Woody Cavenaugh

Today was a day marked by one of man's lesser know noble pursuits "improvisation". The plan was to fix the water break and continue on with the list. Before breakfast this morning the plan went swimmingly. I put on a pot of beef ribs for my dinner. Then I put on a pair of work gloves and I commenced to shoveling. I now have a partial mote around the front of the house in front of yesterday's water break. The dirt I dug from the mote I added to the wall of yesterday's toils. I also have blisters on my right hand the likes of which I hadn't seen since puberty. You can take that however you like.

Breakfast, three hot biscuits covered in strawberries topped with whipped topping, was had. It was as yummy as it sounds. So here I was ten AM, my hands near bleeding. Shoveling is out of the question for the rest of the day. Fine, I can get out the mower and do some mulching. By the time I got to the mower shed, I realized that it was too wet still for mulching. Before I realized it, I was, shovel in hand planting a dozen black walnuts. Should society collapse, my children will have a source of black die, and some highly nutritious nut meat. If society doesn't collapse my children will have black hands from getting the nut meat out, and some of the tastiest baked goods to be had.

From there I fell in on digging up an old Primestar dish. the company might not have survived the 90's and I have no idea what their service was like, but I will say this for them. They put the dishes in for the long haul. I dug until I hit concrete, I dug around the concrete. I broke a two by four in three places trying to use it to break the thing lose. This would be a job for a 4X4 and a chain but it was wet out, and the tires on the truck are getting a little thin. I had no desire to do all that work getting the truck into place with the chain only to slide across the surface of the ground frictionlessly. So I dug some more and finally decided to quit. My right hand was hurting and I needed some water.

While drinking my water and nursing my weaknesses, I noticed that the bumble bees were hard at work trying to tear my porch down. So I waged war against the bees with a tub of grease. I think I packed enough grease in every hole. I'll know tomorrow.

Today would be a perfect day being all wet and all to move those cedars, however for the moment I should avoid any more shovel work. Maybe I'll take a nap. Yeah, you know that actually sounds like a swell idea. Be back later.

Later: After my nap, I sent the beef ribs through the BBQ sauce and across the flames. Then I played a little Unreal Tournament while I waited for the sauce to caramelize. Oh joy! Oh Rapture! I could not eat more than seven at a standing. That leaves one lonely rib taunting me. victory will be mine. I just need to rest up first. Once the beef broth cools I'll skim off the tallow and make my soup. This I will freeze. I am not feeling soup right now. Heck I can't even polish off the last rib right now.

I'm feeling the urge to mark something off my list. I suppose I should put my pants back on, waddle outdoors and give it another go. No shovel this time. I'm serious.

Annoyingly useless Primestar dish, you now face The Tick. I had been thwarted earlier, but I am not the kind of guy to stay thwarted long. Clever monkeys took a lesson from the Egyptians. Creating a false door, or in this case a false concrete slab. Mortal men would have gotten the first foot thick slab out of the way and finding it was for nothing would give up. I am not mortal men. I came at it from the west side, and it mocked me. No one mocks me from the west like that. I went to the north side and it mocked me no more. I took a victory lap around the back yard dragging my prize, eighteen inches of forbidden concrete wrapped around the base pole of an annoyingly useless Primestar dish. I thought briefly of taking the receiver module as a trophy, but I am not a man to take trophies. They just end up cluttering up the place and need constant dusting. But I was left with a hole. What to do...what to do. I could use this hole to place a time capsule so when future space men opened up the hole to see the surprise left from the past they would find me. It was a good plan. So I filled the hole with the shattered pieces of the dish itself and covered that with shattered concrete and less shattered dirt. I'll show those future spacemen who was boss.

Now I'm all tired and sweaty again. Good thing I've been wearing the same cloths since Friday. Can you imagine the laundry load this would have created otherwise? Think I'll break out an ice cold cider and savor my victory. But only one, The conquering heroine returns tonight and I have to pick her up in the boro at Midnight tonight.

Its 5pm and the thunderstorms from the west are right on schedule. I guess I'll upload now. If you are keeping score at home, I completed nine of seventeen tasks on my list. Also, if by chance on Sunday evening right around 6pm you think you may have heard, right at the edge of hearing, a wail of heartfelt angst and despair...that was me. It means the water break is still broken.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 5:11 PM | Permalink

I was dreaming that the corgi and the three cats were performing a cover of Motley Crew's "Cum on Feel the Noiz". It was really awful. They had no harmony whatsoever, and the dog didn't even know the lyrics. Finally I woke up. Unfortunately the cacophony didn't end there. The four animals were camped outside the bedroom door demanding that my lazy butt get up and put food in their waiting bellys. It was 10am and I was really worried about what moving was going to be like. I started slowly being careful not to make any sudden movements. No soreness. Cool. Who knew bananas and cider were such magical foods.

Satisfied I wouldn't find myself in excruciating pain, I shut the animals up with their breakfast. I then put on a pot of coffee and a pot of country style pork ribs. Breakfast for me doesn't begin until after the coffee is finished. Or at the very least I'm halfway through my last cup.

By the time I was ready to go out and begin working it was noon. Noon you say? I've wasted half the day away! Well, yes and no. I am in what I will optimistically call "amazingly poor physical condition". I know that it will take only a few hours of toil to completely destroy me. Would I rather lay panting in the shade of the front porch in broad daylight with hours of good daylight to go, or would I rather find myself laying panting in the shade of the front porch at dusk? I vote dusk. That way it at least feels like I've put in a full day of work.

Some see the glass half full, others half empty, I prefer to see free refills.

This is what I started with.

First thing I figured I ought to do is get the leaves out. Time to get the mower and the bagger. The mower had a dead battery so instead I got a battery charger and drop cord...then I got a rake. It turned up all the things I thought it would. Big black lizards with yellow racing stripes, little gray frogs, and tiny brown snakes. Those who know me know that snakes and I do not get along. As a child the sight alone of a snake would awaken my mutant powers of speed and teleportation. It also sent me into a blind panic. As I have grown I have slowly gone from always giving the snake right of way to what is now, the opinion that I'm here and you have to move on. I have shoulders. I win. If the snake disagrees, I'll still let him have his way of course. But I don't kill them. I'm soft hearted I guess. I'm sure if I was given a reason to kill a snake I would. Like if I were bitten. I would kill it before my heart exploded. The poison wouldn't stand a chance. My final thoughts would be of exploding and killing every snake in a quarter mile radius.

It was a good day. The lizards went away, the frogs went away, the snakes went away, and the leaves went away. Well, the leaves went away from the immediate area I was working in. Step two required a shovel. I still hadn't quite worked out which side of the water break the planters would go. I sort of wished my dad was there to lend me his advice. Probably his advice would be to get some dynamite and put in a real garden and not mess around with stupid flower boxes. Quickly I realize though, after digging up shovel full after shovel full of worms, if my dad had been there we would have filled a gallon pail with worms and made fast to the river where he would wage war against the river monsters great and small. On second thought, probably better he wasn't here.

I quickly realized that this project would require four more window planters, which will wait until pay day so I can figure out what to put in them. I opened up my giant bag of organic dirt to notice that it warned against using it in planters. Crap. I also noticed where it said not to touch the soil and to wear garden gloves. Crap. Literally. It is organic after all. Don't worry, I didn't get any on me!

I realized that I needed a break. I also needed a couple of things so I headed for the store to get the stuff I needed. On the way there I drank a bottle of water, on the way back I drank a bottle of hydrating sports drink. Once back I did the finishing touches on the last of the work I intended to do today. It was 4pm, 85 degrees in the shade, 83 degrees indoors. I sat down on the porch with a cider and I surveyed my hard work. I got out my list of seventeen items to accomplish this weekend and I marked off numbers six and seven. Mayhaps this is a multi-weekend task list.

Here's what I ended up with. Looks like crap don't it.

It really needs a truck full of pine bark mulch I can't afford. I will instead use the leaf mulch I will make with the lawn mower tomorrow. Yes, I know, bad idea, but cut me some slack I'm making lemon aid here.

The thunderstorm rolled in at 5pm. I sent a second cider down to see what happened to the first cider and I came inside to write this and get it published. Once done, I'll go back to the porch and watch the storm a while and cool off. My blisters have blisters. Worse yet, most of them are on my right hand. I do all my favorite things with my right hand. The computer mouse you pervs! I'm far too and hot tired to do anything else. I may have to call on a third cider to make sure the first and second are safe and well.

At any rate, during the hour and ten minutes it has taken me to upload these photos, I have had a first hand opportunity to see how my new water break faired. To sum up: I think I made it worse. So here's a plant stand with a gnome sleeping in it.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 4:51 PM | Permalink

With Sara off conquering Florida, I found I would have a few days to myself to do whatever. My first thought of course was to do nothing. My second thought was that I do that every day. Sara's gone for three days and I should do something I haven't done in a long time. Something that won't get me arrested, won't get me divorced, and maybe get me out of the house a little.

So today, being Friday, I played hooky from work. Yeah, it wasn't all that spontaneous. I announced my intention to play hooky on Tuesday during a staff meeting. That night I bought a family pack of country style pork ribs for my weekend. First thing this morning when I woke up, eight in the morning, I think. I made up a pot of coffee and I sat outside on the porch and I surveyed all that was before me and I let a plan form. Then I went shopping.

You can't make an omelet if you don't break a few eggs. If eggs were dollars I broke a whole bunch of them. However, being my father's son, I shopped twice, purchased once, and had a good lunch. I said I was going to do stuff that I couldn't otherwise do with Sara home. So, not only did I shop in stores without buying anything, I had a lunch buffet. Oh I am such the rebel.

My starting plan was to do some square foot gardening in boxes to the left and right of the front porch. The best boxes I could find for the job were nearly $40.00 each. So to stay in budget the best I could do was maybe buy two boxes so at least it would remain symmetrical. I suppose every month I could add two more, and then by winter I could have my whole garden finally in the ground. But there is also this pesky problem I'm having with drainage. OK, new task, I need to do something about my drainage problem. Water from the driveway shouldn't be able to wash down the driveway, up the ramp and deposit red clay on my doormat. It shouldn't but it does, and I need to fix that too.

New plan. Lets see if we can fix the drainage problem with a garden. Dad always said that if man made it, man could fix it. I'm not sure if man was totally responsible for my drainage problem, but they had enough of a hand in it that I felt like I had a fair shot at fixing it, or at the very least, not making it worse.

When I got home from a really relaxing day of shopping, eating, and planning, I still had two hours before I had to be at fencing. That gave me time to install a couple of shelves in the man cave, organize that, and what do you know, I still have time to do one other small task.

I chose the task "pave the end of the walk". The ramp to the house ends and the original builders put in some round flat concrete stones to bridge the gap between the end of the planking and the drive way proper. Due to the fact that the slats on the ramp ran diagonally I had a polygon shape to fill with something. I found some really cool oddly shaped concrete blocks roughly sixteen inches on its longest side. On the display they fit together like natural looking puzzle pieces. The display made them look really awesome, they were four dollars each. I only needed four so what the heck. I realized that this would mean there would be blank spots around. In the display they had neatly cut the pieces to fit in their display. I had nothing to cut concrete with besides an old splitting ax with a busted handle. Not a masonry saw, but way way cheaper than a masonry saw.

First I would need to dig out some of that dirt that has washed into the space so I can get a good flush fit. The entire place I live was carved by glacial movement. I know this because you can't put a shovel in the ground without hitting rocks. Sure, four paving stones, multiplied by all those lose rocks turned an easy job into a much more difficult one. Plus three of the four blocks had to be cut to fit. As you can imagine, with the tools I had that didn't go as well as one would hope. By the time I was finished I was borderline overheated, and exhausted. I sat under the porch nursing a bottle of water and surveying my accomplishment. I was tired. Real tired. Then Mario messages me.

He can't make fencing tonight, I will need to solo his class. Why oh why did I pick up that shovel? I left early for fencing. I had some small projects there to deal with too. On the way I picked up a big Gateraid, and a big bottle of water. I was going to need to hydrate if I planned to teach saber that night.

I had just put the finishing touches on my fencing cabinet work when my students arrived. The lesson was absolutely awesome and I managed to leave fencing more energized than I had arrived. Now to Bojangles, I wanted chicken, I really wanted the biscuits to go with strawberries for my breakfast Saturday morning. It was eight PM and I had managed to find the one Bojangles in all of creation who was out of chicken. How does one even do that? You're a frik'n chicken place for heaven's sake!

My back up plan was to go to food lion and pick up a box of chicken and two cans of refrigerated biscuits. As fate would have it, they had no chicken either, so I picked up three bananas for dinner, a six of hard cider for those hot evenings of surveying my hard work, and two cans of refrigerated biscuits. Apparently Sara prayed that I wouldn't do anything stupid this weekend while she was gone. I guess that chicken counts as stupid. Damn.

At home, I ate my bananas, drank a cider and played a game before hobbling sorely to bed. Saturday was going to be a hard day.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 11:33 PM | Permalink

In the space what was Wild Magnolia, in the space what was a 3 bay garage, now lives a wood fired clay oven pizza restaurant. And it was good. Very good.

Sticks and Stones seems to have taken the motto "Think globally, eat locally". Most all of their ingredients are local to the point that they make note when something isn't. Some people and places claim to be "sustainable" but these guys are living it. It shows up in the seasonable menu and the waterless urinal in the mens room. These are details that I notice and appreciate.

They list the farms where they get their veggies. They list the farms where they get their free range meats. They list the Goat Lady Dairy where they get their goat cheese. They mention the herb garden next to the restaurant where they get their herbs.

The general feel of the place still reminds me of New Orleans with the three large sets of French doors in the spaces that used to be garage doors. The layout is pretty much just like Wild Magnolia used to be. The big difference between them and Wild Magnolia is they didn't hit the local landfill for all of their furniture and decor.

Everything is wood now. The table tops are all wood covered with glass. Sandwiched between are old newspaper and magazine articles, ads, and such. It felt like they were going for European countryside to me. I also think they got it. I'm all about the big open French doors for atmosphere.

The beer and wine selection is quite nice for a place that isn't a bar.

The Wife and I had an appetizer, large pizza, extra topping, drinks, coffee and dessert for $36.00. Which isn't so bad. Your mileage may vary depending on if you are in the mood to "eat" or to "dine".

The quality of the food was very high, while the portion size was fairly small. Our appetizer called the "Pinkheart" which consisted of "Old Mill Polenta battered Mortadella corn dogs with roasted tomato coulis and wildflower honey mustard" cost us $6.25 It contained five pieces which equaled about one hot dog. The roasted tomato coulis, though tastey didn't add anything to it. The wildflower honey mustard rocked with it. The dish was very tasty, but neither Sara nor I thought it was a particular value. On the plus side that means that next time we get to try one of the other appetizers.

Our pizza "To be the One", a "Margherita pizza with tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella, parmesan, and fresh basil" we added pepperoni. Sized large with the added pepperoni cost $18.95. It was probably one of the best Margherita pizzas I have ever had.

Some pizza places see the crust as nothing more than a topping transport device. Some pizza places see the crust as the center of the pizza and toppings are nothing more than condiments. Sticks and Stones made the crust an integral part of the pizza experience. The organic flour comes from Lindley Mills in Eli Whitney NC. The wood burning oven is kept at 700 degrees. The effect is that at first glance you might find your crust a little more done than you would expect or prefer. The fact is that though the crust is dark compared to most pizza places, it is not scorched. That little extra heat seemed to bring out some of the character in the crust which I should add was not tough, overly crunchy or even soggy from the ingredients. Plus they used a little toasted wheat bran in their dough which will darken it a bit anyway. It was a nice detail, well worth it.

The pizza experience was amazing! However, the large pizza pan they put on our table clearly had a medium sized pizza in the middle of it. The Wife and I polished it off entirely and still had room for dessert. This turned out to be a good thing.

For dessert we had wood oven baked peach and walnut cobbler with Homeland Creamery ice cream. $4.95 We shared one, and it was excellent, the walnuts served in the place of the traditional cobbler crust and really helped bring out the flavor of the peaches. No pizza place I have ever eaten in can claim a better dessert.

The place was family friendly and in fact there were a surprising number of young professional couples with their "first child" eating there. They even have on their kids menu what they call a "Kids Cheese Pizza" on the menu "Tomato sauce, whole milk mozzarella" add pepperoni for extra.

What you can't do here: I have the menu before me and they have no ingredient list where you can make your own pizza. That said, the offerings they have are good enough that you probably wouldn't want to anyway. Five of the pizzas were veggie. They also have some really fancy salads that I am inclined to have next time. (Add wood-fire roasted chicken to any salad for $3.95)

Noise: I am sensitive to noise. The echo in Sticks and Stones was warm and tended to be voices, but not so you felt like everyone could hear what you were saying. Some places I have eaten in have the same volume but the quality is metallic and tinny. If we're going to have noise, let it be warm and pleasant.

They have a url but at this posting they haven't actually done anything with it yet (like make a web page). They have only been open a couple of weeks now.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 9:49 AM | Permalink

It is Sunday. Sunday means that the coffee taste better and I call my parents. The coffee tastes better on Sundays because that is the one day a week I can actually sit down and enjoy it. Monday through Friday coffee is my drive to work ritual. Saturday is a day where anything can happen. Sunday is, 90% of the time, the day where I can get up put on a pot of coffee and sit down with my first mug, where at 8am on the dot I call home just like I've done every Sunday since 1992 when I left my homeland to seek my fortune in the Piedmont.

Once off the phone I start up my other Sunday morning ritual of Celtic or bluegrass listening. That ritual began some years back when there was a bluegrass radio show on one of the local stations. The show went off the air but by then the ritual was established and I'm not going to let a thing like Buddy Michaels' show going away to change a good thing into a bad thing. Sunday is the day of the fiddle, and some day, sooner rather than latter I'll be practicing on the fiddle during this time as well.

Alright, we've established my Sunday, lets crack open the old anxiety closet and see what's on tap for today. Sunday is the only day of the week where I can, without guilt, explore my various and sundry emotional boogums. I've got a job to do the other six days and need to be on the clock as best as I can possibly be. Lately I haven't been very successful at that. So, lets do something light today shall we?

My mother mentioned that an aunt and uncle of mine came for a visit the day before. I hate that I miss those visits, as he's the one uncle I can relax around. He's not judgmental. Opinionated yes, judgmental no. It is always a relaxing visit with him. Plus he loves to eat as much as I do. The difference is, he's incapable of gaining weight, where on the other hand I gain weight for him and others just by being in the vicinity.

While we were talking about what they ate and how good it was, mom mentioned that my cousin...my professional writer cousin, had stumbled upon the humble blog of yours truly. Her voice was strained, but it didn't really sink in until after I had uttered the words, "Oh good!" For those following at home, mom is a nine on the Eneigram chart. Called "The Peacemaker", nines work extremely hard to avoid all conflicts. They don't vocalize opinions, and if they do have an opinion they will only verbalize it if the feel the group already agrees.

She taught...OK...tried to teach me that one should keep their opinions to themselves. The lesson, (obviously) didn't stick with me. My opinion on the matter is that if you keep your mouth shut all the time you allow yourself to be a victim. History teaches that "going with the flow" is one of the greatest sins of man. On this, clearly, mom and I would disagree completely, if we could actually have this conversation. So mom isn't what we would call a regular reader. Occasionally she stumbles upon something, but she won't read much because she doesn't want to feel humiliated by what I say.

So after saying the words "Oh good!" I had to immediately add, "I hope it was nothing that would be too embarrassing for you." Her response was as tactful as she knew how to make it. "I think she found one of your opinions." Translated into English, that statement means, "I can't believe that you say those things in public, and worse yet, on the internet where everyone can see it. Now your successful cousin with the three children has told your aunt and uncle and sooner or later the whole family is going to know my secret shame". OK, in all fairness I may have embellished the part about the secret shame a little. If you are reading this, it is no secret, but don't tell mom.

How do I feel about that? That's what my shrink is going to ask me next week. I hate that question. I was never really good with non concrete questions. It puts me on the spot. I have to find words to articulate intuition and words are poor tools to describe the feeling I get from seeing how everything works together and feeling strongly about something that I can't prove. All I can do is make my prediction of the outcome, and let time prove or disprove it.

How do I feel about my mom being humiliated by my publishing my thoughts, feelings and opinions for the world to see? I feel hungry. I feel ambivalent. My eyes burn. I want to fight. I want to flee. How do I feel about my mom being humiliated by my publishing my thoughts, feelings, and opinions for the world to see?

Same as I feel about everything else.

I know why I do it, I know why it is the right thing to do, I know why it hurts her, I know that where it may close some doors, it also opens others. I know that when the dust settles, I will have gained more than I have lost. I know all this because that is what my gut tells me. Only I can't prove it, I can't articulate it, and it frustrates me that I can't communicate it.

And that is why I started doing it to begin with.

Every person who agrees with me, every person who calls me an idiot, every person who finds a warm spot in their heart for me, every person who wishes I'd just shut up and go to hell, formed that opinion based on information I was able to articulate to them.

And that is what the past nine hundred and fifteen blog entries have been about. In exchange for being the black sheep of my clan, I will one day learn to understand the question "How do you feel" while being able to articulate an answer. So say I left my homeland to seek my fortune, say I banished myself, say I left to avoid being banished. It is little more than a label on a door. There are always other doors.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 10:20 AM | Permalink

They say that trouble comes in threes. If that's true perhaps I should go ahead and crawl under my desk now and wait for the inevitable.

1. You may already know about the car.

2. Dad's cancer which they thought they might have knocked out apparently evolved instead. Now they don't know if they should do more chemo, remove everything in his throat entirely or offer it voting rights in time for the May primary. (My guess is it will vote Republican.)

Dudes, its only Thursday as I write this. That means I have one more day of work and Saturday to get through wondering what is going to happen now. I'll bet you are wondering what the date has to do with it. I don't know...its arbitrary. I have proclaimed that the third event has until the end of the week to occur or it loses its right to occur entirely.

What else am I supposed to do? I suppose I could ignore it and treat every day as a new and precious thing with no connection to the night on either side. Then when the shoe falls I could just put my fingers in my ears, call it a random chance and go on day by day taking all the other random chances square in the nose.

That sounds way too much like walking blindfolded through a field of rakes.

So stop me, stop me, from giving up
stop me, stop me
from taking the world, oh for what it is
a state of peaceful shit

-Stop Me by The Booze Brothers (One of my very favorite Celtic rock bands.)

"Mildly depressed" can easily manifest as "kind of pissy" in the six. So I can smile a little when the spell checker suggest that "pissy" might be "prissy" or "sissy" misspelled. Smug git spell checker is spoiling for a rumble. The only people that get to question my manhood to my face are me, and maybe my urologist.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 8:55 AM | Permalink

For the second time since being married to Sara we opted to have Arby's for dinner. For the second time since being married the car broke down in the parking lot of an Arby's For those of you who believe in coincidence you are probably thinking "Wow, what are the chances?" For those of us who don't believe in coincidence we are thinking, "Huh, I wonder why that happened." To make matters more interesting in both cases events occurred to cause the car's belt to come off. In the first case the tensioner broke and took the belt with it, thus making putting the belt back on impossible. This time the belt came off whole. The tensioner seemed fine, so perhaps one of the other pulleys are having intermittent issues.

When dealing with any problem dad always taught me to explore the simplest answers first. OK. So why would someone lay a curse on me that caused my car to break down every time I went to an Arby's. That's just crazy talk! I have eaten at Arby's alone before and had no car trouble at all.

So why would someone lay a curse on me that caused my car to break down every time I went to Arby's with family. That includes all of the constants. Saturn, Sara, Arby's, and Me. I can't imagine why someone would lay such a specific curse upon me. I have always been kind to the folks behind the counter. They have the power to spit in my food if I cross them. I also have no preference for the ethnic group that prepares my food (unlike some I've blogged about recently).

Other clues? On the other side of the parking lot someone else was having car trouble. I should have found out what they were having problems with. That could have been an important clue. Since someone else was having car trouble at the same time in the parking lot of an Arby's perhaps I am not the target of the curse. I wonder if the Arby's symbol, seen recently hovering over the heads of customers in their commercials is also some ancient and pissed off symbol? It seems likely that someone would have noticed that by now. Ancient tombs or ancient tablets inscribed with a roast beef chain's logo would have made the news somewhere. This is probably not it.

It could be an Arby's competitor. Some company who wants to make people feel negative about eating at Arby's. It would have been easier and more powerful to make the people who eat at Arby's sick. This means that the ones responsible are ethical. That rules out most of the fast food world. I'm left with Subway, Chiplote, and Chick-fil-A off the top of my mind.

Arby's and Chiplote are not competitive, they don't serve the same foods or target the same demographic. That leaves Subway and Chick-fil-A. Subway is owned by Doctor's inc. Doctors wouldn't want to hurt people. But they are also a group that doesn't do "belief" they do their provable facts with questionable chemicals that fix symptoms with side effects that are generally mild and probably not worse then the symptom they are trying to suppress.

Chick-fil-A is a Christian run organization. They wouldn't hurt people as a first choice. They choose belief over fact. Hoodoo is a Christian form of magic that could work exactly like I have experienced. The company and Arby's both target the same demographic. Arby's sells salads and chicken sandwiches. They also sell yummy roast beef sandwiches as their primary product. Chick-fil-A's motto is "Eat more Chicken" and is illustrated by terrorist bovines. I think we have a winner here.

The spell is clever. It doesn't cause EVERY car to break down that goes to Arby's. First the car must have the entire family in it. Then the spell targets the weakest part of the car, nudging it towards failure. If the part is already in bad enough shape the spell is enough to cause it to fail completely. If the weakest link is strong enough nothing happens. This means that for most people there wouldn't appear to be a curse at work. This is the work of a very clever root doctor.

I love roast beef sandwiches as much as the next guy, but I just can't afford the car repairs right now.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 7:44 AM | Permalink

Both my personal brain care specialist and my acupuncturist suggested I take my tubby butt for walkies once in a while. Oddly enough for the same reason to. If I'm expending energy on my muscles I won't spend it multitasking in my head. Both of these specialist believe that most of my personal boogums would be beaten by single threaded thinking.

So, on Monday I planned to take a walk from work to the fencing class I help teach. Difficulty level? It is a 40 minute walk that I only had 30 minutes to take because I was distracted by several different things at once. Were I a smart man I would have realized that the answer to this problem is that the trip takes 40 minutes therefore the right thing to do was to leave ten minutes earlier, or accept that I would be ten minutes late. I didn't think of that though. My first response to the problem was simply to GO FASTER.

Nice. Very freakin' mature huh? So a mile in I hurt from my big toe to my waist and I couldn't seem to make myself slow down either. Or perhaps I was slowing down but it sucked so bad I couldn't tell. At any rate, it was in that place of idiotic agony that I slipped into a place of meditation where I ignored the warning signs of a failing body and focused on what was on my mind at the moment. Fencing.

In the years that I have been involved in fencing I have always stayed near the Divisional helm. Never captain, but always first mate, or at the very least bos'n. I have no desire or qualifications to lead but I have the loyalty to follow the captain all the way to Davey Jones if thats where the wind takes us.

I had during all this time always wondered what was wrong with the good smart people and clubs that ran silent. By that I mean some very good leadership talent was avoiding serving the division and went as far as to actively run away from any division level responsibility.

Now I know. That was the wisdom I found in the burning and shortness of breath. It was so simple and so obvious and I think I may have picked up my pace a little as punishment for not having though of it earlier.

Fencers by our very nature are unique and precious snowflakes no two alike. Our sport is a western martial art. It evolved from two people getting a sword, and one leaving in a box. The simple wisdom that came so late to me is that trying to be organized at a divisional level is taking on the job of cat herder. If there are ten fencers there are ten certain ways to get a single thing done and no one's budging from their plan. All of the others gave it a go, and quickly realized that they couldn't get their way even though it was so obvious that they were right. So those people shifted their focus to their own clubs which had been languishing because of the amount of energy they were throwing away trying to make the other clubs in the division see things their way. Their clubs, their membership rosters, and their level of competitive skill climbed immediately.

Then I thought about my own club. We are down two leaders; one, our matriarch, retired, the other lost interest in the sport due to issues in her personal life. Since they left our membership list shrank, our competitive list dropped to just two, and the remaining leadership were all hands on deck helping set up, run and tear down division events.

So what we really need to do is focus on our own club first and be there for the division if they need equipment or space to hold an event. *facepalm* The epiphany hits like a two ton heavy thing.

And like a reward from the cosmos itself, right at that moment, Cameron pulled up offering me a ride for the final third of the way to class.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 7:44 AM | Permalink

So this African American guy walks into an Italian restaurant and he says to the Italian behind the counter...
Sounds like the set up for a racist joke but unfortunately it happened, and more unfortunately I was a witness to the sad stupid and racist punchline.

There is a certain family owned chain of Italian restaurants in the city that I really enjoy and eat at whenever I get the chance. They are good people who make good food at a good price. I was in there last night when this guy walks in. Apparently he called his order in and was showing up to pick it up.

Note: When you call a restaurant doesn't matter if it is Italian, Chinese, or Mexican, and the person on the other end of the phone speaks with a thick accent it is your responsibility as a patron to place your order slowly and clearly and listen to them repeat it back to you so you can be sure that what you get is what you order. As a corollary to this, you can also understand that you probably want to keep the order fairly simple to avoid confusion.

This guy apparently slept through his Captain Obvious training. He ordered two pizzas, he came in gave his name and paid his bill, his pizzas were handed to him and he opens up each box. One he is OK with, the other not so much. Please allow me to paraphrase the conversation.

What is this? I ordered this pizza with a lot of onion and a little bit of green pepper. What do you see here? This pizza has some onion and some green pepper. If I wanted that much green pepper I would have ordered it.

Understand that I am paraphrasing this guy because he spoke potty mouth like some sort of dime store Chris Tucker. He seemed to enjoy using colorful racist slurs. Plus he was yelling.

The manager on duty who was Italian, did what any good business owner would. He offered to remake the pizza on the spot. Not good enough. Our loud mouth idiot wants his money back and the new pizza and he DEMANDED that no Mexican touch his food. It was about this point that the woman who came in with him (and she hadn't said a single word this whole entire time) walked out. I can understand that. I would be ashamed to be seen with this guy too.

I was so offended I took his picture with my camera phone and uploaded it to the great wide internet. My hope was that the flash would go off so he would have no choice but to include me in the conversation. I really wanted to ask him, "You think Martin Luther King died so you could act like this?" Unfortunately for me, the flash didn't go off because the kitchen was bright enough that it wasn't needed. I never got to ask him my question.

His argument was that he was in an Italian establishment and he wanted an Italian making his food. The obvious truth in the job market is that there simply aren't enough Italians available to make all the pizza in the city. There probably aren't enough Italians in all the world to make all the pizza eaten in America alone. This Italian family is too busy owning and running a chain of very fine restaurants to make all the food they serve in them. They have to hire from the pool of people applying for the job just like everyone else. It just so happened that among the restaurant staff, there were a mixture of Mexicans and Celts and one dumbass racist African American customer who really needed to get slapped upside his head with The Dream. Thank you "Mr. Setting the Civil Rights Movement Back 20 Years"

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 8:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

After helping with the fencing tournament on Saturday, I had to leave early to go do my other thing, being a part time shooter and full time fan for the Carolina Phoenix. This was the Phoenix's first home game in Durham Stadium. It was also their first game in their own spiffy new black uniforms, and with a full roster of players.

I arrived to find a tailgate party already in progress. This warmed the cockles of my heart. You've made it as a spectator sport when you attract tailgaters. By game time there were about two hundred in the stands, some of them even brought more cowbell. I got in, got checked in, was issued my volunteer badge and was looking for the video camera I was going to be shooting with when it was revealed that no video camera had been arranged. That just meant that I could attempt to take better notes and practice my still camera work. The reality was that I just took, more notes, not better notes and one shouldn't attempt to take still photos and copious notes at the same time. Both suffered for it.

But enough about me. Lets talk football!

The game had two halves and the Carolina Phoenix owned the first one. The Phoenix received from the Thunder and scored on the first possession with 9:42 in the first quarter on a 13 yard pass. In fact in the first half the Phoenix had no turn overs and scored on every possession.

Here's a highlight: Thunder has possession and has to punt (The Thunder failed to make a single first down in the entire first half), 13:22 in the 2nd quarter the wind catches the punt and takes it high but not far. The ball falls pretty flat and doesn't bounce much. I watch the Phoenix player who is standing in front of it (it fell at her feet) pause, shrug, pick up the ball and run it for a 70 yard touch down. For those who believe in magic, there must have been a spell cast against the Thunder. As soon as the ball was picked up two of the thunder fell over backwards. At about the 50 yard line two more thunder were in terrific position to make the stop but just before they got into striking distance they both tripped over their own feet and fell over backwards at the same time. From there it was clear sailing for the Phoenix.

By the end of the first half the Phoenix lead 34 to nothing.

The Thunder's first half was marked by failure and drama, while the Phoenix played like business as usual. I don't know what happened in the Thunder locker room during the half time but a different and much better team emerged to play the second half.

The Thunder managed two first downs and kept the Phoenix from scoring again until 6:06 in the 4th when the Phoenix ran for a 42 yard touchdown.

Final score Phoenix 40 Thunder 0.

And that's what four pages of notes got me. I know you don't care about each play and I have no idea who did what on any play so there you go.

Now for the pictures. Most in focus, none worthy of publication. I'll put up two so you don't think I'm being modest.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 1:18 PM | Permalink

Did you ever have one of those days where everything was absolutely perfect? I mean, the weather was perfect. The sun was rising in the most pleasing way, the grass was green, the trees were budding, the MP3 player is playing all my favorite songs. My coffee was extra delicious. It was like driving through heaven. That described my trip to Burlington where I was helping run the desk for the 2008 NC Division II/III national fencing qualifiers.

Then I arrived.

The arrival wasn't all that bad really, I carried my gear in and began to set up. Ten minutes later I realized that my computer...the one I use to run fencing tournaments...like the 2008 NC Division II/III national fencing qualifiers...was at home. I had brought the printer, I had brought all the accessories, but no computer. Opening my mind to all potential I called Mario to download the software on his computer while I told Cameron that I may have to make the hour and ten minute round trip back home to get my machine. Mario got the software but it took 24 hours to get the license key to run large tournaments. Damn. I made the drive home in just under 30 minutes, and yes, I may have played a little fast and loose with the posted speed limit. But to my credit, I was alone on the road so I wasn't endangering anyone but myself.

I may have mentioned in the past that I am Karma's bitch. Today was no different. I got the computer, turned around and watched the sun disappear behind dark clouds. A cold wind filled with the smell of rain hit me full in the face. I took off back in the direction of the venue and noted my low fuel light had come on. I had plenty of time to ponder this since I was the fifth car behind a loaded dump truck on a quiet country road. I couldn't pass for many reasons. The number of cars, the short and non-existent passing zones, the fact that my fuel level was low enough that if I went for full burn I'd probably slosh the gas to the back end of tank and stall. Don't forget the whole "do no harm" clause. And then I had to stop for gas. *sigh*

Close of registration for the first event was 9am. It wasn't until 9:05 that I got registration underway. I was not a merry man. All the joy of the first trip out was destroyed with interest and all I could do was try to be civil.

Fencing tournaments run like this. At the close of registration, a seeding chart is posted showing all registered fencers and their current rating. It is the fencer's responsibility to check the seeding chart to verify that their information is correct. If it is wrong, they come up to the registration table and make the correction. There is no penalty, a new chart is posted and we keep rocking on. This is extremely important with regard to the fencer's rating. This makes sure that all the pools are evenly weighted for fairness. Normal window of opportunity is ten minutes.

Someone in the saber event didn't know to check. I know this because his brother didn't check either. I know this because their coach noticed and brought it to our attention- after fencing began. Once the event begins, it isn't exactly easy to stop it. It requires assembling the bout committee discussing the situation and making the call. Since one of the kids who didn't check was entered as a unrated when he was actually rated a "D", stopping was the right decision to make. Where I took personal exception was were I felt that some forces were blame storming in my direction. We do check as best as we can when the fencers are checking in but it is the fencer's responsibility to (a). know what they are rated, and (b). check to make sure it is right. I think the fencer should be penalized for not checking. Other's think it is the check in desk staff's responsibility to check the registration against the latest USFA membership roster. This is cool when the turn out is low and everything is on time, but if there is a huge turnout or some other time crushing event occurs you have two choices, on time or late.

Sunday I took this tactic. The fencer checks in, I ask them to verify their rating. Once we are ready to start the event we will check the list against the national roster and quietly note where the fencer was mistaken. Then we will post the seeding and call them to check. If they don't fix it I will publicly humiliate them. A lot. Repeatedly.

Sunday started exactly the same way as Saturday did. Perfect day, perfect weather, perfect music, perfect cup of coffee. And the computer was in the car. This means that I can really savor and enjoy the humiliation, and not just do it out of spite. It will be a good day.

And it was a good day. All fencers checked, everything ran just the way it was expected and no one had a bad time. I'd call that a win. Even if our club did have two of our plastic expensive "Fencing Tournament" outdoor signs stolen. On the plus side, they are easy to spot and I am perfectly capable of stealing them back.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 8:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

see more hipster robot webcomics and pixel t-shirts

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 1:17 PM | Permalink

I have had two non-western practitioner's in a row tell me that I need to slow down my through processes, take some time to switch off, or at the very least enter stand-by mode. Thus I am going to start going for a walk every day. I know they said "meditate", but I'm a long away from two semesters of "how to breathe". Both agreed that walking would work, and both agreed that a change of pace like fiddle lessons would probably help too.

Today was the first walk. No phone. No predetermined route. I went where my feet took me. One of the things I like to do when I drive (that's MY meditation time) is to put on some music. Lately my taste has been exclusively Celtic and Celtic rock, some of the bands I listen to call themselves Celtic Punk, but I would disagree. (A conversation for another entry).

My MP3 player has a random function. Most do, but mine is different. Most assume you mean "Play at random each song from the play list once. If set to repeat, at the end of the play list, start the list over". My MP3 player plays a little more randomly than that. It keeps no memory of what it just played. It can and has played the same song more than once. I like this feature. I have always looked for signs in portents in those things thought of as "random". I have little belief in this superstition known as "coincidence".

Today I heard; "Tennessee Stud", "Silk Road", "Long Journey Home", "The Whiskey Never Lies" (Twice in a row), "Dear", "Redemption Song", "Shindig", and "Follow the Lady".

By some coincidence three of the songs were covers with guest star performers from the same CD. The first three songs were about traveling. Then a song about the honesty that alcohol can cause twice in a row. This was followed by a lullaby about love and longing, a song about freedom, an instrumental named for a party, and a song about chasing your dreams.

Interesting...

When I returned, Kimi came by to ask a question and noted with some concern that I had dark circles under my eyes. It must have been all that sunlight, green grass, and fresh air- three things I am not all that accustomed to. Especially 41 minutes worth continuously while walking.

The western practitioner's, by the way, all seem to think if I take one of several pills and spend an hour in the gym every day I won't get any worse and may even see some improvement.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 2:39 PM | Permalink

131,268 People

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 9:26 AM | Permalink

I am putting it here to make it real. When dad got sick I was already under a lot of pressure and he was the final straw. However, with his miraculous recovery, and the falling into place of so many other things I can put my own health back up on the list of things to stay awake at night worrying about.

For that I need goals. Oh look! There's one now. The North Carolina State Games are in Greensboro this year, and Fencing is on the agenda. I can do that. Especially if my only goal is to show up and fence. Just to make sure there is no added pressure I will fence the fun one epee and not my serious one foil.

If I don't leave in an ambulance, I win! That means I've got from now until June 17th to get myself into some semblance of fitting into my gear form. Fighting form is just too much effort and it makes me tired thinking about it. If I can show up and fence and my gear fits, and I don't leave in an ambulance, life is good.

Crap, that means I have to move doesn't it?

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 12:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The Carolina Phoenix announced their regular season schedule in early March and I finally got around to posting it. (Please forgive me, I've been a little distracted.)

Regular Season:
Apr 12 Cape Fear Thunder
Apr 26 @ Palm Beach Punishers
May 3 Carolina Queens
May 17 @ Carolina Queens
May 24 @ Cape Fear Thunder
May 31 Central PA Vipers
Jun 7 @ Atlanta Xplosion
Jun 14 Cape Fear Thunder

All home games this year will be played at Durham Stadium. Kick off is 7pm and tickets are $10.00 with twelve and under free.

Rising from the ashes of the former Carolina Cardinals in 20056. The now team owned Phoenix went 5 - 1 as an expansion team with only 15 players on the roster. This year the roster is 30 and they are hungry for the playoffs.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 8:16 AM | Permalink

Dad called me last night. That in and of its self is something of a miracle, in that he can now speak well enough to be understood on the telephone. Typically we limit our phone calls to Sunday morning at 8am, but he called me last night excited.

When they left the oncologist office they stopped by wally world to pick up a few things. One of the things they picked up was a box of ice cream sandwiches. It was hardly fair since he hasn't had solid food since December. Best he's been able to do was a donut and only then on a Monday morning when he's been off of radiation for a couple of days. His food comes from a can and is dumped into a tube which is installed in his stomach. Those of you who do the Slimfast/metafast/ensure thing know that if you drink that nutritional crap long enough you start to smell like it and it never smells like a good thing.

On the way home he just had to try to eat an ice cream sandwich. It went down. So he had another, which also went down. He couldn't taste it, but what the heck he could eat!!! That night he had a dinner of hog fish, stewed potatoes, and washed it down with a coke. It was his first meal since December and he felt like celebrating, so he called me.

As you can imagine it has taken a certain weight off of me. I can only worry about a certain finite number of things at once. When dad hit the top of the list my own personal health fell off of the bottom. Honestly, I think I have been eating on his behalf. Now my own health is back on the chart and what the hell did I do to my self....

I look like I ate a cow, I feel like an abandoned car, and I sorely need a haircut. But, what the heck, dad's good so I'm good.

Posted by Woody Cavenaugh at 10:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)