I'm Not Gonna Lie, I Love Dried Dates

I've loved 'em ever since I was a tyke. It's dried dates and chocolate, standing side by side, rulin' the trail mix kingdom.

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There is a band of dark clouds rolling in which always makes me excited. However, what I am about to post is: best place to take a nap when you finally get your lunch at 2:30 in the afternoon.
And now, ladies and...ladies, I present to you...the upward-looking view from the parking lot picnic table behind Ass. Dentists (as it is often abbreviated on patients' checks). This is the spot where I think about how some people get paid to record the sounds of two birds talking to each other. Then, before that depresses me too much and makes me realize that it is my own damned fault that I don't do that, I precariously arrange myself on the narrow board, balance my cell phone (with genuine vibrating alarm) on my chest, cross my legs one way and my arms the other way, and fall asleep within 1.4 minutes.

I would like to point out that although this can be a really weird job, one of the perks is a building-long window which offers a panoramic view. I have the good fortune of working about 4 blocks from the Mississip and the neighborhood is well-cloaked in trees. Thus I can easily have Calvin-like daydreams about the times when dinasaurs roamed the flood plain, or explorers stood on the bluffs to the north. Rad. I'd send you a picture, but I don't have the photographic skills (or the camera) to make it work. Instead I will post this amusing e-mail I just received from my Sympatio informing me of a soiree at my house this weekend. Please know that you can stay in Ceara's room if you attend and she will happily nest on the loveseat in the "sun room":

FROM NATE:

Ahoy-hoy!
So this Saturday is the Annual Autumn Brew Review in Minneapolis. It's a shit-ton of beer all in one place. Autumn beers...mmm.

But. Big but. Big butt? There be no tickets here. Or anywheres, for that matter. No tickets whatsoever. Plus the ones that there were cost $25-$30 damn dollars. For real. That's just nonsense. So how about this:

I will be hosting the Autumn Brew Review: Location Two at 3333 Emerson Ave S. this Saturday at 8 pm (and you know that time is meaningless to me; that's for the Type As amongst us). The price of admission will be one (1) 6-pack of an Autumn brew and one (1) vinyl record. Uh-buh? Qua? A vinyl record you say? Yes, one vinyl record that we can throw on and crank up. The record should fall into one of 3 categories: Autumn (read: Oktoberfest)-themed, Bizarre & Kitschy, Excellent Album Art, or Just Plain Awesome. Oh snaps...that's four categories. Whoops. Good enough. And your brew. Autumn brews, people. We're looking for beers that are rich in color and put hair on your chest. If you bring something ridiculous like Mich Golden or Miller Lite or, for this one time only, even Coors Light (Banquet is acceptable), you will be denied entrance, sent back to the Booze Store to come up with something suitable. And just so we don't end up with a whole lotta Leinie's Oktoberfest and Summit Oktoberfest, try to avoid those lovelies.

And no whining about having better things to do. I know you.

Tell your friends. But don't invite them. Not really. Unless they're stupid.

nate

PICTURE OF NATE FOR THE UNINITIATED:

This is Nate (and that is Mom whose bones he appears to be crushing). He is sporting the "intimidating mohawk and floating sideburns" combo which he adopted for summer softball tournament. The principal at his school said, "When you have gray hair, you are too old for a mohawk." AAAhahaha...but really you need to see Nate's stunning "Angry Meathead" expression to fully appreciate it.

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AND FINALLY, A BRIEF (BUT GRIPPING) HISTORY OF NATE AND ERIN'S INTERACTIONS:

For the record, the first time Erin ever talked to Nate on the phone, she told him that she frankly didn't care if he died of heart failure.

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Nate is still hurt by this statement. He takes his revenge in small bites, for example, when we shared a tent at the Madson Family Reunion a couple summers ago Nate would wait until it had been quiet for awhile and Erin's breathing started to slow and then...out of the silence....would come a voice...

"I can't believe you wouldn't care if I died of heart failure." This was often followed by a volley that ended in an argument about whether Nate's ability to "cwush cans" would translate into a sure victory over Erin and her karate skills. Sweet. Well, I'm quite sure that's more than enough nonsense for today.

Pictureless Post :(

Well, ladies, what a rip off! Ceara just called. She got the results of her sleep study this morning. Ceara somehow managed to do twice the amount of extra-curriculars that I did in college, log 3 hours of sleep many nights, and graduate with honors (punk). However, when left to her own devices she finds it easy to sleep at LEAST 12 hours (easily 16)

She's pursued some other solutions to this problem with sparse results. So last week they glued a bunch of stuff to her head and monitored her. Today the doc told her that her sleep schedule is laterally skewed--she goes to sleep around 12-2am and wakes up between 12-4pm. "This is not something that you can change, " he said, "It is what it is. Going to bed earlier won't change it, time zones won't make a difference--it'll just slide until it settles in the same spot. I recommend that you not get a job that starts at 9 in the morning. Many people with this problem freelance."

Now, this isn't the worst news for Ceara's future. She would like to pursue her theater professionally so being alert between the hours of 4pm and 2am would actually be an asset. But she doesn't expect to be making a living in that field for several years yet and it could be a bit challenging to find afternoon shift work that will accommodate her disabilities (like the fact that she can't see, like, anything and her Ehlers Danlos totally ruined her career in the steel mill or construction--a real shame, I say, because she could ROCK one of those face masks or a hardhat).

The other kicker is that she's also chronically fatigued (sound familiar to anyone? Andi?) So the guy recommended Ritalin in the morning for its stimulant properties, but Ceara, Mom, and I have some concerns about Ritalin's interactions with the shoebox full of other drugs she's taking. Mostly she's upset because, once again, there's a guy telling her that there's no cure, only treatment for the symptoms of yet another oddball disorder she's got and it's not really connected to anything else.

In brighter news, though, Ceara and I stayed up way too late (for me, I guess it was probably right on time for her) last night discussing her idea for a giant tiki man birthday cake for Nate--this thing sounds like it is going to be Easter Island...only a banana cake. We also got to go to lunch together today. So it was the only bonding we've done in 2 weeks and it was all w/in 24 hrs. See, Erin, I live with Ceara and we still never talk.

Sort of Dumb to Name the Post after a Day When It's a Month Between Posts

Don't worry. We got to and fro Wisconsin just fine. Dave the mechanic said he didn't know what I was talking about, but it was fine to drive. The camping trip was interesting what with nightly Thunderstorms and wacky-loud group man sex in the neighboring site. For these reasons, as well as the hardness of the ground and the thinness of the foam pads, Nate spent much of both nights in the car.

Midway through the next week, when I suggested a visit to "Saraar" and "JJ" and their new puppy, Nate declined. He was too exhausted from the camping trip, he said, to enjoy a commute to Chicago for a weekend of beer-swilling and card-playin'. It wouldn't even have been challenging card-playing since I'm well known as the worst card player. ever.

However, there were also scenic views of the Mississippi from the bluff above Trempaleau Bay and many a circling raptor to be mesmerized by in the hazy afternoon sun. There was also a notable woodchuck sighting as well as a canoe-paddle through the canal around the "bay" which is rapidly filling with sediment. There are pictures of these things, but they are housed on a disposable camera because I forgot mine so look to this post for colorful updates.

Other things that I meant to blog about include this memorable night. Imagine--it's Wednesday, near the Interstate and some tall gov't-subsidized seventies-looking skyscrapers straight out of "The Wiz", generally referred to as "The Crack Stacks". Spokey, I wiki'd it for this fab image (which doesn't really do it justice) but...

It was once my dream to live there. Therefore, whenever I see the many people gathered outside for a pipe or walking to the coffee shop nearby, I think, "Man, they are livin' the dream." And yet...I refuse to wake up and incessantly comment to anyone new to town, or anyone riding in the car with me, "I've always wanted to live there."

But I digress. In the shadow of these multi-colored giants, part of a disparate band of college bars and ethnically oriented-shops, is The Triple Rock, a bar/indie band hotspot. I had never been there. And then, one day, someone [read: Nate] discovered that this mythical place had upped it's magnetism by introducing a happy hour of sorts: FREE BACON NIGHT! We were drawn there like the folks in Field of Dreams to that cornfield in Iowa. We tried to tether ourselves to the real world by telling our friends what was happening to us, but then they too were pulled in by this ridiculous mission!

I fully believe it possible that the photo I am about to post will show up mysterously blacked out, or with key elements missing as with evidence of a UFO sighting, a ghost, or the Loch Ness Monster. But believe me, this is a picture of our docile friend, Adam, turning vicious to defend his TWENTY-EIGHTH piece of bacon. It comes in a basket...or, if you are an idiot like me and order their drink special--the Bacon Mary--it comes in a drink that goes down like tabasco and finishes like a big gulp of liquid Crisco.

And, by the way, this place is tiny! I'm pretty sure that bands have to stand on the pool table to play and the maximum capacity must be, like, 32.

And that, my dear Bru-Dogs and Mad-Dogs, is most of the updating there is for today (we'll cover the rest of August sooner or later). However, because I know how much you all like pictures, and might particularly like to see a picture of someone you know, I leave you with a significant picture of "The Larkelet". This photo is appropriate for today's post because I will be dropping Ceara off at Hennepin County Medical Center later this afternoon for her sleep study.

She has been wearing a bracelet for a couple of weeks that registers her asleep or awakeness (a little black box for the wrist--it's very weird). They told her that they'll keep her overnight and then, if she's interesting enough (I guess), they might keep her tomorrow to watch her nap. This cracks me up because what's really going to happen is that she's gonna settle in at 7 this evening with a good book, stay up until at least 2, and then show them how she can easily sleep until 4 tomorrow afternoon, like this:

So I'm wondering, are they going to wake her up to tell her to keep sleeping? Will they be banging on their equipment wondering if it is registering false vital signs? Will they then rush in to take her pulse to make sure? It is really too bad that I have to leave for Mike's wedding in Chicago before I get to grill her about this.

P.S. This is her new room. She was a refugee in the office/pantry of our duplex for the summer, but then our roommate, Doug, bought a house and now she is sleepin' in STYLE!