My Mother, The Felon

It had been an uneventful week.  I spent a lame night in Mason, Ohio, for New Year's Eve and lost two hours of my life watching "Nacho Libre."

Seriously.  How bad is a movie when this is the funniest line?





So my weekend arrives and I ran over to my mom's house after going into work to wrap a couple items up on Saturday morning.

Within two minutes, she walks out with five Christmas presents.  I forgot that I had seen her during the holiday multiple times, but none of those were at the house where I would have my presents.

I shook the first box and guessed a shirt.

As I opened it, I saw it was a USPS Two Day Priority shipping box.

"Mom?  What are you doing?  You can't use these for gifts.  That's illegal."

"But they were the perfect size for wrapping gifts."

"Mom.  It's a felony or something."

"What?  Are you gonna turn me in?"

"Oh my God."  It was ridiculous to argue.  The damage was done.

I opened the box and I got socks.  

I open the second box and it is also a USPS Two Day Priority shipping box.

"Seriously?" I ask.  "This is a crime or something."

"They don't know I have them."  

Of course my typing this story up makes it visible for them, I guess.

"They will have your face on the wall up there if they catch you."

"They should've taken my photo while I was there because I am not going back."  She was getting defiant.  I see where my niece Avery gets it from.

The gift was a flannel shirt.

"You have to make a promise though," she said.  "For you to have this shirt, you have to throw out one of you old ones."

"No.  I just wear the old ones around the apartment."

"They're gross and ratty," she insisted.  

"I only have one left."

"It has to go."

She thought I still had one in a photo I have on Facebook when my now 16 year old nephew was born.  I got rid of it a year or so ago.

Bryon and Calvin, 11/21/96

That was one of my favorite shirts for years.  I did not so much as throw it out as it seems to have disintegrated.  I think it was officially gone after I vacuumed up the flannel molecules and changed my furnace filter.

I opened up the third gift and once again was another USPS box with another flannel shirt in it.

She slid the fourth box over and told me it was from dad.  It had different dimensions that the other three boxes.

I open it and it's ANOTHER USPS box.

"I knew I should've stopped you with those ramekins.  It was a gateway crime."

I open it up and it was a black sweatshirt and sweatpants.  

"Oh," she said.

"What?"

"That's not what I was expecting.  Your dad asked me, 'Do you think Bryon would wear a white sweat suit?'  I told him, 'No, he take it back because he will say it makes him look like a fucking snowman.'"

The fifth gift came in it's own box, so no crimes were committed in wrapping it.

I did check and according to the USPS website:

The terms of Agreement for the use of United States Postal Service shipping supplies is as follows: I understand that Express Mail service, Priority Mail service, Global Express Guaranteed, Express Mail International and Priority Mail International packaging is the property of the United States Postal Service and is provided solely for sending Express Mail, Priority Mail, Global Express Guaranteed, Express Mail International and Priority Mail International. Misuse may be a violation of federal law.

I guess there is some wiggle room on "may be a violation?"  

May be it's not?

The Bryon Apocalypse

Today marks the end of the Mayan calendar and hopefully it marks an end to all the stupid Mayan Apocalypse jokes.  I am sure it is the end of the world for some people.  One website calculated 250,000 – 300,000 die every day.  Hopefully I am not going to be one of them nor is anyone I know.

It is interesting though, wondering how they determined the Mayan’s selected this date.

Perhaps it was some kid’s homework assignment?

Teacher : “I want you to carve a three wall essay that takes the calendar into the future as far as you can.”

As most kids are apt to do, this student did the minimum.

Or what if it was some stoner who halfway through his IT project decided to go smoke a bowl and he strolled down to the Siete/Once (7/11) to get some cheesy poofs only to get run over by a reckless Mayan god trying to put her make up on in the rear view mirror? 

They had cars, right?  I keep reading they were advanced.

It got me thinking of my legacy.  In IT development, the average system life span once in production is maybe three or four years.  Just yesterday I was setting up a table for pay periods and I mulled over how far into the future to take even if the chances of the system being around five years from now is very, very slim.

Who’s to say in the distance future, when archeologists come across my virtual server that holds my SQL database, and they see that my pay period table ends on October 7^th, 2031, that the world doesn't go apeshit over my calendar ending because I thought 500 seemed like a nice round number to represent the number of pay periods to generate in the system, retroactive to August? 

Will it be considered a prophecy?

Honestly, it was arbitrarily chosen and yet, I wonder, will this be known in the future as "The Bryon Apocalypse?" 

It could make me immortal, like a Mayan god, provided that I am wrong. 

***

In retrospect, I think I should add 12 records more so it is 512 records which is a binary number and computers are all about ones and zeroes.  YMMV.

Driving a Stolen Car in Minnesota

I spent last weekend end catching two Springsteen shows in Minnesota.  It is REALLY cold in Minnesota. It's so cold that polar bears won't live here. I know this because I did not see one.

My trip began with my trip to Matt's for a Jucy Lucy as soon as I left the airport.

I was also invited to write the review for the first night for Springsteen's website and thanks to great editing, it came out quite readable.

I even got to meet Joseph again.  I first met him on the Tom Joad tour back in 1996 and had not seen him for 16 years.

The second night of the show was quite amazing.  It started with meeting up with Joseph and hanging out with him for a couple hours while we waited for the wristbands to be given out.  The first wristband entered us in a drawing for the pit.  If we were successful in winning the lottery, we would receive a second wristband and enjoy the show within 70 feet of the stage.

While waiting in line, he had pulled out two songs names on cardboard signs he had been chasing for a long time; "Streets of Fire" and "From Small Things (Big Things One Day Come.)"  As someone else once said, Springsteen fans look at set lists of shows they don't attend and it's similar to being a baseball card collector.  We say "Got it, got it, got it, NEED IT!" as they go down the list.  "Streets of Fire" is the last song off "Darkness on the Edge of Town" that Joseph needs to complete the album.

We were off to the side having secured our pit entrance and he was trying to decide what song to put on the back of the two signs.  I asked him if he had Sharpie's on him to create the sign and he pulled a seven pack out of his pocket.  Springsteen fans are prepared for many roadside emergencies.

"You know what was on the setlist last night that he didn't play?" I asked.

"What?"

"Stolen Car."

Joseph was on his knees already when I shared this and he fell forward with his hands on the floor, head on the floor, fully devastated he did not get to see that song.  Bruce, for some reason, decided he did not want to play it last night and audibled something else.  The devastation was clear.  I felt bad for revealing that to him.

Then it struck me.

"Put 'Stolen Car' on the sign," I suggested.  "It was on there last night.  He might decided to play it as they soundchecked it."

He was slow and deliberate making the sign, even including a car as a graphic in the bottom left corner.  Of the three songs, I thought this would have the best chance being played.

Then I had an even grander idea.  

I would take one sign and be at the back of the pit, Joseph would be at the front of the pit.  During the night, Bruce would come out to the middle stage at the back of the pit four times and hopefully see the sign.  Having the signs separated seemed like it would increase the chances rather than two people next to each other.

I had the sign with "From Small Things" and "Stolen Car" written on either side and got on the wall against the middle stage upon entering the pit.  There were two ladies were to my right and as luck would have it, one of them was from Columbus.  We struck up a conversation as I was wearing my Ohio State sweatshirt and had seventeen years of living there to share stories about the area.

Her friend was quite attractive and it struck me that if I notice her friend, Bruce Springsteen is also much more likely to notice her than he is to notice me.  I needed to get her to hold the sign up for me.  I was trying to figure someway to arrange this without sounding creepy and then the opportunity presented itself.  They asked me if I could help hold their spot while they went to get a drink; they even offered to by me a drink if I held their spot.  I said I would, but rather than a drink, when Bruce is at the middle stage, could you hold the sign up for me?

She agreed.

Mission accomplished, I went and sat in some seats because I had a long night of standing ahead of me.  A little later I met a couple from Minneapolis who sat down in their actual seats next to me.  They had not been to a concert in years, but they were there to see Bruce.  The husband had a great story about them actually sitting next to Bruce a couple years ago at orientation at Boston College.  The wife laughed about how hard it was to "be cool" and not embarrass themselves or Bruce and Patti.

When the lights went down, Bruce came out with a surprise opener of  "I'm a Rocker," and then launched into "Hungry Heart."  As expected, during "Hungry Heart," he was out at the middle stage and I think he saw the sign, because once he got back to the stage, he ran through several audibles including what I believe is only the second live performance of this song with the E Street Band since 1985.

It was magnificent.




Joseph missed out again on "Streets of Fire," getting "Something in the Night" from the same album instead, but I really think "Stolen Car" made up for it.

It turned out Bruce had tossed out most of the opening songs on the original set list and five of the first seven songs were audibles.  I love that randomness and looseness they can have.

I don't know if this is considered a proper sign request that was played or not amongst those in my group, but I am counting it as the plan worked even if he did not pull the sign up.  The end result was the same.  :)

Swinging Cactus

A couple Fridays back, my coworker Melissa and I had gone to lunch at Texas Roadhouse. 

For some reason, during the week, the only day they are open for lunch is Friday, so it is always quite crowded.  As a result, the service tends to be slower.  It did give me time to look around the decor from my seat during occasional lulls in the conversation.

On the ledge was a series of small cacti scattered around to the walkway.

"Do you think those are real cacti?" I asked Melissa.

"They look real."

I studied the one closest to me; it was about 6 feet away.

"I don't know," she replied.

I looked at the needles on the stump and they seemed to be curved downward, as if gravity had taken it's toll on it.  What I recall of a cactus is the needles are straight.  The needles also looked colored, but I am color blind and they were quite small.  I also thought that was risky to have real cacti out where a child could touch it or an elderly person could fall into it.  Or even worse, someone could knock it over the ledge onto someone below.

"I think it's fake."  I determined that the risk for an injury to the general public was too high for it to be real.

"Why not touch it?" she dared me.

Maybe I'll just pick it up and smack the waitress in the side of the face with it."  Our waitress was actually quite pretty.  She was blonde and probably about 27 years old. 

Melissa sat next to me for about 16 months and knew my sense of humor well.  I also knew hers well and it did not surprise me she burst out laughing at the thought.

I also decided I would throw Melissa under the bus just for fun.

The pretty waitress came back to our table.

"I was wondering, are those cacti real?"

"No, they're fake," she answered cheerfully. 

"I was going to say, that would be dangerous."

She took a couple steps over and patted the rubber tips on the plant to show they were not real needles.

"That's a relief."  I pointed to Melissa and said, "She wanted to hit you in the side of the face to see if it was real!"

Melissa  screamed, "What!" while simultaneously laughing.  The waitress burst out laughting as well.

"I never said that," insisted Melissa.  How did she not see me doing this from a mile away?  She sat next to me all those months after all and knows my sense of humor.

The waitress through the laughter assured her, "I, somehow, don't think you were the one that said that."

I sat there afterwards, during the meal, and wondered what would actually enrage someone so much as to pick up a cactus and smack someone with it.

My Mother, The Thief, Part III

It had been a very tough week at work because we had an IT disaster with our production system that forced us onto our disaster recovery [DR] plan.  I was in Saturday morning and afternoon to do some clean up when my coworker, Melissa, also had to stop in to wrap some loose ends from our disaster recovery adventure this week. 

[Side note: EVERYONE, including people with home computers and laptops, should have a disaster recovery plan in place when it comes to EVERYTHING, not just computer technology.]

So we both wrapped up at about 2:00 p.m. and decided to go grab something to eat before she headed home and I went over to my mom's.

Melissa was familiar with the story of my mom and her stealing the condiment dishes from a few weeks ago and as the meal was wrapping up, I noticed I had two of the dipping dishes in front of me.  They had 1000 Island dressing in them.

"If my mom were here," I joked, "She would get a to go box and take these home."

I reached over and grabbed my phone.

"I should take a picture of these and send them to my mom and see if she has these."

I snapped a photo and sent a text.

"Do you already have 2 like these?"

Lunch continued for a few minutes and before I knew it, I received a text back.

"Yes but I could use a back up"

Clearly, she is preparing for some kind of disaster recovery.  That said, Melissa and I both laughed at her response.

A moment later, a second text came through.

"I double dog dare you"

I was double dog dared by my mother, grandmother of five plus three step-grandchildren, to steal the condiment dishes.

Now Melissa was laughing her ass off, also daring me to do it.

I did not steal the dishes. 

When I arrived at her house after lunch she wondered where the dishes were.  I was then chastized by her,"You can't say 'No,' to a 'Double Dog Dare.'"

My Mother, The Thief, Part II

Friday night I had some car trouble. It always sucks having car trouble, but my mom lived only 20 minutes away, so I called her to see if she could help me with her jumper cables.

We could not jump the battery successfully, so while waiting for a tow, we went inside to eat at a local restaurant that I often go to.

She got an individual pizza and I had a sandwich.

Soon thereafter, we got the call the tow truck was 30 minutes out, so we got "To Go" boxes.

"What a shame. You don't have any dipping sauces, so you can't steal the dishes." This is just a couple weeks after the night at the Okolona restaurant when I learned she has a history of taking these particular dishes home.

"I don't know," she says as she picks up the empty plate and puts it on the to go pizza box. "I think this one will fit perfectly in my 'To Go' box."

"That's not funny. Don't you dare!"

Thankfully, she was joking. Her sense of humor is funny.

I wonder if stealing the little dipping dishes is a gateway crime. In a year, will the police will be tasering a 66 year old woman with $100,000 of stolen weapons in the trunk of her Honda Civic?

My Mother, The Thief

Last Friday night, I arranged for a ride from my mom to the airport to get a rental car. I was heading out of town for two Springsteen shows in Philly and I did not want to put the 1600+ miles on my car. So after I get the car, I thought I would take her out to dinner.

We went to a local establishment in Okolona and they were crowded as heck. We ended up right next to the server's station, where the soda machine and the register were. Mom ordered a sampler appetizer for her dinner. It had potato skins, fried cheese wedges and chicken fingers on it. She had also requested BBQ sauce and sour cream. I got the chicken fingers and it tasted great.

We were both unable to finish the meal, so mom asked for a "To Go" box. I let her have my chicken fingers that were left since I was going to leave town for five days.

It was a small box barely able to hold the leftover food. It was made smaller when mom went to put in the actual dishes that had the extra BBQ sauce and sour cream in them.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I am out of sour cream at home and I don't have any BBQ sauce either."

"Mom, you can't take their dishes!"

"Oh they won't miss them. Where do you think I got the ones for the kids to use for their ketchup?"

Suddenly I realized how mom accumulated the 7 or 8 dishes in her cabinet! I would later learn they were quite useful for them to dip their veggies into their ranch dressing.

"MOM!" I could not believe this.

The box would not close, so she asked for a second box.

I could NOT believe this, but she's 65 now and has ceased caring anymore about societal constraints.

The second box arrived.

"Put those in the box," she said.

"They're right behind me. They'll see."

"They're not paying attention," she assured me.

They were literally two feet behind me. I carefully, and as quickly as I could, picked them both up and went to put them in the second box with my left hand, leaving my right hand to close the box quickly.

It was at that moment, she let out a loud squeal that sounded like "WHEEEEEEE!" that resulted in my nearly having a heart attack and throwing the two small condiment dishes to the ceiling.

She started laughing having totally flustered me. She did the squeal simply to #$%^ with me.

I shut the lid and it was almost over.

She told me to throw the napkins on top of the plates so the servers would not notice them missing and we walked out casually, well, she did. I was fast paced, thinking the condiment dish police might get me for aiding and abetting a senior citizen.

I can't believe I helped her take those two dishes.

She still had the BBQ sauce when I was back on Tuesday. And then I saw her entire collection. I wonder if this stack of little dishes is a hint that she is wanting more grandkids dipping carrots into ranch dressing now that the others are getting older?