unpack me, you will

When I was a child ages ago, I packed away a single box of toys during a family relocation. This single box locked away Star Wars and GI Joe action figures, Legos, alphabet blocks, and some assorted magic trick props. Truth be told, I’ve had this box sealed for so long, I wasn’t really sure what was inside it.

I had lunch today with someone I’ve known since I was probably 8 or 9 years old. He recently joined Facebook and we quickly learned we were both in the same city – and have been for some time, but just didn’t know it. I haven’t seen him since High School and like many friends, had simply lost touch moving around. Speaking to him conjured up thoughts from a really wide range of time and it was fantastic to see him and catch up.

When I got home, my son was quietly playing with the lone action figure he has, a birthday present from a few months ago. My memory still in temporal-aerobics mode, I remembered the box and thought his single action figure would appreciate a few dozen 30-year old buddies. I opened the box.

Tomorrow, my son will have some real collector items, some with Kung-Fu grip, others with elbows and knees that don’t even bend. The Dad I am, I threw away all the guns and knives, not because he doesn’t see it anyway on Ben 10, but basically because I don’t want to puncture my foot stepping through the playroom. Yo Joe? No. Yoda, Joe, Joe, Yoda. And Yoda’s bro, his bro, and his bro.

filed under: ben 10, facebook, star wars

please stop crashing teslas

The Tesla Roadster is a $100,000 electric vehicle in it’s infancy of production. It can accelerate 0 to 60 MPH in 3.9 seconds and can drive 200+ miles on a single charge. It’s a groundbreaking concept and an amazing vehicle. It’s endured a rough ride to finally make it to production, but it seems the ride just won’t smooth out.

As of the time of this writing, there have been up to ten produced, and of those, four crashed. The first two crashes were safety tests, as shown in the video below.

Just a few weeks ago, former Tesla CEO Mark Eberhard’s Roadster (production vehicle #2) was wrecked on Highway 101 in San Francisco by the Tesla employee delivering it to him. This week, a private buyer picked up Tesla production vehicle #6 and promptly smashed it up. It seems rather suspicious.

I don’t think I’ve ever been behind the wheel of a $100,000 vehicle. But if I were to drive one, I’d be pretty careful. I honestly don’t know if I’d be more careful if it was mine or someone else’s. Do the brakes not work properly? Is the dash too shiny? Are the seats too low? Do the driver’s keep checking their hair in the rearview mirror? I have a feeling this story is just starting.

filed under: tesla, vehicle

free wine

The picture pretty much says it all.

filed under: wine

alvin hates duct dape; don’t know much about k

I’m a fan of Xzibit’s show on MTV called “Pimp My Ride.” The angry looking Xzibit takes vehicles from the edge of extinction and works with a body shop to rebuild them from the ground up. The show focuses on the youthful vehicle owners as deserving of the bleeding edge electronics and prizes built into now one-of-a-kind cars.

Anyway, I knew Xzibit wasn’t born named Xzibit. What I didn’t know is his real name is Alvin. He didn’t like Alvin, so he changed it to Xzibit. So what’s in a name?

Recently, 9 year old Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii (who is from New Zealand, not Hawaii) was taken as a ward of the court so the judge could re-name her. Her friends had taken to calling her “K,” which is odd since there isn’t even a K in her name. Apparently, this is not new in New Zealand where they have people named Fish and Chips, Yeah Detroit, Keenan Got Lucy, and Sex Fruit. The AP news story has it all. MOM AND DAD: THANK YOU FOR MY NAME.

filed under: parenting, xzibit

fire in the adjacent neighborhood

This afternoon we heard a number of emergency vehicle sirens. We didn’t know it at the time, but three homes in the neighborhood adjacent to ours were burning. It was a typical Atlanta July day in upper 80s or low 90s, very hot, and very dry.

When we ventured out for dinner, we noticed the air had a burnt wood smell. As we arrived to the front of our neighborhood, we could only turn right out of the neighborhood because a policeman was turning cars away from proceeding any closer to where the fire was.

After dinner, I walked over to explore. There were several pieces of ash in our street roughly the size of a loosely crumpled pieces of notebook paper. The fire rendered two homes unlivable and damaged a third. The rumor, as told to me by a television reporter packing up his gear, is one of the two homes severely damaged – but not the one where the fire seemed to start - was owned by former a Louisiana resident, who moved here shortly after Hurricane Katrina.

I hope our neighborhood will reach out to see if there’s anything we can do to help these families.

filed under: alpharetta

alpharetta fishfest

Today we attended Alpharetta’s 7th Annual Youth Fishing Derby. My son caught four fish; my daughter caught one fish. I caught a glimpse of a bobber in the tree.

The kid next to us must have caught at least fifteen fish. He was a fish magnet; it was surreal. Junior (age seven) kept them on a single string floating at the very edge of the water. He just kept adding to the pile as he caught one fish after another. It’s got to be embarrassing enough for a fish to be caught in a moment of gluttony, but it must really suck to have to hang out in gill-to-gill proximity with a dozen of your idiot peers.

Attempting to understand how Junior was clearly excelling among his peers (as well as the parents of his peers), we spied these folks for a bit. We pretty much figured we were looking at the next Aquaman convincing fish to join him, but then we noticed him dripping some liquid onto the bait he was using. Suddenly, it dawned on me. I believe Junior visited this pond for several days leading up to the event, lacing the place with an energy drink such as Red Bull. Once addicted, these little fish basically jumped at the mere scent of the stuff, landing in the City’s record books as Junior almost certainly broke all of the fishfest’s volume-based statistics.

I plan to avoid this pond for the next several weeks to steer clear of any withdrawal-driven catfish and / or possible rise of a caffeine-fix-seeking Swampthing.

filed under: alpharetta

live music friday dinner

I don’t think I’ve ever seen my son’s eyes light up as much as tonight when the guitar playing Chad Bowmar took the corner of La Parilla to serenade the restaurant.

When we arrived, we were seated in a nearly empty restaurant. The tables around us filled up pretty quickly and shortly thereafter, Chad arrived with his equipment. He set up right next to our table.

We coaxed him into playing Just Like Heaven (The Cure), The One I Love (R.E.M.), and Fast Car (Tracy Chapman). My daughter bobbed her head in approval through each song, swinging her hair all around. We’ve not had them around much live music; the R.E.M. concert in June was really the first time, and we were a good distance away from the stage. It seems we need to start looking for more live music.

filed under: alpharetta, r.e.m.

the guinea pig, our honored guest

We’re watching our neighbor’s guinea pig for a few weeks while they’re out of town. I always thought guinea pigs liked new things. That’s why the expression goes something like “our guinea pig is testing our new [insert item here].” Either the colloquialism is wrong, or this guinea pig is broken. He doesn’t like to come out of his cage. He doesn’t like our organic carrots. He doesn’t like to watch Deadliest Catch in HD. There’s just no capturing his interest.

filed under: guinea pig

graceland in memphis tennessee

Graceland is a fascinating insight into a fascinating man. I’m on a business trip in Memphis, TN this week and our meeting included an end-of-day trek to the home of the King of Rock and Roll.

Elvis’ home is modest to say the least. It’s called the Graceland Mansion. In my head, I pictured immense scale, with columns outside, cavernous spaces inside, and the sorts of lavish self-indulgence you see celebrities invoke upon themselves today. That’s the not the case at Graceland. This was clearly a home first, retreat second, and not at all a palace of self-gratification.

Because he hasn’t really lived there for 30+ years, it’s impossible to know if the impersonal and meticulous appearance is truly a reflection of him, or perhaps how others would like him to be remembered.

The name in lights appears across the street where tours begin and end. But the flash and bling is a far cry from Graceland itself. Inside the residence, there are typical 1970’s color schemes, right along with typical 1970’s decor. Stepping inside is like a time warp back to my childhood. But it’s more than that. It’s really a home like any other from the period. The pool in the back yard is no larger than an average swimming pool of today. The only out-of-place spot on the property was the racquetball ball court which now hosts 20 foot walls of Gold Records, awards, and other memorabilia.

In the Living Room, peacocks adorn stained glass in a room of white carpet. There’s glass everywhere. The room doesn’t scream kid friendly, but it does speak to the formal nature of a classic Southern sitting room. The other parts of the home offer different moods for each room.

The Kitchen is quite the opposite from the Living Room. Dark carpeting resides under goldenrod appliances and linoleum countertops. Described on the tour as “a place which served as the social center of the home,” it seems like any other 1970’s house from the time, albeit suddenly frozen in time. I was beginning to think Elvis himself was very much like a movie. I have to wonder if he an ordinary man, dealing with the extraordinary circumstances of incredible fame.

The Home Theater tells a bit of a different story, but not really unexpected. The Hi-Fi-Buys-inspired color scheme hosts three televisions side by side. Rumor has it Elvis watched all three TVs simultaneously – and this in a time when there were only three channels. My bet is NBC was his favorite. Carson rolls on the middle set, and I bet the peacocks from the Living Room sneak down to watch when no one’s looking.

filed under: elvis presley, graceland, memphis

leaping

I finally decided to create a blog. I’ve even decided to join Twitter. Now anyone call follow the mundane aspects of my day to day ramblings. I’m not sure anyone will want to, but I’ll try to be entertaining.

filed under: blog, twitter