who is craig anyway? and why should i care about his list

sometimes things are less annoying when you are tired and sore. other times things are more so. today was a more. then again if it wasn't that then it would be something else.

my life (including my wonderful wife) and work bring me joy these days. i heard that erin reilly is alive, but haven't mulled myself into doing something about it.

if you keep checking i will post pictures of the house we are working on. i even have them already. only they are on the computer downstairs, and i am upstairs.

let me know if there is anything i can do to make you laugh, encourage you, or spice up your life a little. i promise to do what i can.

love,
me


p.s. know anyone that wants to buy a 2005 honda civic?

Two and Yet not One

So I got a new job. As of two weeks ago I am working with Clide Parker. He is the pastor of the Quaker church down the street who also happens to be a general conrtractor two + days a week (also the leader of the mexico trip). He recently took on a full house construction with his son and was looking for some help. After considering the fact that the pay is better, the hours more regular and all around more pleasant working environment I decided to take him up on it.

So far the house looks something like this (i will get some real pictures soon):



But setting those 1000lb trusses on Friday it felt a lot more like this:



So now, for those of you keeping track, please add these to the tools regularly used:



Framing Air Nail Gun: Shoots up to 3.5" nails into solid wood. So you know as well as I do that it would easily go through anywhere I might hit on myself, and while Chad put one into his calf a year ago I have done nothing of the sort. Essencial for those engineered walls where we need nails every 2" on the edges of the sheeting (dang engineers. what are they good for anyway?).



Skill Saw: a.k.a. wood cutter. Does a good clean job on osb and the like. While it is harder to keep straight than a table saw it is much more portable (side note this tool continues to scare me everytime i use it)




Hammer: yes it helps put in nails. Yes, this brand was formerly named the "Death Stick". Not sure why that name didn't stick. They say it is a collectors item. Note to self: learn to use the nail gun better so that you don't spend so much time with this tool pulling set nails back out.



Tape measure: yep, you measure stuff and unlike plumbers (who generally go to the 1/4") i had to learn to use the little little lines between the big numbers. Never actually knew what those things were for.

General notes to self:
get a lot stronger: that osb is not going to get any lighter and the nail gun gets heavier as the day goes on and I have to be able to keep up
catch onto the lingo: double header?? triple truss?? balooned walls?? sandwitched walls ?? blueprints?? Someday I hope to know what they are talking about.
sustainability: figure out how to make myself essential to the crew so that I still have a job after the house is finished.

Comments and advice will be taken as it comes and filed accordingly.

monday, monday, monday

Yesterday I found a picture of Shane in one of my dress shirt pockets. Since, I have missed Grinnell all over again. Oh Grinnell, you were such a delight. If any of you know about the theatre give a quick little update and let me know how things are looking over there.



transition into random fun facts to avoid blubbering and whining


favorite childhood toy: legos (specifically the castle set)

favorite toy my brother and i talked my parents into buying us: those worthless plastic claws that you could pick toys up with or pinch your siblings

favorite thing to do as a child: play baseball with my brother and neighbors in the empty lot next to our house

thing i miss the most today from my childhood: eating dinner with the whole family

fade away

I am still trying to work out the logic of living with people. You know, commune style (a.k.a. the houston compound). It is not like this is the first time I have lived with other people, Dordt gave me my intro to that. It was at Dordt that we discovered the roommate elimination rule (i.e. if you ask Justin if he had left the remote in the refrigerator, and he didn't then if must have been Joel. So regardless of who did it you still only need to ask one person. This only works when three of you are living together.). And of course the study of the ratio of time spent with the water closet and the corresponding time that should be allowed to pass before you allow it to be used again. This ratio is, of course, exponential.

Brielle and I have spent all of today working on the house in preparation for our guests tomorrow evening. There is a high school choir singing at the church and a few of them are sleeping here. When I saw the announcement in the church bulletin it made me remember the cool host on Dordt choir tour as well as the not so cool hosts. I don't know where we will fall on that scale but I was banking that we would score in the fair to middling range and so figured we should go for it, for the sake of the children. I will do my best that you get word of how it goes.

In the sake of being fair I should mention that we are also working on putting together some raised garden beds in the back yard. We have made it quite far on only recycled materials and, to boot, it looks cool.

But back to the commune math. It often seems that there should be less work and clean-up when sharing a space, but never does it ever come out that way for me. It always adds up to more. I do love a clean kitchen/house and as such often find myself working to keep it that way. It is hard in a shared environment to not allow yourself to feel like everything you do around the house is a favor to the others. In reality it is just part of living.

So here I sit. Glaring at and silently judging the few dishes left on the counter. Focus Matt. Breath. I am the zen center of the universe. I am calm as a Hindu cow. I am Phillip Glass. I am metamorphosis one, two, three, and four, but not five.

A glisten in the sun

Today I had a vivid memory of fishing with my dad. I pictured that moment when the fish you have hooked is right near the surface and you can see its scales glisten in the sun for an instant before it plunges back down refusing to surface. I remember seeing them swim sideways and even spiting out their stomaches to try and free themselves. I remember seeing them open and close their mouths as I stared at them face to face.

I don't remember ever wondering what such an experience might be like: being pulled out of where you have always existed. Normaly only leaving the water for an instant here or there because you see a tastey morsel just on the other side of the surface, but quickly returning. Then one day you are cruising around like normal, doing your thing, and you realize there is a line ever go gently (or not so gently) pulling you around. The panic doesn't set in right away. It sets in when you realize that this line is taking you out of the water where you might be held up next to someones face as you suck at the air to no avail. Where you cannot possilbly survive. Soon to die of suffocation and be left in the sun to rot.

Maybe the experience is nothing like this. Maybe it is all just a mindless responce to being pulled in a direction. I wonder if they do feel for their life as they feel a pierce through their lip and this all begins. I wonder if they would feel the same if the lake was polluted and on fire.

As I sit and wonder what it might be like I can't help but think that I feel like that about God from time to time. Even a little right now.

Power Tool Usage of the Week

Chipping Hammer (a.k.a. hand held jack hammer) (Note to self: learn to close mouth while using.)



Hole Hog (drill on steroids) (Note to self: remember that this drill can take your arm off if it hits a knot or nail or just feels like stoping while you are pushing it through a mounted 2*6, unless you are lucky enough to have a wall nearby in which case it will just smash the life out of your finger.



Sawzall (a.k.a. Reciprocating Saw) (Note to self: good for sawing through ABS pipe, drywall, 2*4s, stuck screws and nails, and pretty much anything else you can find on the job site. Is also useful for enlarging holes that were drilled too small or a little off center)


Power Drain Snake (Note to self: don't drink the standing bath water you find in the drain, try not to touch the black slime covering the tool as you retreve it, keep puke bucket handy because you never know what you are going to find down there, oh and never eat with your bare hands again, ever.)



Flashlight (note to self: not as convenient as a head lamp but sheds more light. Very important for those 50 foot craws under houses (to be read "over the river and through the insulation/dead mice/not so dead mice/dust") out here on the west coast. Also, revive the "Dont You Know What A Basement Is" campainge to educate the people out here)


Nothing all too scary this week but next week I will be working with a 45 year old Frenchman who grew up in England. Yes, he is cool. Yes, he says the 'F word' and 'bloody'. Yes, he loves his wife (a.k.a. 'babe'). Please feel free to direct any questions about plumbing or the Frenchman in my general direction and I will be answering those questions in good time.

P.S. Adam, I had expected you to show up at our front door by now. Am hoping that you are still alive.

Oh, to be young again

Packed and ready to go. We leave in the morning.

I had a lie down chat with Jackie tonight (she doesn't pay much as good of attention if we are sitting up) trying to calm her down. She is convinced that she is old enough to be home alone and take care of herself. And while I tried to convice her that Ashley is mostly watching over the house, I had to break it to her that she still has some things to learn. Like: pooping in the corner even once in a while is not ok (don't tell her I told you about that, she will be upset with me if she finds out; thankfully her reading lessons are still very slow in coming), and that kleenexes are not for chewing and tearing into smaller and smaller pieces, especially used ones. After mentioning that, and abiding a few promises on her part that those things wont happen again if I left her alone, I finally conviced her that if I put out all of the wonderful food mom made for her most of it would surely spoil before we got back, and she would have to go hungry. So Ashley needs to be her at least to feed her, and while she's her they might as well hang out. I am glad that is settled. (thanks ashley).

I will see my wife in a few days. I will have to appologize for our phone conversation the other day. Brielle got some gloves from another person on the prep team that she was excited about. While she was exclaiming her love of these new gloves to me over the phone, I realized that they were the same kind I reccomended we pick up for her before she go. So instead of sharing in her new found joy I playfully scolded her for not believing me that they would be good to have and unintentionally killed the joy in her voice over the gloves. Oh, the many things to learn about being a husband.

I hope this trip doesn't kill my rekindled joy of blogging and reading blogs. Please pray for the team. I understand there are almost 100 people going. Pray that we love one another and show love to those around us in the village.

Talk to you when I get back.

When i was young, It seemed that life was so wonderful

Living the life of a plumber has been about what I expected. I have gained a decent amount of strength as well as many hours of experience on tools ranging from a sawsall to a jack hammer. I have stood to my ankles in raw sewage and balanced on the beams of a house frame. All in a days work I say, but you are more than likely to find me changing a water heater out or repairing a broken/clogged drain.

My love is gone these days. She has left with the prep team for the mexico trip we will all be leaving for Thursday morning. I would say my bed is cold at night without her, but I do have jackie who seems to know that she is allowed to sleep on the bed while Brielle is away.

I have strayed from the blogging world over the last few months. As I read the posts of my friends it makes me miss them. If you all, or maybe just some of you, are reading this from time to time I say hello to you.

I won't promise to fill you all in on the great stories that you missed not being here although I have partially composed a few of these mentally with the follow titles: "So were you in the shit? Yeah, I was in the shit", "Jackys 'Outdoor' Habits", and "First hand witness to an 80 year old woman all but being run over by her own car while we push it to the side of the road and literally dragging her by her trouser leg and shirt to kept her legs away from the tire since she refused to let go and roll."

Stop and listen to a good song tonight. If you need any suggestions just let me know. And if you are feeling sorry for yourself tonight stop and say a prayer for Adam, Laura and the rest of the world.

Now watch what you say or they´ll be calling you a radical a liberal, oh fanatical, criminal. Oh won´t you sign up your name we´d like to feel you´re acceptable, respectable, oh presentable, a vegetable!

a working man

For the tenth weekday in a row I am up before 6:20 a.m. I realize that there are many of you out there that do and have done the same for year, but give me a break and allow me to relax for a second in this accomplishment. Also, part of me felt like you all were a myth until now, existing only in the minds of the fool hardy and gulible.

I must say that while getting up before the sun has some significant drawbacks it does allow 8 hours to be put in before 330, and this has allowed me a good amount of time to work on the house. The upstairs is almost finished and it really is beginning to feel like home.

My job allows me to work closely with Steven (Brielle's oldest brother) who is very gracous and has a good gift for teaching. I have not yet applied for an apprentiship but will explain that technicality at another time. Steven's boss, and in that way mine also, is Ralph. I like Ralph. He seems to be a good hearted guy who likes to joke around a little and who talks with great joy about his kids from time to time.

I have to yet to encounter any bleeding or angry customers but there is one small ancedote. There is a job site that we just finished the underfloor on yesterday. Right next to this restaurant/coin machine place is a house. An old man lives at this house. This man gets up between 9 and 1030 am walks outside his door, gets into his 1984 blue chevy, closes the door, and sits there. Just sits there. Our site faced his drivers door so we could see him fairly well. He never really watched us, in fact he never even looked our way. Occationally he gets out and walks around the yard a little, only to return back to the truck within 15 minutes. He would just sit there and sort of stare forward. His record is just over 3 hours without getting out. I asked Steven if he could imagine a life like that. He said he could, in fact he said that it was his life goal and dream.

Gotta go, gonna go and sit in my car in the driveway for a little while.

portland is very pleasant

i am still awe struck and joyous about the wedding.

so many amazing things were done for us for the wedding that pondering it for only an instant is very humbling, and any longer prompts a tear.

brielle and i are spending this week in portland.


best quotes of the week:
"so i was in the marines for a while. . . that was a good time" -ian
"you made me blush" -seth
"so, yeah we missed the wine tasting" -matt
"no, i refuse to do that" -brielle referring to drinking our first toast with our arms entwined.


things that are missing since the move:
-quackbert
-the mp3 cd that galon gave to me (this may in fact be in grinnell still)
. . . to be continued


p.s. i find myself bordering on cliché these days and it may continue for sometime. i cannot say for sure how long. as a consolation i do have permission from a good friend adam (currently in Bangladesh) who may be the only person on the earth who hates clichés more that brielle and i.

i am not a witch!

Well, many many people told me that it rains in oregon and well. . . they were right.

top five panic moments of the last three weeks:

5. brielle realizing that during our first 3 minutes of driving in portland we managed to be flipped off twice
4. putting the 27 part faucet (for the amazing claw foot tub that steven bought for our bathroom) together for the 4th time to find that it leaks in 5 places; a.k.a. one more place than after the 3rd time i put it together
3. "yeah, you are not going to be able to have a reception at the church any more. sorry about that"
2. 20 miles to the next gas station and potentially enough gas for only 3 miles
1. the said gas station, when we miraculously made it, said "testical festival" in large letters on the sign, with a picture of a bull with his back legs crossed and a scared look on his face

top five celebratory moments of the last three weeks:
5. finding a group of people to play settlers of catan with within one day of being in eugene.
4. buying a table and chairs at pier 1 for 55% of the cost after some steven inspired bartering
3. playing multi-player halo for a while and realizing that i have not lost all of my charm
2. getting a phone call from a favored employee in grinnell to tell me that the theatre burned down during the first 3 minutes of my absence. "It was like the forth of july!!"
1. turning my new shower on after steven removed the flow restrictor and being thrown backward onto my rear.


more to come. there is much going on over here. i will try to get writing again.

the world is spinning

I met with my theatre staff last night. We had the obligatory "I couldn't have done this with out you/things are going to change with the new manager" meeting. I say that tongue in cheek now but it is true. My staff made it fun to come into work. Last night was the first time I really felt how much I am going to miss this place and these people. I don’t know how much things are going to change with the new manager but I made some guesses and tried to prepare them a little. Adrian asked me how much time I think she will need to get the hang of things (her move in date has moved again as her apartment will not be available yet, and now we have a grand total of 2 days of overlap, before I am on my way to Oregon) and I was tempted to say “well, if you really want to be prepared to run the theatre where it is now I would recommend being here since last December,” but I didn’t. She will do fine and in good time I think she may even do well.

Tonight is the last volleyball game of the regular season. It should be a good match, but I do not expect to lose more than 1 game out of the 3. We have been really solid the second half of this season. I doubt I will ever find a group of people as fun as this to play volleyball with. I will seek out some prospects in Eugene none the less.

Party in Grinnell this week if you have not heard. Brielle (a.k.a. the love of my life), Sarah (a.k.a. my favorite sister), Katy, Ross, Reid, and a handful of others are coming to visit. If you are still trying to decided whether to come, the weekend is likely to include: darts, good food, a private showing of Chronicles of Narnia, some good beer, general chill time in my apartment (I promise to turn the heat on), and a free concert at Grinnell College on Saturday night featuring Hockey Night and Anueretical. I have not heard of either band but historically Grinnell College has an amazing track record of finding good bands early in their career.

7 more days till i move.
31 till i marry.
my life is already not the same.

aquired

Dear Budweiser,

I am sorry that you make such a crappy beer.

love,
matt


P.S. I realize it is not your fault that so many people drink it.

*

I just shoveled for the first time this season. I am glad that it waited this long. To tell you the truth it wasn't even that bad even though there was a good 3 inches of the white stuff and it is the middle of the night.

I just rechecked all of you blogs and there have been no new posts since I checked them 3 hours ago. I am not insinuating that you all are slackers, I just wanted you to know that I noticed.

normal

I have lapsed back into video games this week. First it was the original Halo. I played through on "Legendary" as far as I could get. Then went out to rent Halo 2 but came home with Castlevania instead. I seem to remember a whip and cave bats from the original Castlevania for the 8-bit, but not much more than that. The new one has neither whips nor bats but is fairly entertaining.

I also rented "You, Me, and Everyone We Know". I am currently half way through. It feels like a very honest story. I like that, even if moments of it are slightly disturbing (maybe unsettling would be a more accurate description).

I am leaving Grinnell in 16 days.

I am getting married in 39.

Today I had pizza and milk for breakfast. My life will never be the same.

dreams are almost constant these days

I have been seeing the future since I was eleven. It is not as scary as you might think. I first noticed it with my brother; he was nine at the time. Coming out of a bowling alley with him and my dad I saw him lose his footing on some gravel and could hear one of his ankle bones break, then he was sitting on a medical table with a cast up to his knee, and then playing soccer for the high school team six years later. Back at the bowling alley he yelled out “shotgun” and sprinted for the van, I chased after him catching up just as he slipped rounding the corner of the van. I could hear the bone snap.

Ever since that moment I have never been anxious of anything.

The first time I saw someone’s death before it happened it didn’t seem any different than knowing my dad was going to come in the front door, instead of the back, when he got home from work today. By this point I had realized that everything was exactly as it should be; that everything that happens was meant to happen.

I have seen hundreds of thousands of moments in people’s lives since I was eleven. Some of them were done in love, others in hate, but for the most part they were just done.

Three days ago I was waiting to cross Third St. where it intersects Main and I took note of the man next to me. I saw him crossing Third Street, kissing his wife as he entered his house, and eating dinner with his family. The food smelled wonderful. The light turned green and I stepped out to cross. I glanced right, but the man was gone.

Turning around I saw the man walking back the other direction. I still saw him, I saw his wife, and I saw him eating dinner, but now I saw him crossing Park Street, instead of Third, to get over to Summer. They had never changed before. In fourteen years they had never changed.

I have never been so scared in my entire life. I have not moved a muscle in my body since. It has been three days.

mother . . . this is a . . .

Closing the theatre tonight I walked across the street laden with four plates of food, thanks to the Kesslers who work for me at the theatre (this surprise made what had turned out to be a very decent Thanksgiving into a good one). I was exhausted. Between Wednesday and today I had worked a total of 26 hours and was looking at another 16 the next day. Realizing I had left my car parked on the street, and wanting to avoid a parking ticket, I set the food down on the countertop, turned the heat up 10 degrees to 65, and left to move my car. Pulling up out back I locked my car and approached the back door patting my pockets for the keys. Hmmmm. Not in my pant or coat pockets. I know I had them because I used them to get in the front door with the food. . . . Nope, definitely left them in the house, must have set them down on the counter with the food.




Not even trying the back door I walked around the block (yes it is still under 20 degrees and very windy) based on the sole fact that I do not remember hearing the door click shut behind me (and with the blanket tucked under the door to stop drafts it does happen on occasion). Reaching the front door I grasp the handle and pull firmly. Nothing. I repeat this pull approximately 11 time rapidly, each time a little harder with a growing growl deep in my throat. After essentially pulling off the front door handle (I’ll have Fred take it out of my deposit), I trudged back around the block to the back door. What had been an insignificant chance that I had not locked the back door was now all I had. Only gave the back door two hard tugs as it moved even less. I pause to consider my options:

Calling Fred to open the door for me
Sleeping in my car
Sleeping in the theatre
Sleeping on a friends couch
Never sleeping or being warm again in my entire life

Considering the fact that it was currently 1:03 AM, approximately 20 degrees and dropping, and that the Kesslers were still cleaning the theatre and I didn’t feel like explaining to them that their now “demon” food had gotten me to lock my keys inside my now warm house, I skipped to option 4.

Having no luck at Evan and Cassandra’s apartment I proceeded to check the only open bar downtown to see if I could find Adam. I attracted a number of strange stares but considering the fact that I was still in my shirt and tie and fuming about the fact that my heat was to be enjoyed by no one that night, and that I would still have to pay for it, I can understand why. Not finding him there I headed back down the block toward my apartment.

At this point my mind lapses back into figuring out how to get into my apartment. This was the highest I had turned the heat all winter and after exhausting my other immediate options I wanted to get back in. With the front and back doors out of commission that only leaves the elevator and the elevator shaft. The elevator could only be reached by Jimbo, who owns and operates the bar in the basement of my building, and as he was closed for Thanksgiving and also did not have a phone that I knew of, that option was also out leaving me with the elevator shaft on the roof of my building.

I started by stacking two pallets up against the side of the building two down from mine. Using them as a ladder I was able to grab the edge of the roof and pull myself up. One floor down and one to go. The attached building between this one and mine was about 8 feet up at the lowest point. Jumping up I grabbed the roofline and attempted to pull myself up again, but to no avail. At this point I silently cursed the third plate of food that I filled for Thanksgiving dinner. I jumped up again and while I had even less strength to lift I noticed an electric box off to my right that gave my legs just enough leverage to lift myself up. The 5 foot difference between this building and my own was a piece of cake and I approached the elevator shaft.

I had been on the roof a number of times before but this would be different. The doors between my apartment and the elevator shaft are the kind that lift up as the elevator rises, three long wooden panels. Typically I would lift the top two panels and prop them up with a scrap piece of metal. With those two panels taken care of I would step on the bottom one making it easier to climb onto the ladder which was mounted to the elevator shaft wall. Without this bottom panel (approx. 20 inches high) it was nearly impossible to scale the ladder as the first ladder rung was level with my upper chest. So here I am at the top, with the elevator inconveniently yet predictably stored at the main level, and the doors to my upper floor heavily closed.

As I leaned over the black abyss I could feel the heat rising from my apartment and my second wind rushed in. With my flashlight between my teeth I grabbed the ladder and swung out over the shaft. Don’t worry Matt it is only a mere 30 feet to the bottom of the elevator shaft, high chance of severe injury but very low chance of death.



I climbed down to the last rung and looked over at the door. As it seemed I needed to be even lower to reach the top section of the door I bent down and wrapped my right arm around the second to last rung and slowly lowered my dangling legs toward the door. My left foot easily reached the top section of the door but was not long enough to reach the middle one. This was not a huge disappointment as I had already decided that I would not be strong enough to get both of the panels up. I settled on the top one and hooked my toe under the edge. I was able to lift it approximately 5 inches before it slipped off my toe but I was not fast enough to get my entire foot between it and the board below it. After two more tries I got my foot in, lift it with my ankle just far enough to get my calf in and repeat the process for my thigh and hip. Resting some of my weight on the elevator door, I used my left arm to push up the top board. Deciding that I had enough space I pushed off of the ladder with my right arm and tucked and rolled through the opening. Crashing to the floor the top panel dropped shut behind me to make a picture perfect Indiana Jones escape.

Of course at this point I am sweating and so I proceed to turn the heat back down to 55 and head to bed. But not before polishing off one of the four plates of food that the Kesslers sent me home with.

working thanksgiving

For most the day it did not feel like Thanksgiving. It may have been the absence of family but I think it may have been a little more allusive than that. I came to work early and treated the crowds with papcorn and holiday movies. They were fairly large crowds. It was clear that many of them were from out of town. In part because of the surprise at the $4 matinee tickets (as opposed to $12) but more directly because I heard at least 3 foreign languages (some kind of Arabic, Russian, and even some French), I guess with the diverse faculty that they have at Grinnell College comes even more diverse relatives.

After the 4 o’clock shows began, I bundled up and trudged across town (trudged is a slight exaggeration as we did not have any snow, but it was 20 degrees and very windy so I feel like it is justified). Two blocks away lives a nice man Kamal and his family. Kamal runs the best restaurant in town called the Phoenix and used to be my neighbor. I happened to run into him a week back and he had invited me over for some food, telling me they would be at the restaurant at not at their home, and that I should be there.

Entering the restaurant there was no one in sight but it did smell wonderful. As I came through the door they came into view carrying a tray of wine glasses (one kind for white wines and one kind for red) and a tub of ice holding the white wines, deep in a hearty conversation. They paused just long enough to pull me into the house (the restaurant is in a converted house) with a warm “come in. come in.” I fielded a few questions about where Brielle was and what my family what up to this Thanksgiving (it was ever so nice to have someone other than myself miss the presence of my fiancé) before they disappeared back into the kitchen. Just then a random uncle appeared and sat at the piano playing random tunes (he reminded me of a skinny Tom Waits who had never smoked). As I wandered in circles through the empty dining area I realized that this was not the intimate family affair that I had imagined. I counted 42 place settings.

I wandered into the kitchen in time to see Kamal and his brother cutting the turkey., well three turkeys to be specific, and setting out huge containers of beats, mashed potatoes, stuffing, steamed vegetables, and some kind of confetti colored cranberry dish. Snapping out of my food induced trance I noticed a small stream of people flowing through the front door carrying countless pies and whipped topping in a metal mixing bowl.

With conversation swilling all around me I began to feel out of place. It was nice to see their family interacting but this was not my family and these were not my conversations. Two aunts near my right were exchanging stories about their children and their respective grade schools both talking as though their children were not silently standing half behind each leg, I listened intently and not seeing a comfortable moment to join the conversation (for although I was wearing a shirt and tie at the time, I have cleaned up my share of baby vomit and dirty diapers) I turned around for my tenth trip around the empty dining area. For a moment I conceded that this was the most it would feel like Thanksgiving today and headed for my coat. It was the food that stopped me just short of the front door. Since this was technically my dinner break I decided that I should at least stay long enough to get a bite to eat.

Trying not to trip over the small children running around I filled my plate to the edges and sat down at the first big table. It only took about two minutes for me to realize that I had inadvertently picked the kids table. I racked my brain for good starter questions but only came up with the usual “Where are you from? How long are you staying? So you are all cousins or what?” Yeah, terrible I know. After the third awkward silence I began plotting my escape. For some reason I was sure they were having more fun at the table full of the crazy aunts or the one where the piano playing uncle had just sat down after finishing a rough but pleasant version of piano man. With most of my food left and a full glass of wine I was nowhere near a natural reason. As I put the final mental touches on my excuse to switch tables (which happened to include aliens and a tragic simultaneous third and four world wars if I were to stay at this table) I was unexpectedly saved from the awkwardness. At exactly the same moment, as if they silently agreed they had been hard enough on me, a conversation broke out on both sides of me one about the game of Risk going on upstairs and the other about the new Harry Potter movie. Feeling at home in the two conversations I participated equally in both and before long was laughing and debating musical tastes and general world domination with a huge smile on my face.

After going back for thirds and eating my share of the pies I headed back to the theatre, having already stayed a little longer than I should have. Carrying a box full of extra food for my employees back through the cold I smiled, although I was missing my family and my love, it was the kids and the laughing that really made it feel like Thanksgiving, and the food, which was amazing, quickly became a sideline bonus.

macho sucks

Alright Jack I got another one (i.e. three) for you.

Last night we opened Saw II, a second in the Saw series (although for those of you that are interested, it was written by a graduate of Grinnell College that had never seen Saw. Someone bought his story, adapted it to fit the Saw story line and shazaam instant sequel. One other bit of Saw trivia for ya: the actor who plays the kidnapper in the first Saw is from Grinnell and I met his parents the other night. Apparently he also has a role in Zorro and they came out to see it). For those of you that don’t already know I dread playing “R” rated movies because most of my night is spent listening to 27 identical stories about how they accidentally dropped their id into the Grand Canyon last week and although an amazing updraft almost brought it back into their reach a pterodactyl swooped down and ate it thinking that it was a prehistoric moth. Tragic. Actually if I ever heard a decent variation of “Oh I don’t have it with me” I just might let them in based on creativity alone.

The four o’clock shows went without a hitch. We sold about 5 tickets to the movie. In fact the gap between the two shows went fairly smoothly as well, except for the story of near death which we will cover soon. So now we are sitting just before the 7 o’clock movie starts. I have heard about 9 variations of “I didn’t bring my id” and about 6 pleas about why they should be allowed an exception to the rule. I have a line of about 20 people mostly families and kids for Chicken Little and Dreamer, but a few scattered teens clearly here for Saw II. A guy walks up to the counter with two young girls, one on either side of him. I am guessing him to be around 24 and the girls to be between 15 and 17. He asks for 3 tickets and I ask for their ids. Neither one of the girls has their id but he assures me that they are both 17. I press him on it telling him that I have to see the ids or no tickets. Then he comes out with a story about how the girl on his right is his sister and he is her legal guardian and therefore she doesn’t need her id. He tells me that their parents died while back and the courts appointed him her legal guardian. While unlikely, I tell him ok but still insist on seeing the other girl’s id. She breaks into a story, but before she gets too far he holds up his hand to silence her, gives me a smug look, and says “she’s ok I’ll vouch for her.” At this point I am growing tired of them and the people behind them in line are craning their necks to see what is going on. When he realizes that that excuse still doesn’t fly, just like it didn’t when he used it 2 minutes before that, he slips his hand into his pocket and slides a bright and shiny

across the counter. Sporting an even smugger face he cocks his head a little and assures me that that would be mine if I just helped him out this once. I decided that that was enough and told him firmly that they were to leave. At this point he leans slightly over the counter and asks “who are you talking to!?” I respond, possibly a little too quickly, “I am talking to you.” In an instant his face changes and I am suddenly sure that I am going to get hit in the face. Poor Joey and Susie, in line behind him, just came for their Chicken Little tickets and they are going to be scared for life. And while I know that Joey and Adam have my back they wont be able to get here quick enough to stop the first and fatal blow. Thankfully, instead of pulling a John Cossack from High Fidelity, he simply turns and leaves with his underage floosies in tow. They stew just outside the front door for a while, throwing me dirty looks, but end up leaving without giving me any more trouble.

bowling for q tips

Now cut to the beginning of the 9 o’clock shows, chalk up 10 more ‘forgotten’ ids and 2 more requests for personal favors that would allow them to get into the movie underage. I catch some movement out of the corner of my eye and turn my head just in time to catch two kids disappearing into Saw II, the same two kids that I had just refused tickets to because the guy’s girlfriend was only 16. My concession guy attempted some half hearted “Can I. . . need to. . . ticket” but they were unaffected. So I jog across the lobby hoping to catch them before they sit down (with the movie already running I was not looking forward to a game of “who’s who” in the dark). As I am almost to the door a little girl comes sprinting around the corner right into my path. With my cat like reflexes I dodge to the left just missing her, but while dodging I managed to bump an adult coming out of Dreamer. Having already used up my reflexes to avoid the first collision I turned to catch myself as I fell. While falling I turned just enough to watch a sixty year old woman

stumble and fall over backwards; the woman that I had bumped while trying to avoid the little girl. I jumped up and helped her back to her feet, feeling much more like a shmuck than I ever have in my life. She was fine. I apologized and mumbled something about trying to keep the younger kids out of Saw II. She apologized for “getting in my way.” I assured her that she had done nothing of the sort and that it was completely my fault. Meanwhile the two underage kids peaked back out and, seeing that they were caught, proceeded to stand there and smirk. Her husband walked her out and, while he looked really pissed, didn’t say a word to me (her husband happens to be one of the primary investors in the theatre). I then gave a weak attempt at kicking the two kids out of the theatre but instead sent them back into Chicken Little.

Before last night I would be hard pressed to recount any embarrassing moment, but not so much anymore.