life that these two are part of mine. I will also be forever proud of the day that Jeremiah asked me to officiate this day. The honor is great and humbling.

Remember this day everyone and look forward to watching an even greater progression of their love as it blossoms into a family and a life. I can think of no better pair for us to observe and treasure the hope of the “future.” 

Thank you Universal Life Church Monastery and the almighty internet.

 

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