139) The Significance of 300

The number 300 is significant, indeed.  It is the total number of points in a perfect bowling game.  There are approximately 300 steps (more like 306) that lead to the top of The Temple of Dawn, an impressive structure that graces the banks of the Chao Phraya in Bangkok.  There were 300 Spartans who bravely defended the city against foreign invaders.   According to the crappy movie, all 300 died.  Supposedly 300 is the number of popes and antipopes that would gather throughout history, according to the Roman Catholic Church, before the second arrival of the Christ.

But more importantly, 300 is the milestone page I reached last night on my novel.  I have written 300+ pages on other projects in the past, but for some reason last night felt special.  Perhaps it is because these 300 pages were written by a writer, while the previous projects were written by an advertising guy in his spare time.

138) If you like writing, cats ain't for you...

Do you know how difficult it is to write when you live with cats?  If you do, then this post may be redundant for you.  If you do not, allow me to retort.

Writing is a gigantic pain in the ass when you live with cats!  Any time I sit at my computer, they sprint toward me and jump on the table I am writing at.  So I move to the couch.  They sprint to the couch and jump in my lap where I am writing.  So I move a desk in the spare bedroom and close the door.  They sprint down the hallway just outside the door and meow.  One of them sticks her furry little paws underneath the door and jiggles it non stop.  Seriously non stop.  I have to get up and run her off, which pisses the dog off.  The dog barks and chases the cat, which gives me enough time to write about a sentence and a half (if the sentence is already started in my head) before the cat jiggles the door again.

So to compensate I have been doing much of my writing at a local library or the nearest 1/2 priced books.  Both are good locations.  Both are free from cats.  When I finish this first novel I will have to acknowledge the local library and the 1/2 priced books simply because I have 2 annoying cats!

Did you know that Hemingway lived with like 30 cats?  He loved them.  Maybe my problem is that I have too few cats...

137) Cat and Mouse

A game of Cat & Mouse opened up in front of me as I wrote quietly at a library table.  A bum off the street took a bible from the bookshelf and sat next to me.  He dropped two large bags beneath the table, as far as I could see they were filled with plastic and aluminum garbage, no doubt collected so that he might exchange them for change.  His odor crept across the table like the mist in Stephen King's short story.

A man approached the table and said rather loudly, "Uh-uh!  Not today!"  The man collected the bible from the tabletop and bore his eyes so deeply into the bum that he could do nothing but slink away behind a row of shelves.  I remained seated, bathed in his lingering smell, wondering if the bum will return for his belongings.

The man noticed that I watched the situation with the curiosity of a small child.  It is likely that he thought I watched with a judging eye.  He bore his eyes in my direction, obviously irritated that any part of his job included running a bum out of the public library.  I did not judge.  I feel like I understand the situation perfectly.  One has no place to go, and when it is cold outside any shelter is good shelter.  The other has the integrity of the library to look after.  He is paid to keep this place running so that interested citizens have a place to study and read.

The mouse returned with a book on Christianity.  He read while standing up.  Easier to run away.  The mist closed in once again.  He read, but more accurately he watched.  He watched and waited for the cat who will be coming directly.

136) A New Adventure

Embarking on a new adventure in the form of a new novel project.  I've had a few ideas milling around my imagination for awhile now, but honed in on a specific one and have begun getting pages down.  I plan to share various tidbits from the writing of this new project and will begin by sharing a handful of the ideas that will not get explored.  They are:

• Genie in an Acura - a modern day wishing genie story.  Would be completely sarcastic and dark. The genie would have been an asshole driving around in an Acura, promising things to people and sometimes delivering.  
• Crazy Cat Woman story - a woman lives in a house surrounded by stray cats.  They meow and scurry about her house like she is opening cans of tuna at all hours of the day.  No one comes to visit because she is the crazy cat woman.  And then one day she leaves her house (probably to get more kitty litter) and there are no cats.  She does not know what happened to them.  She is sad.  She does not know what to do with herself.  Because of her new found silence and free time she devotes her life to finding a man and embarking on a new career.  For her, she learns that she has an eccentric and outgoing personality that had been stifled by the presence of too many cats.  She becomes a radio personality or something.  And she falls in love.  Not sure, but I think the ending was going to be something like the man breaks her heart and she slumps back into her house.  The next morning all the cats returned and she is once again the crazy cat lady.  (Sound like a fun read?)  
• Boxing novella - This would follow 3 young UFC fighters training in a small town gym.  To make money they also run hour long classes (like cross fit) where the smallest fighter is the town's favorite instructor.  He makes friends and he trains people to get stronger, but he wants to be a fighter.  Yet, every amateur fight he participates in ends with him getting beat badly.  He is simply too small.  There is more to this story, but i do not want to go into here, because I may one day write this one.  It has potential in ways the catwoman and genie stories do not!
• Union Murder project - When the unions first formed, there were epic struggles between the working class and big business.  This story takes place in a camp formed by thousands of on strike workers who refused to work, but also built camps surrounding the factory to make sure no one else could work either.  It was an extremely hostile environment.  A murder occurs and there is a separate investigation that leads the inspector through the various layers of early american society.  In the end, the murder was over a drunken quarrel involving things said about another man's wife.  

You will just have to wait and see what story trumped all those fabulous ideas!!! 

135) Why Whiskey Is Not Always Good

A friend of mine from college posted a video on FB of him jumping a fiery rope on the beach after drinking much whiskey.  I cannot find a link to share, as the video is definitely worth watching.  I will be looking and will eventually find it.  Until then, enjoy the two photos that still tell the story.

134) Hardy and Cody's Most Excellent Adventure

Last night I learned a lot.  I learned that Joan of Arc was not Noah's wife.  I learned that Napoleon was not a good bowler.  I learned that Sigmund Freud was bit of a geek and Beethoven was exceptionally good at cleaning windows.

But more importantly, I learned that you do not want Cody cutting your hair...

133) IDs and Boats

As a child I spent many hours riding on the boat my parent's bought for our house on Lake Livingston. One particular ride stands out in my mind right now.  It was a typical weekend and we drove the boat to our subdivision marina where I jumped out of the truck and helped Joe back the trailer into the water.   Together we pushed the boat from the trailer where he started the thing and parked it near the dock for the family to get in.  This was my favorite part of our process.  I got to drive the truck and the trailer out of the water and park it in the lot next to the marina.  All by myself!

We cruised out of the marina in search for smooth waters for skiing and inner-tubing.  We had two options, in front of the park near our house or out by the dam.  Joe liked going out by the dam even though it was a little farther from our marina.  Gave us a chance to ride for a little while before the cluster that was getting the family up on skis.

About halfway out we discovered that the boat was taking on water.  LOTS of water.  Joe's first thought was that we hit something.  We looked along the edge of the boat and wondered if perhaps the problem was on the bottom where we could not see.  We lifted the back seats near the engine and discovered that the the back half of the boat was definitely sinking.  To trouble shoot we decided to head back toward the marina at a slow enough speed to help slow the pace of which the water entered the boat.  Mom and I used cups to bail water.  Stephen was extremely young and he sat at the front of the boat.  Suddenly, the engine sputtered and then stopped.  The water caused the thing to stop running, and Joe could not get it started again.

Mild panic set in.  Mom worried that we would not be able to swim in because Stephen and I were still young.  Joe worried about losing our boat.  I remember being scared and hating the feeling that there was nothing we could do but sit and bail water, hopefully faster than it was coming in.  Another family drove by and we honked our horn.  They approached us, tied a rope between our boats and dragged us back to the marina before our boat sank.  I remember the boat twisting in turning, feeling like it was going to turn over because of the awkward physics involved in towing a speed boat with an angular front.

We made it back ok and as we pulled the boat out of the water we learned that we forgot to put the plug in the boat and water was simply coming in through the little hole just below the engine.  Such a small thing, but obviously very important.  For the next several years Stephen would ask if Joe remembered to put the plug in the boat.  I bet he still, to this day wonders about the plug before getting into any boat.

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This last weekend we flew to California.  L. and I travel well together save for one thing.  She likes to arrive at the airport as the plane is pulling away from the terminal, whereas I like to arrive early enough to lazily check baggage, go through security and rest for 15 minutes before boarding.  For this trip, she did a great job packing and getting ready so that we arrived an hour and fifteen minutes early, plenty of time to get through everything with no stress.  Yet, as I parked the car and climbed onto the park and ride van, I realized I did not have my ID.  You MUST have your ID to travel.

I told L. I did not have my ID, forcing us to get off the van in front of many people who instantly realized that we missed our plane and would have the hassle of figuring out additional plans.  We got back in the car and decided to hurry back home to get it.  On the way, L. would see about finding another flight for us to take.  She called the AA helpline that confirmed our flight info before assigning a service rep.  The recording claimed that our flight had been delayed by 1 hour.  L. called again to make sure.  The recording confirmed that our flight was set to leave 1 hour later than originally planned.

It was a Thursday morning at 8:30a.  We needed to be at the baggage check in by 9:30.  The airport is roughly 30 minutes away when there is no traffic.  Thursday mornings at 8:30a there is mucho traffic.  I hauled ass all the way home.  L. laughed each time she thought about the stupidity that is me leaving my wallet at home.  I shook my head and fought back being super pissed.

I drove like a crazy person.  Very dangerous and probably should have gotten several tickets.  On the way, we arranged for the airport valet to meet us at the baggage check so that we could get out of our car and run our luggage up to the counter...which we did.  The woman behind the counter tried to tell us that we could not check our bags, but we insisted that our flight had been delayed.  Her manager confirmed and we barely made our flight.  It was an extremely stressful hour, one that I would never like to repeat.  EVER!

Now the only question is, how many years will have to hear L. ask me each time we travel if I have my ID?

PS...I wanted to title this post, IDs and Boat Plugs, but then I thought there was a chance you would think this post was about something completely different.