We Have Had Our Summer Evenings, Now for October Eves!

The change of the seasons: It's the one thing that people who move away from this part of the country say that they miss. But as my friend Janine pointed out, it's mostly autumn that they miss. It is hands-down my favorite season. Autumn to me is brisk mornings with dew on the grass, clear blue skies, leaves changing color and clean air. It's a light jacket and the nice walk down by the water. It's poems by Dickinson, Keats or Thoreau. It's apple picking, cider donuts and pies. It's sitting in the living room reading a book with a fire going. It is glorious and it should last from mid-September to mid-November.

This year? Yea, this morning it was 58 degrees downstairs in the house. It was 61 upstairs. Fuck that shit. Last night I closed the storm windows in the dining room and some of them upstairs but there are still some open. I had a fire blazing last night so it was at least comfortable downstairs. But this morning when we got up we had to turn the heat on earlier than we have ever had to in the past (or at least earlier than I can remember us doing). Granted I only had the thing come on to 63 degrees but that took the chill out of the air and made getting ready for work more bearable. Tonight we'll close up the rest of the house and hopefully we won't need to have the heat on at all. Usually, since I'm a stingy cunt I like to try to wait until the first of November before turning on the heat. I think I've been able to do that maybe 3 or 4 times since we've lived in that house.

Autumn also means that winter is fast approaching and with that so is my birthday. I'm turning 40 goddamn years old in January. Holy piss. Now I know that people say that "Forty is the new thirty!". Mmm-hmm. You know who says that? Old people, that's who. Forty is forty and that's that. Luckily for my mindset I'm really only as mature as a 15-year-old so I've got that going for me. I'm not one for harping on age normally but this one has me kind of off balance. I guess I just never really thought about getting older and being a 40 year old guy. Yea, yea, stop saying "but it's not really old". I know this. But it's older than I ever really thought I'd be. Not that I'm saying I thought about dying or anything like that, but since I'm not really a well-thought out guy, I just didn't allow myself to think or plan about what I would want/need at this age. Or in the future for that matter. Plus, my own immediate family history doesn't bode well for getting older as both my parents died at a young age, Mom at 58 and Dad at 61.

So what does that mean? I dunno. Thinking about this kind of stuff is new territory for me. I have a pretty good life overall (great marriage, fantastic friends and family, decent job and a house that is still standing) and for the first time in a while the future is looking pretty stable. I say this with trepidation because although I don't believe in much, I do believe in "jinxing" things. Plus, the economy and my own checkered past tell me that there is always the possibility of losing my job and then at least one aspect of my life will suffer. But I've made it through that stuff before so it doesn't worry me as much as it used to. The Wiff and I decided years ago to not have kids and I am still fully on board with that decision. I think it was the right one for us and will continue to be so. That being said, I think there is room for a change soon. Ha, no, not on the "no kids" front. I'm talking about living where we live. Having no kids makes this decision easier to execute.

Ever since I was 10 years old or so I've wanted to live in Maine. Why Maine? Well, because it isn't Massachusetts (anymore). Real estate in Maine, in comparison with what I'm used to here, is affordable. The biggest issue of course is looking for work. Finding a place to live with a decent mortgage is a pretty large problem too. I've been looking at places near the Augusta area and the prices are reasonable. I would like this to happen within the next 3 years. "But Mark, you're a city boy. You've never lived outside of city in anything even remotely rural. Won't you go sort of stir crazy?" I dunno. I don't think so. I have less inclination to go out to clubs to watch a band play like I used to (I still do it on occasion but just not EVERY weekend like before) so I don't feel like that'll be a huge issue. Plus, keep in mind the fact that I really, honestly do not like people and places where there are ... people. The occasional night out with me has usually turned into me hating on those around me and the Wiff annoyed at how intolerant I can be. So maybe living in a less crowded area is exactly what the doctor ordered.

But whatever does happen it'll be ok. For reals. I'm less of a worry-wart than I used to be. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a mess but less so. Plus, I'm looking forward to the trip to Ireland the Wiff and I are taking for my b-day. We're going to Dublin, then down to Cork, Kinsale, and swing up the west coast to Galway. I can't wait. We went to the west coast of Ireland a few years back on a bus tour with a bunch of people but this time it'll just be the two of us and a little rental car. Maybe we'll move there instead....hmmmm.

I Don't Care About My Birthday

I turned 39 recently and while that's not a terrible thing it certainly isn't something that I think needs to be celebrated either. I think that 39 is just a boring number and I'd much rather have a big to-do for my 40th next year. As I sit here teetering on the edge of my 40's I am just amazed at how many people were surprised when they asked me what I did for my birthday and my response was "Nothing". Actually that's not entirely true. I shovelled. And I actually paid two teenage hooligans to shovel for me. They did a kick-ass job (as if I had raised them myself) and only wanted $10 to do the work. I gave them $20 cuz I'm a frickin' philanthropist. But honestly, to paraphrase Patton Oswalt, it is ridiculous to give a shit about this birthday. I just wish the people I work with had gotten this message.

See, I've actually created my own monster. There was this dude Andy that worked here and he made the mistake of telling me that he ABSOLUTELY did not want anyone to know about his birthday. But I found out what day it was and since I'm a dickhead I planned a whole thing designed to embarrass and irritate him. It worked wonderfully. However I hadn't thought that maybe he'd get his own revenge when my birthday rolled around. Oh crap. It was awful and even more elaborate and embarrassing. Then Andy got a job somewhere else so I figured the bullshit with the birthdays would leave with him. Nope. Now, today is January what? 14th? My birthday was 3 frickin' days ago and on a Sunday to boot. When I came in on Monday I was confronted with this spectacle:

(forgive the shitty quality but all I had was my cell phone)

That's Sad Sam sitting on my keyboard

Funny enough right? I mean I had to do some manuevering to actually get INTO my cube and it certainly looked like it took them a lot of time to fuck up decorate my cube. So fair enough, you got me. Let's leave it at that ok? Nope. Cue all the nozzles who came by during the day to first gawk at the mess decorations then ask me if it was my birthday. Did you know that sarcasm is lost on most people? Well, it totally is.

But I endured this and slowly removed most of the stuff by the end of Monday. Yesterday my head felt like it was trying to birth Mothra so I stayed home. Today being now several days AFTER my birthday I figured it was over and we could all move on. Nope. The peeps in my group tricked me into a surprise cake thing. I hesitate to call it a party because I generally associate parties with things that are fun and not awkward and ill advised. Luckily the cake was awesome (hooray Lyndell's!!). Look, I don't want to sound like a grumpy old grouch but fucking hell people THAT'S WHAT I AM! So blah blah blah it was a nice gesture and I appreciate it but please cut it out. Seriously.