Eddie Kay Shun

Last night I went over to my new neighbor's house for a cookout.He has a massive stainless steel grill on casters that he wheeled out of his garage so it faced the street. The sun had already set and the guy grilling the vegetables couldn't see them in the dark. He kept griping and kept asking for light.
I said, why don't we just turn the grill around so that the light from the garage shines on it.
They all laughed at how simple my solution was. I said,
Hey, I got a college education.

Oh-wah-oh

I'm not sure why, but I'm having a serious infatuation with catchy pop music from the late '70s and '80s. I'm turning to music I remember as a small child to bring back the emotions I associate with them: innocence, security, well-being.
First it was Christopher Cross easy-listening classics like Ride Like the Wind. Then the Buggles' one-and-only hit. Every morning, Nicholas and I play Video Killed the Radio Star while we're getting dressed and ready. When it ends, he says, "Again!" and we jump around and dance to the bass drumbeat. I'm sure it's annoying the neighbors to play a silly New Wave song full blast at 7:45 a.m.
But I still do it.

Blue chip

I've been sober for six months. I got my medallion at an AA meeting today; it's a blue aluminum disk the size of a poker chip. I searched around for one on the internet to show you, but all I could find was this assortment. Mine's the one in the middle row, second from the left.
It feels good to make it this far. If I make it to a year, it will be longest I have ever been away from alcohol or drugs since I started using them in my teens. It also feels weird to hit this anniversary because I've been looking forward to it for awhile. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like I expected to get some epiphany about life. Instead, I feel the same as I did yesterday. Dunno why I think that an artificial milestone is going to create a watershed moment for me since all my moments of clarity have arrived without warning and unrelated to any special dates.
But it felt good to sit in a room full of recovering alcoholics I respect and be congratulated by them.

The truth is...

I was at the Belvidere oasis on my way back from a bachelor party in West Dundee and I had heard that the Tollway now has wireless internets. And I just went in to test it out.
I was actually driving down the highway with my work laptop turned on on the seat next to me, testing to see if there were any signal at the toll plazas, too. Of course, open-road tolling doesn't really give you the opportunity to slow down enough to see. When I used to ride the train into Chicago for work, I'd try to log onto an insecure wireless network if I could pick up a signal at a stop. But stops only last a minute or two, so I never could log on fast enough before the train was rolling again and out of reach of the signal.

Wireless world

Apparently, the Belvidere oasis on the Tollway has wireless internet. Because that's where I am sitting right now.
That is all.

Somebody's gotta lotto, might as well be me

This week I bought a lottery ticket. I have never done that before. I mean a real lottery ticket, the one for MegaMillions. Of course I have purchased the scratch-and-win kind. Once I went on a three-week run with those things because I kept winning $2 here or a free ticket there. I kept reinvesting and reaped a $50 payout. Then, after I went through another $20 worth with no wins, I got tired of it and stopped.
But this week, I saw a blurb in the paper that said the big lotto rolled over to $112 million and I figured since it was hitting real money, it might be worth the dollar investment to take a shot at it.
Now, let me point something out. I am in scads of debt. I mean buckets of it. By the container shipload. If I ceased to eat, take up space and stopped requiring any kind of material goods to continue existing, I would still have to work for a couple years to pay it off. I mean, seriously.
I am not complaining here, because I chose it. I'm just saying that a $112 million payout seemed like it could do a lot of good in my life. Like solve 70 percent of my problems. Sure it might bring some new, bigger ones, but I felt ready for that challenge.
So I bought the ticket. The grinning Indian clerk at the quickie mart told me "Good luck!" with such kindness and sincerity that I felt we were friends, brothers in this great human drama.
As I drove away, I remembered something. God is very big. B-I-G. He holds the molecules of the earth together, keeps their electrons orbiting right. His presence keeps the universe from spinning apart. So probably he controls a bunch of numbered ping pong balls spinning in a chamber of full of forced air. And he knows how much I worship money and new stuff. And probably he thinks that me getting enough money to do whatever I want right now might not be the best outcome.
Dang.
I wasn't getting anywhere with this line of reasoning, so I decided to stop thinking about what God would want. Look, I will not live extravagantly, I thought. I will only buy one new car. And I'll keep the one I have now. I mean, I'll need a sedan to drive to work and a truck to haul things in. So the only thing I'll really splurge on is a sports car, you know, as sort of a little treat. But that's it. I don't need a new house; I'll just pay off the one I'm in and stay there. Maybe fix it up a little. The porch needs work and the kitchen is screaming for a remodel. I'll give 10 percent to my church. I'll be very reasonable, when I get back from my six-month vacation. I mean, sheesh, I've been working for four years without a decent, feet up, sipping-a-cool-drink-on-the-beach vacation.
I left the lotto receipt in my car when I got home. Things were looking pretty good for me. Except I couldn't get away from this nagging feeling that God was still the boss and he might have plans for me other than erasing my financial burden in a single cosmic stroke. Seems like he's more into long-term, character-building exercises. Like working off debt the hard way.
And really, winning was up to him. I mean, the odds are 175,711,536 to one.
But I still hoped and I kept returning to my stripped-down -- Spartan, really -- wealth daydream. Then this morning, I fished the ticket out of my glove box and visited the lotto Web site for last night's drawing.
I checked each number carefully. Hmmm... first number didn't match. S'okay. You still get $250,000 if you get five right. Second didn't match either. I kept scanning.
Not one match.
Not one.
Remember my earlier conviction that God controls ping pong balls? I suspected that my incongruous numbers might be a subtle message from him.
I guess I will not be buying any more lotto tickets any time soon.
Dang.

Edict from the throne

I'm sure I'm doing irreparable harm to my son by posting this, but it's just too damn cute.
And he finally reached the zenith of potty training tonight: Number Two. At home. It's been a long road to the summit, but we've reached the top.

The funeral

I went to Jason's funeral Wednesday. It was about an hour and a half long. His father and sister spoke. There wasn't a dry eye in the place. Whenever I thought about his infant daughter, I cried too. It was tough.
A Baptist preacher emceed and after listening to the eulogies, I think he chucked his prepared remarks and improvised. His main message was that we've all got to face God someday and give an account for our lives. So what's yours gonna look like? He seized the occasion of a young man's death to speak about eternity, which I appreciate. But he failed to mention who Christ is. In fact, I don't remember him saying the name Jesus. And you know what? If I've gotta answer to my Creator for what I've done and who I've become, then I'm sunk if somebody ain't there to save me.
At the end of the service, there were bagpipes playing Amazing Grace. Because Pudge was a drummer, several friends strapped on drums and knocked out a great beat afterwards, too.
Besides the friends I see regularly, I saw a lot of old classmates: Susan Bry (don't know her last name now), Eric Spatz, even a guy I went to middle school with, Jason Gough. Matt Brown delivered one of the eulogies. I'm worried about him, he was very close to Jason and I think he's taking it the hardest.

Pudge

I found out today that a guy I knew since high school is dead. His name was Jason Phillips; he played the drums. Ten years ago, he played in the band Seed, back when I used to go to all their shows, all their parties and generally hang out with the entire group of people that orbited around them. He was a friendly guy. We called him Pudge. I didn't see him for many years, then when I started working in Rockford, I would run into him every few months.
It's really sad to me. I wasn't close to him, but we knew each other. He was everybody's friend. He left a wife and one-year-old daughter. I don't know what to think or feel about it. I'm going to go to the funeral. I hope to make the visitation too.

How hot was it?

It is 82 degrees in my office right now. EIGHTY TWO DEGREES!!