Have yourself a very different Christmas...

Most of you who read my blog are friends of mine on Facebook, so you may have read a couple of status updates that I posted on Christmas Day this year. But I'll recap those here and see if I can offer any kind of explanation.

Per tradition, we spend Christmas Eve at my mom's house in North Hollywood, about 45 miles from our house. She has food for us, and gifts are exchanged. These days I go on my own, but sometimes Diana comes along if she doesn't have plans or has the evening off. This year she was busy, so it was just me.

I stopped by home to turn on lights, then locked up and headed to Mom's. The evening went fine, and just after 1am I decided to head home. All was well till I got home and discovered that I did not have my house keys. I searched the car, nothing. Diana was at a friend's for the night, and a text message to her went unanswered.

Even though it was going on 3am, I called my mom, hoping someone there would still be up. My mom answered, but sounded a bit groggy (I'm sure I woke her). I explained what happened, and she looked through all the places I had been sitting. Nothing. She did say that if I couldn't reach Diana that I could go back to her place and sleep on the couch. And she'd leave the front door unlocked for me.

After some thought, I decided to go back down there to look through the house myself. Before going, I noticed that I had 1/8 of a tank of gas, so I'd have to fill up. While I filled up my car I looked across the street at 7-Eleven and decided to get a soda there before hitting the road.

It took about 45 minutes to get back to Mom's, and I got there about 4am. I took one of my small LED flashlights in with me and looked everywhere to no avail. My keys weren't in the house. I locked the door behind me and decided to see if my keys might be on the grass.

A little searching with the light eventually revealed some familiar looking keys a few feet from the driveway. Sure enough, they were mine. The only thing missing was the little locomotive, a part of the keychain. I looked a little for that, but decided to wait till I was back down there next time. The important thing was that I had my keys.

I got back home about 6am and brought everything in after getting the door open. When I set down my cup from 7-Eleven, I saw the locomotive from my keychain. I figured that it must have come apart at home and Diana found it when she stopped by after I had left. Just like I thought...

Going to bed at 6:30am without a shower was no fun, but I needed to sleep. I managed to get up just before noon on Christmas Day. Diana came by later and we filled each other in as to how we spent our Christmas Eve. She said that she found the locomotive from my keychain on the front porch and left it where I normally set down my drinks so I'd find it.

Needless to say, I'm going to be more careful with my stuff in the future. Christmas (and Christmas Eve) should be a relaxing time, not a frantic search for things that shouldn't have been lost in the first place. I just need to get my act together.

Merry Christmas to all!

Writing challenge, Day 31: epilogue

Ladies and gentlemen, the 30-Day Writing Challenge is over and done! (The way I write, maybe it was overdone and should be done over.) Leave it to me to make a 31-day event out of one that was supposed to have been only 30 days. That means I've left yet another borken thing in my wake. [rolls eyes]

In my wreck-ollection, I don't think I've ever written an epilogue, so please excuse the liberties that I've taken here with regard to rambling and word fabrication. I'm thankful that an epilogue has nothing to do with logs as I know little about them, except that they're like giant cylinders of wood or something.

But was the Challenge a success? That's for you dear, sweet readers to decide. I'm not taking a poll, nor am I expecting anyone to fill out a survey. Your thoughts are yours to keep or share as you wish. I've posted the link to this epilogue on my Facebook page just like I did for each post during the last 30 days, so you may leave a comment there if you wish to share any thoughts.

There were a couple of topics that I didn't complete for one reason or another. I noted that in those posts. But at some point, I'll address them appropriately.

Thank you all for reading and providing feedback whenever you did. And a special thanks to Terri Anderson for giving me this opportunity to do some writing that just might have given my blog a fresh start. The jumper cables sure haven't worked...

Writing challenge, Day 30: something I'm excited for

Most people who know me already know that it's pretty rare that I get jump-up-and-down-slap-happy-giddy about anything. If I won millions in the lottery, I'd likely respond with a nice, calm "Cool." And that's all. I've been like that most of my life, and I doubt it will change anytime soon. At some point, I'll write a series of blog posts about the hows and whys of my ways.

What kinds of things would get me excited? My daughter getting married or having a child? Someone finding a cure for diabetes? The world's biggest roller coaster opening at Magic Mountain, just 40 miles away? My blog going viral and landing me a lucrative job and worldwide attention? Some of those things would lift my spirits a notch or three, but if I had to choose, I'll say it's Diana getting her Bachelors degree in Psychology.

Diana has really kicked things up a few notches in the education department over the last few years. As many of us know, it's hard to work and go to school at the same time. Diana was recently promoted to an assistant manager where she works and is trying to finish her studies at Ventura College before going on to Cal State Channel Islands. At this point, we don't know whether she plans to go further and get her Masters or PhD.

But "Dr. Diana" does have a nice ring to it.

The 30-Day Writing Challenge is officially over as of today's post. But I'll wrap it up with an epilogue of sorts next time. Stay tuned...

Writing challenge, Day 29: the night of my 21st birthday

Friday, August 1, 1980. The day I turned 21. Here in the U.S., most people spend the first 20 years and 364 days of their lives waiting for the day when they can legally consume an alcoholic beverage. But, as I've said enough times to drill it into your heads, leaving you with a lifetime of nightmares and bedwetting...say it with me..."I'M NOT LIKE REGULAR PEOPLE!!1!"

Now that we've gotten that out of your system (not mine because...never mind), let's get down to business.

My 21rd birthday was not memorable in any way. I don't have a clue as to what I did because it was so long ago, so let's try to piece it together. It was a Friday, so I'm sure I went to work. Very likely, a few of my co-workers took me out to lunch, but no shenanigans like excess alcohol or dancing on the tables because...work. They sort of frown on things like that.

Later on at home, per family tradition, we went out to dinner at a restaurant of the celebrant's choosing. At the time, I really liked a Mexican restaurant called "El Gato" out in Van Nuys on Sepulveda just north of Sherman Way (it's long gone now). Everyone in our family was there except for my older brother Mark. If memory serves, he was living out on Catalina at that time and unable to make it.

El Gato was a bit more expensive than most Mexican restaurants at the time. I recall Dad grumbling about how expensive things were. While I had not planned to have a margarita or anything else alcoholic anyway, I definitely wasn't going to now. We got through dinner and went back home. I don't recall whether the mariachis sang to me or whether we had cake at the restaurant or at home. Those details are long lost from my memory.

The next post will be Day 30 of the 30-Day Writing Challenge, and it will be about something I'm excited for. Stay excituned for it.

Writing challenge, Day 28: the word/phrase I use most often

It's probably a good thing that I use profanity very sparingly. I wouldn't like having to write about that. During the course of the writing challenge, I've written a little about things that I say. Some of those things are kind of...interesting, to say the least---like the words or phrases I've made up. Those do get a fair amount of use, but not so much that everyone knows what I'm going to say.

So let me quit stalling and get to this before your coffee gets cold and your eyes glaze over. After some thought and a dinner of leftover Thanksgiving food and a trip to Lowe's with the Mrs. to look for a new microwave oven, I've made my choice.

I'm always saying "hopefully." Is that such a bad thing? Yes and no. On the yes side, saying "hopefully" doesn't give your listeners an air of confidence. You're always hoping that something will happen, but not necessarily taking the steps and/or action to make it happen. In short, it can sound a little wishy washy.

On the no side, there are times when all you can do is hope. If the good happens, great. If not, then it wasn't your time. Plain and simple.

Hopefully you understand what I mean.

Coming up next time will be a memory from 1980. Stay in the room.

Writing challenge, Day 27: what I wore today

Some people live for fashion. Clothing is their world. For me, clothing serves to hide my body from the eyes of poor, innocent folks as well as the police. A pair of Levi's 501s, a T-shirt, and my walking shoes will generally do for most of what I do anymore. I do get dressed up when I have a casino party to work, a wedding or funeral to attend, or a Sunday church service when I go.

Today for Thanksgiving, I got dressed as I described above, being that dinner at Mom's is a fairly casual affair. Had I shown up dressed to the nines, I'd probably have been laughed right out of the house since everyone else was dressed to the threes---which is OK by me. Threes work just fine.

Not only was I decked out in genuine, Chinese-made Levi's 501s with my Reebok DMX walking shoes, but I raised the bar a notch with a long sleeved sweatshirt with various embroidered Disney characters riding a roller coaster on the pocket and just above it. (Lori found that shirt at The Disney Store a long time ago and I rediscovered it fairly recently in my closet while looking for a shirt to wear.)

Try not to laugh, but here is a shot of me wearing the previously described ensemble. Zoom in to see the details of the embroidery. And ignore my giant belly; I just finished eating Thanksgiving dinner.

For my next trick, I'll tell you about a word or phrase I use often. Stay awake...

Writing challenge, Day 26: things you'd say to an ex

Unlike many people, I don't have a lot of "exes." When I reached dating age, I didn't do a lot of dating. Long story on that, but I'll spare all of you the horror for now and address that in a future post.

For the sake of the challenge, though, what would I say to an ex? Absolutely nothing. You read that correctly---nothing. The easy road is to get up in their face and give them the kind of tongue lashing that they won't like. Yeah, letting out your frustrations is good for you, so say doctors and counselors. But for the person on the receiving end, one thing even worse than a barrage of insults is...silence.

Why is that? No one knows what you're thinking when you say nothing, and that can be scary. Surely you have something to say about the breakup or its aftermath. You must! Most people do and will be more than happy to tell you, but not me. The silence will eat at them more than they think. Almost like killing them with kindness. Not very nice, really, but as I always say, I'm not like regular people. I should trademark that saying...

At some point, though, I would likely sit down with said ex and have a reasonable discussion to clear the air. The yelling and screaming and insults just don't cut it with me. That's not how I do things.

Next time, I'll tell you all about what I wore that day. Gather round, friends and fashionistas alike. Stay groomed.

Writing challenge, Day 25: four weird traits you have

Wow...only four traits? Looks like it's time to play Process of Elimination---The Home Game once again. But give me a little time and I'll choose my four weirdest ones for your enjoyment.

Before I dish out the sleeping pills, let me define "traits" in this case. Normally, a trait is something like your hair or eye color. Your height. How well you see or hear. None of those things are weird in my case.

However... (there's always a "however," huh?) ...that doesn't mean that there's nothing weird on Eric's Planet. There's enough of that to go around the equator a few times and then some. So instead of "traits," let's go with "quirks." Besides, that'll make for better reading. Now let's quit the stalling and get to it. As usual, in no particular order...

Counting stairs. Weird indeed and why do I do this? I've been doing it since I was a kid. It might have been a subliminal challenge to myself to find the longest single-story flight of stairs or the tallest floor. Who really knows? But it could come in handy someday when I'm in a fire and need to get down a flight of stairs. I'll know just how many steps I'll need to take before I reach the bottom.

Driving vehicles with as many engine/transmission combinations as I can. This may take the prize for the weirdest trait/quirk of all time. Or maybe just take the cake. What does this mean? I'll try to explain... in the amusement park hobby, people try to ride as many different carousels, sky rides, roller coasters, etc. as they can. Each new one ridden is what's known as a "credit." I do log each new coaster I ride, but don't keep track of how many rides I've taken on it.

With this quirk, I'm trying to drive a vehicle with a two-cylinder engine, a three-cylinder, four-cylinder, and so forth. Also, I'm going after one with a two-speed automatic, three-speed automatic, and so on. Fuel: gasoline, diesel, hybrid, electric, etc. I think you get the picture (and are probably calling the police already...).

Elevators and Escalators--The Rides. Most people climb aboard one of these contraptions to move up or down a floor or 25. That makes perfect sense, being that these were invented for just that purpose. Not surprisingly, I approach these a bit...differently than regular folks.

As a kid, I was fascinated with our local May Co. store. It was a huge department store with five levels. That meant taking four escalators from the basement to the fourth floor, and four more to get back down. I don't know what it was with escalators. They're actually fairly complicated mechanical things, and I've always liked watching mechanical things in action. To this day, I'm still fascinated by these, though I no longer go to department stores just to ride them anymore.

As for the elevators, I liked the tickle in my tummy when they went down fast. The ones at May Co. were pretty quick. What a ride that was when you went from top to bottom non-stop!

Yes, I talk to myself. No, a little bird didn't tell you---I did! Too many times I've been thinking about something, and I ended up verbalizing it. I wish I had a dollar for each time someone in my household called out to me, "Did you say something?" Or "What?" Again, it's one of those things that I've done since childhood. And there's probably no cure for it.

Next time, I'll come up with some things that I would say to an ex-girlfriend. Better pull those lap bars down an extra notch...or two.

Writing challenge, Day 24: something you miss

"Something you miss." Those three words could set off a firestorm of memories. There are so many things that are long gone, but I wish were still here. So I'm going to have to think about this for a bit. Since my dietitian commanded me to go out and walk, let me do that and come back to this.

OK, so two-and-a-half miles later, and I managed to think about everything but this. So I'll just choose something—and it won't be some kind of food.

I miss...the North Hollywood I grew up in. When I was a kid, we spent a lot of time driving up and down Lankershim Blvd. for a number of reasons: going to and from church, to visit our grandparents, to get to the El Portal theater to see movies. We did much of our clothes shopping at Penney's and Sears in the Valley Plaza. We went out for birthday dinners at Van de Kamp's or Rusty's Hacienda. We did our bowling at Starlite Lanes. We played miniature golf at Golfland or the little Bartmus course on Riverside Dr. I got many of my Hot Wheels cars at Rathbun's Toy Center on Lankershim in the area we called "uptown" (between Magnolia and Chandler). I don't know why we called it "uptown," but...whatever.

Going somewhere besides North Hollywood was rare, but if we did, it was over to Burbank or Van Nuys. It didn't matter where we went, coming back to North Hollywood meant that we were home.

Thriftimart. TG&Y. DeMayo's Italian grocery. Schaber's Cafeteria. Auditory Odyssey. All of these were places I went as a kid.

For many years, I figured that I would always live in North Hollywood. Sometime in the '80s, that feeling began to change. Little by little, the North Hollywood that I knew was beginning to disappear, bit by bit. The huge redevelopment of the center of town began to fall into place. Before long, places once familiar were being torn down and replaced. Sometimes places were torn down and left vacant. Even today there are scars of projects abandoned or delayed.

I could go on about where North Hollywood is today, but I prefer to remember the "good old days." What a great thing it would be to have a time machine so we could enter a year and transport ourselves and a few friends or loved ones to relive a day in our past; to experience a simpler time once again.

If you already think I'm a little over the edge, you might think I'm all the way over after tomorrow's post. Four weird traits of mine. Hmmm...think you can handle it? Stay tuned...

Writing challenge, Day 23: a family member you dislike

I don't know anyone who doesn't have someone in their family that they don't like very much. It could be a sibling, a parent, an aunt or uncle or a cousin, or just about anyone. The reasons are as varied as ever. Oftentimes, things that happened during childhood are never really forgotten or resolved, and the underlying issues can fester for many years. Then the family members involved remain in a lifelong stalemate. Loads of fun for...no one.

In my case, I do have a couple of family members whose habits or behavior drive me up one wall and down another. I could write some stories or maybe even a book. When I saw this entry on the list, I cringed a bit. Who would I hang up and beat in public? I could have one heck of a good time with this. However, in complete contradiction to Day 23 of the Writing Challenge, I'm not going to air my dirty laundry out in public. The potential for permanently altering or destroying a relationship is a risk greater than I want to take.

Call me a chicken or a coward if you must, but preserving my family relationships is more important than dishing out some dirt for the sake of a few laughs, "Likes" on Facebook, or pats on the back.

For next time, I'll share a few thoughts on something I miss. Don't miss it.

Writing challenge, Day 22: your morning routine

My morning routine. In my case it should have been called "your afternoon routine" because it's not unusual anymore for me to wake up sometime after noon. But that can be expected when you go to bed between 3am and 4am, and it takes more than an hour to get to sleep. One time I'm going to write about that, but I'll save it for later.

For the sake of today's entry, I'll pick a random Wednesday. That way, this entry will stay morningish rather than afternoonlike. I wake up about 7:30, get dressed, grab a banana, and head out to my car. I pick up the newspapers and head out to the West Simi Job and Career Center. There, I attend the meeting of my OPEN group. I think I've written about OPEN before, but a little refresher...it stands for Outstanding Professionals Employment Network; it's my networking group. I'm on the Administrative Committee, which oversees the weeklong workshops and preparation for the group's Wednesday and Friday meetings. I make a pot of coffee, put out napkins, cups, utensils, sweetener, teabags, and a couple of pitchers of water. The Executive Committee meets from 9 to 10, our individual committees meet from 10 to 11, and our guest speaker begins his/her presentation at 11. These presentations run till about 12:30, at which time our comittee puts everything away and cleans up the room to its pre-meeting condition. Then I'm off to lunch and my afternoon.

Interesting morning, huh? Next time I'll discuss a family member that I'm not too fond of. That ought to be...interesting.

Writing challenge, Day 21: your zodiac/horoscope and whether you think it fits you

To be honest, I really don't follow my horoscope. I've always written it off as pure, unadulterated balderdash. If what it says does actually coincide with what does happen, then it's by coincidence and nothing else. There really isn't much else I can say.

As for my zodiac symbol, however, my August 1 birthday makes me a Leo. The king of beasts. A big, giant kitty cat. I do like cats. Some say that I'm quiet and mysterious like a cat. Quiet, that is, until something sets me off. Then you'll hear a roar like none you've ever heard, and you'll sit up and take notice. I am not so much a king, though that's one meaning of my name. But definitely a beast. Most anyone who's dealt with me would agree, I think.

It looks like you'll get a look at my morning routine next time. Set your alarm...

Writing challenge, Day 20: put your music player on shuffle and write the first three songs that play and what your initial thought is.

That title isn't a mouthful or anything. And what music player? An iPod? A cassette player? CDs? Records? I suspect they're referring to one of those portable electronical thingies that most people have nowadays. Well, I'm not a "most," so I don't have one. Strange, really, because I like the latest, greatest, up-to-datest electronic gadgets. And yet I still ran ancient old Windows XP on my computer. It worked, and I liked it. But as I always say, I'm not like regular people.

If my computer was working, I could fire up YouTube and go through my playlist there. But, alas, it's in critical condition and may be heading to the big e-waste bin in the sky real soon.

Sad to say, I'll need to take a raincheck on this one until I can figure out how I'm going to do it. Keep an eye peeled for a Day 20 sequel.

Next time, we'll look into my horoscope and/or astrological symbol. It'll be the cat's meow.

Writing challenge, Day 19: five fears that you have

As I hinted at the bottom of the last post, I do indeed have a fear or five in this life. It's really hard not to these days. You'd be quite surprised at how many big, strong, macho guys have things that give them the willies or, at the very least, make them very uncomfortable. I don't have the "big, strong, macho" part, but fears...indeed. Here are five of mine, listed in no particular order.

Being in a plane crash. Or a train wreck, or a bus crash. Point being that while many of those incidents are surviveable, many are not. Accidents involving ground transportation vehicles can, of course result in many injuries and fatalities, but because they occur quickly, there's little time to contemplate the outcome. In a plane crash, passengers usually know that they're going down, giving them time for their lives to flash before their eyes and to know that they may never see loved ones again. Movies have dramatized this, but I believe the reality isn't too far off. The thought of leaving my loved ones behind in any way isn't a pleasant one.

Thunder and lightning. Most people I know love thunder and lightning. My Grandma Long was said to open the curtains so she could watch the celestial light show. Where I got my fear of it is a mystery to me. Thunder can be quite loud as we all know. I don't like loud. Maybe that's why I'm not a fan of rock concerts. Since thunder follows lightning, a flash of it means that some loud noise will follow.

Losing my daughter. I have always thought that losing a child is one of the worst things that a parent could experience. Diana is my only child, and we have always had a special relationship. I cannot imagine life without her. Next summer she's planning a trip to Europe with a good friend. There are always risks involved during such a trip, and recent events in Paris don't exactly make me feel comfortable with her going. All I can do is pray for their safety and hope that their trip is memorable as well as safe.

Running out of money. Like so many people, I have little saved for the future. Whatever I get from Social Security won't go far. My hope is that I can continue to do something that will provide an income. If I'm busy working at 75 years old, it's OK if I'm doing something I enjoy.

Losing a body part. That's a nice way of saying "amputation." As everyone from here to Timbuktu knows, I'm diabetic. As a child, I feared getting diabetes because I didn't want to lose my toes, feet, eyesight, etc. As I've learned, those things don't necessarily happen, especially if you take good care of yourself and manage your condition. Of course, I could just as well be involved in some sort of accident and lose something. That could be why I'm so careful when I drive or operate power tools.

Next time, I'll crank up my iPod or equivalent and have some fun with music. Stay in tune...

Writing challenge, Day 18: your favorite color and why

Waaay back when I was a wee li'l boy kid, my favorite color was red. I don't know why. Red just appealed to me, I guess. My older brother Mark always seemed to like blue. If anyone gave us something, Mark got a blue one and I got a red one. It was like that for a long time.

At some point, I started liking other colors; blue and purple among them. Interesting choices because if you mix blue and red, you get purple. When all is said and done, I liked almost any color except yellow. I don't know why that is. Yellow is a bright, happy color; it's the color of bananas (which I love), and it was one of the colors of my much admired RTD buses here in the greater Los Angeles area. Sometimes you just have to let a mystery remain a mystery.

For the sake of the Writing Challenge, I'll say that red is still my favorite color. My hair is actually a shade of red/brown, though nowadays there's less of that and more gray. Red is exciting; it has fun written all over it. I like to go fast; red is speed. But when you get all caught up in the excitement and speed of red, it's a light or a sign of the same color that brings you to a halt. Good time to catch your breath and get ready for more.

Some people say that I look good in red. At the risk of patting myself on the back hard enough to get a bruise, I will agree.

Next time, I'll own up to five fears that I have. You think a guy who rides those crazy roller coasters fears nothing? Think again...

Writing challenge, Day 17: a quote you try to live by

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.
— ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Many people, myself included, have always attributed this quote to Mark Twain, but a little research indicated that good ol' Honest Abe actually said it first.

Most people who know and tolerate me would agree that I'm a rather quiet person by nature. Throughout my life I've never had very much to say. Some of my teachers wrote notes on my progress reports like, "Eric is so quiet I can't tell he's there. I've almost marked him absent!" And it's still true today.

I'm an observer, a people watcher if you will. Always have been. It's been said that all the world's a stage. All seven billion people who call this planet home are in that production called "life," and many really take their roles to heart. Unfortunately, a lot of those folks have the gift of gab, and too many of them have apparently had that gift super-sized. I've learned that some people not only run at the mouth, but their mouths runneth over.

The trouble is that what is said cannot be unsaid. Sad to say, a lot of these loquacious folks—too many by my observation—will brew up a verbal storm and dump it right on your doorstep, leaving you in its wake. No facts, nothing to back it up, just "here's what I think, and I'm right."

On the other side of the coin, sometimes it's better to speak rather than to remain silent. This is where we have to use our heads. Strange as it may seem, this quiet person has lent some common sense to an issue on a few occasions when you would have least expected it. Sometimes, you have to.

Next time, I'll discuss my favorite color and why it is. Stay hued.

Writing challenge, Day 16: bullet your entire day

Sometimes I'd like to bullet my day with real bullets. Many of us who are unemployed don't have much of a day, so today's post may be fairly short. Here you go:

● Wake up, struggle out of bed (there's a story about that), get dressed, brush teeth, take medication, grab something for breakfast. Actual sequence may vary.

● Greet Chimi before going out or risk serious bodily harm.

● Collect newspapers from driveway. Yes, I still read two daily newspapers. I know that's sooo 20th Century, but for me it's relaxing, and I get a Jumble puzzle to do and comics to read. I don't do the crossword puzzle because I'll end up saying some cross words...

● Tend to any errands or business.

● Grab lunch somewhere. For me, going out to lunch is a time-honored tradition. Sure, I could save some money by eating at home, but food at home gets...eh...after awhile. But I keep it cheap. No sides, no desserts.

● Continue any errands/business if any.

● Catch a nap if possible.

● Return home about 6. Make something for dinner.

● Turn on computer to surf the web or write anything that I need to write.

● Feed Chimi about 11 for same reason as morning greeting.

● Turn off computer, take shower, wait for clearance to go to bed (another story), struggle back into bed, find comfy spot to avoid glare from the light shining in my face and be a safe distance from where the bed ends so I don't fall off (you guessed it, another story).

● Hope and pray that I can get to sleep before 4am. Some days, that's a tall order.

Sounds like fun, huh?

Tomorrow, I'll present a quote that I try to live by. It might be a famous quote, or it might be something that I say so often that it seems like a quote. Stay tuned.

Writing challenge, Day 15: three pet peeves

Only three? Looks like I have a lot of narrowing down to do. It's kind of funny how such a quiet, easygoing guy like me has so many things that bug him. I try not to let things get the better of me, but sometimes...grrr...

In no particular order, here you go:

Tailgaters. Driving in Southern California is hard enough, but it's just that much tougher when the guy behind you is trying to make love to your rear bumper. I really don't understand why some people need to be that close. There is no room for error. If the guy in front of me stops suddenly, I can usually stop safely (though hard). But the tailgater has to swerve all over to avoid hitting me. They know that they will be held responsible in the event of a collision, and yet they never learn.

People who are so busy trying to be cool that they act and/or sound like fools. You've seen them---the guys whose pants are sagging like they have a load in them. People who call our state "Cali." What if we called your state "Texi" or "Flori"? I could go on, but you get the idea. The good thing about this is that such people often bring a little revenge onto themselves: like when Mr. Saggypants's pants fall the rest of the way down, or when Ms. Coolspeak is so hard to understand that her food order is all mixed up. It's not always easy to listen to Garblese over a drive-thru speaker.

When I'm sitting alone in a quiet corner of an empty restaurant and someone (or a giant family) comes in and sits right next to or behind me. I am a quiet and generally solitary person. I like my personal space. If I want to be with someone, I will be. I don't like people sitting behind me because most of them can't sit still or they get up and sit down repeatedly. And most of those seats send the impact or movement through to the other side. In a few cases I've gotten up and moved to a different table (or asked the server if I could). This peeve is largely an Eric issue, not something that others do intentionally to annoy me. But it still does.

For tomorrow's reading displeasure, I'm going to take aim at a day in the life of...me. Stay doomed.

Writing challenge, Day 14: your life in seven years

Seven years from now it will be 2022. The '20s. Hopefully it will be a second Roaring '20s with an economy that's booming, where everyone who wants a job will have one. Let's hope that unlike the last decade we called "the Roaring '20s," this one doesn't end in a depression. We've had enough of that.

But today's post is supposed to be what I think my life will be like in seven years. That means I get to play fortune teller. Keep in mind that if you want your palm read by me, you'll get a nice coat of red paint all over it. Just remember who you're dealing with.

Speculation is the key word here, but first some facts. In 2022 I will celebrate my 63nd birthday. My car will be 20 years old (I drive them a long time; remember my Day 4 post). We'll have just six more years on our mortgage. Diana will be in her early thirties. We'll still be waiting for flying cars and hoverboards.

Now for the fun part: speculation. I got sick and tired of looking for work and not finding anyone willing to hire me, so I created my own job. Companies like a person that they can hire for the duration of a project and no longer. And if you're good, you can name your price. I earn an average of $100/hour for my writing. I've been lucky to get in with some new-to-Ventura County employers. Most weeks I work 40-50 hours, but I enjoy it so it flies by. My blog went viral and a developer wants to build a theme park called "Eric's Planet" with me as a consultant. All of the bills are paid, the mortgage is no more. I don't like the idea of retiring because I'm enjoying my work so much. I can write on a cruise ship, can't I? But where are the damned flying cars and hoverboards?!?!?

Next time, I'll vent a little about three pet peeves. Stay fumed.

Writing challenge, Day 13: your commute to/from school/work/etc.

As I've pointed out a hundredy-twelve times, I am currently not employed. I'm also not going to school, so technically my commute is to etc., whatever that may be. That doesn't mean that I don't go anywhere or do anything all day, however. I get to do the things for which working people have to take time off to do---paying bills and fixing stuff around the house among them. But there is no daily commute to speak of.

That doesn't mean that I've never had a commute, however. In my Day 11 post, I mentioned moving to Camarillo from the Valley because I had a 52-mile commute between North Hollywood and Oxnard each day. And that was each way. In 2009, I had a job in Sun Valley which was 47 miles each way. I did technical illustrations of their product line and created catalog pages.

Another time (2007), I had a temporary assignment as a technical writer at a company in Panorama City where they manufactured wheelchair lifts for buses and trains. That was about 46 miles each way when I drove (which I sometimes did), but most days I was able to use Metrolink to get there. The station near home is a mile down the road, so I drove down each morning in time to catch the 6:30 train. On the other end, after a 50-minute ride, it was about a 15-minute walk (3/4 mile) to the office. For me, that was the first time that I was able to take a train from home to work. Some days I was able to catch a few Zs on the way, but I was careful not to sleep too deeply or I'd miss my stop and really be in trouble. Going to work by rail isn't so bad. Especially when you already like trains.

All of my other jobs were 20 miles or less from home, so getting to work was a fairly uneventful trip unless the weather was poor or an accident or other incident had taken place.

Perhaps the best commute of all is the one that Lori takes each morning. She gets up, walks a grueling 40 feet or so all the way to the front bedroom (what we call "the office"), sits down, and fires up her laptop computer. Some days she even gets dressed. I wouldn't mind that.

Tomorrow we'll take a trip seven years into my future to get a glimpse of what my life will be like then. Since that's only about a quarter of the 30 years into the future that Marty McFly went, I'll borrow my friend Ryan's DeLorean and drive it at 22 mph right into the year 2022.

Writing challenge, Day 12: two words/phrases that make you laugh

Most people know that I pretty much laugh at anything. I'm not a loud laugher; more of a quiet, chuckler or smiler. But I do find things funny. For this post, I have to narrow all of the words or phrases that I find funny down to just two. Since I have so many that I find hilarious, paring them down to just two required some thought. Those of you reading may not find these to be funny, but it's my assignment, my choice.

As an officer with the Spelling and Grammar Police force, I try to stay on top of poor English, spelling, etc. Oddly, I find twisting around words, mispronouncing them on purpose, or just making up my own words to be downright funny. Here are a couple of examples:

Back in 10th grade in high school, I had the pleasure of sitting in front of Terri Anderson in our Typing 1 class. We used standard manual typewriters in the class, and in some ways they weren't exactly in the best condition. (Probably left over from the '60s.) Terri referred to our typewriters as being "borken," an obvious twist on the word "broken." To this day, I cannot hear or say the word "borken" without at least a smile. But I try not to overuse it because overuse leads to funny stuff not being funny anymore.

My friend Bill Hackett and I hit it off quickly when we met at a church youth group work camp in 1976. Both of us are intelligent guys with a decent (and clean) sense of humor and a lot in common. We've made up lots of slang terms that are unique to us. These days, we only use a few words of our slanguage. The most popular word of ours is "automo." It's about 2/3 of the word "automobile," which makes sense because its origin lies with that word. Bill used to have old issues of Popular Mechanics from the '30s and '40s that we would read, and we noticed that they tended to refer to cars rather formally as "automobiles" instead of "cars." We came to the conclusion that old cars must be "automobiles." So it stood to reason that old trucks must be "automotrucks." Old buses were "automobuses." And so on. But we took it even further away from sane, and decided that anything old would be "automo-something." An old stove was an "automostove." An old house? An "automohouse." You name it, we could automo-tize it. What did all of those things have in common? The prefix "automo." To us wordsmiths, it made perfect sense for this prefix to stand alone as its own adjective to define anything that was old. Forty years later, we still refer to a lot of old things as being "automo." The beauty of our linguistic creation is that few other people have any idea what the word means, so if we use it around others, the blank or confused looks are priceless. Even better is that Diana knows and understands this word and has used it on a few occasions. She doesn't use it often, but it's pretty funny when she does. It always catches me off guard.

Tomorrow we'll take a look at my commute to work—or wherever it is I go each day. Stay tuned...we'll get there.

Writing challenge, Day 11: your current relationship

Remember a few posts ago when I mentioned that sometime I need to write down the story of my wife and me? Well, it looks like the writing challenge has created a spot for that. While it says "your current relationship," I will also explore the past in order for the present to make any sense. Word of warning: this entry could very well be the longest post of the entire challenge, and even so, it's still a Reader's Digest version of our story. If you choose to dive into this, get yourself a two-pound bag of your favorite snack, a liter or two of your favorite beverage, and a comfy place to sit because you're going to be here awhile—IF you make it to the end. [evil laughter]

I've mentioned that my sister Valerie worked with Lori at the Thrifty Drug store in the Valley Plaza in the early '80s. When she worked there, I used to stop in to say hi, and I remember seeing Lori running around, working and keeping busy. There was nothing about her that made me think, "I'd sure like to take her out, marry her, and have babies with her someday." She seemed nice, though.

One fine Saturday afternoon in August of '83, I was at my folks' house for some reason. While on the phone, I heard a couple of people come in the front door, talking and laughing. I recognized my sister's voice, but not the other one. When I heard them in the kitchen, I poked my head in from the den to see who that unfamiliar voice belonged to. I recognized Lori right away. At the time, it seemed funny that she was in our house; it was one of those "out of their element" moments, like when you saw your fourth grade teacher at the mall because, you know, teachers never go anywhere except their home and the classroom. Lori and Valerie were on their lunch break and came by to borrow a cake pan from Mom to bake a cake for one of their co-workers who was leaving the store for a new job. When Valerie saw me, she told Lori, "That's my other brother!" I just waved to her and smiled so as not to disrupt my call.

My call was finished before Lori and Valerie left to go back to the store, so I went out to the living room by the front door, where they were just about to leave. A few months earlier, I had purchased a new 1983 Toyota Supra (terra cotta red, like a brick). Lori asked me, "Is that your car?" I said yes and she responded with, "Can I get a ride in it?" I said, "Sure. Anytime." They left and headed back to the store, I left and headed out, giving no more thought to the whole conversation.

The following Thursday night, I stopped back at my folks' for some reason. Valerie had gotten off work and stopped by there. When she saw me, she asked, "What are you doing tomorrow night?" I said, "Nothing. Why?" "Lori wants to go out with you." I figured that she just wanted the ride I had promised her in my cool new car, but that was fine. "OK" I said to Valerie, who quickly picked up the same phone that I was talking on when they stopped by the previous Saturday and called Lori at the store. "He'll pick you up at 7." is all I heard. Valerie gave me Lori's address before heading back to her apartment.

All day Friday at work I thought about my date, which was just a few hours away and closing in on me. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do; I figured we'd get something to eat, see a movie; the standard date. After work, I got home, showered, got dressed, and headed up to Sylmar where Lori lived. I pulled up to her folks' place at straight up 7, and went to the door. Lori was all ready and looked nice, and we walked back to my car. Still not sure about plans for the entire time, I started off with "How about getting something to eat...what sounds good?" She said, "Anything is fine."

At the time, there was a cozy Mexican place in Van Nuys called Ana's that I'd been to a few times. We got parked, went inside, got seated and looked over the menu. During dinner, we talked about what we like to do for fun, music we liked, etc. We felt comfortable with each other; it was like being with a good friend. At this point, I still didn't have romantic feelings for her, but I figured at the very least, I had a new friend.

When we left Ana's, we couldn't think of any movies that we wanted to see. Lori suggested that we could go out to Northridge and stop by Brunswick Matador Bowl, where she would have been bowling that night had her team not had a bye. I met a bunch of her friends and fellow bowlers. One friend asked what we were doing on our date, and Lori said that we were just hanging out. This friend suggested taking a drive up Pacific Coast Highway. Sounded good to us, so off we went. Our conversation continued all the way down into Santa Monica and out PCH to Point Mugu.

At that point, we decided to park and walk along the beach. It was a warm, mid-August evening, so we kicked off our shoes and walked on the sand for probably a quarter-mile or so. As we looked out over the ocean, we noticed clouds coming in and it felt like a summer storm was a-brewin'. To be on the safe side, we thought that it was better to get back to the car. Back by the car, we couldn't find our shoes. We looked all over, then thanks to the bright moonlight through the clouds, we finally found them a ways from where we ended up. Apparently we had wandered a bit off course on our way back.

Because it was such a warm night and we were thirsty, we headed into Camarillo to get something to drink for the trip home. I knew that Naugle's was open late so we pulled into the drive-thru and ordered a couple of Cokes. To this day we still remember the car that was receiving its food at the window and managed to drop the whole box between their car and the building. Not funny to them, of course, but we had a good laugh.

I got back on southbound 101, and we stopped by my place before I drove Lori home. My apartment was a bachelor apartment, so my bed was in the living room. I sat on the bed while Lori sat on the couch and we continued talking. At the time I had a digital watch that beeped on the hour. It beeped while we talked, and I said, "It's 1:00. I'd better get you home." But we continued talking till the next beep. "It's 2am. We'd better get going." More talking. *Beep beep* 3am. More talking. *Beep beep* 4am. More talking. *Beep beep* 5am, and the sun was starting to come up. Lori said that I'd really better get her home or else her dad was going to come after me with his samurai sword.

When I got Lori home, it was fully daylight. We got out of the car and I asked her for her phone number. She wrote it down for me, then said goodbye and headed inside. As I said (or implied) in my Writing Challenge Day 3 post, I am not the type who needs a lot of physical affection. A kiss-free date was OK; as I said before, I had a new friend, which was good enough for me.

About a week or two later, I stopped by Thrifty to get a few things. Lori was on the register and I got in her line. She rang me up and even gave me her employee discount. Lori mentioned that after work she was going out to Devonshire Downs for the Ho'olaule'a, an annual Hawaiian craft, food, and entertainment fair that she went to each year (and still does). She said that I could meet her out there if I wanted to.

I went out and met up with her. We wandered around visiting booths, and I met her folks for the first time. Afterward, she suggested that I meet her up at her place (her folks') and we could go from there. After I got there, we went out in the back yard, just talking as usual. At some point, we turned toward each other, stared into each other's eyes and our lips locked for what was our first kiss. We decided then that we were officially "an item."

At one point early in our relationship, Lori confessed that when Valerie called her to tell her that I'd pick her up for our first date, she panicked and spent the day thinking of an excuse to get out of it, but couldn't. She didn't want to go out with me—Valerie came up with that plan on her own!

For nearly two years, we continued dating. We took trips to theme parks, bowling tournaments, Maui, and even took Amtrak to Las Vegas for our own weekend turnaround trip one time. We bowled on a few Las Vegas leagues. The topic of marriage came up a few times, but never got beyond the "possibility" stage. However, that didn't mean that I never thought about it. The more time we spent together and talked about our mutual feelings about raising children, work, education, and so forth made me realize that Lori was special and that a lifetime with her would be an adventure. I got along well with her family and extended family to the extent that they felt like my own.

Late in June 1985, while we sat in my car in her folks' driveway, I asked her to marry me. She said yes, and we went inside to tell her folks. Dad was OK, but Mom didn't seem so sure. She did tell me at some point that I had to ask Dad for Lori's hand in marriage. Mom was serious about it; Dad was like, "Eh, whatever." But soon after, as a formality, I did ask and he said "yes." The race was on—we decided that we were going to get married on September 27, 1986, so we had just 15 months to plan a wedding. We also decided to settle in Camarillo because I had a job in Oxnard at the time and the commute from North Hollywood to Oxnard was 52 miles each way—and a real drag at that. Being a Thrifty employee, she could transfer to a local store, which she eventually did. Now she had a quarter-mile drive to work.

Fast forward, everything went perfectly. We got married at the Congregational Church of the Chimes in Sherman Oaks, in a sanctuary that my grandfather built. Valerie was asked to serve as Lori's maid of honor since our getting together was her doing. My best man was Bill Hackett; my sister Barbara, both of my brothers, and both of Lori's brothers were in the wedding party along with a couple of Lori's friends. Following our nuptial photo session was a great reception in the back yard of some friends of the people who catered the food. There are a few people who still talk about the food we had. It was good stuff! Lori's Grandma Onouye and my Grandma McCormack were able to attend. These were our last surviving grandparents and both were gone within a couple of years of our wedding.

We spent our wedding night at the Bonaventure Hotel in downtown L.A., then we drove up to San Francisco along Highway 1 for our honeymoon with an overnight stop in Solvang on the way.

Three-and-a-half years into our marriage, we welcomed Diana Mari to the family. She was the best baby ever and continues to be a blessing every day at the age of 25.

Sad to say, time has not been good to our relationship (thought I'd never get here, huh?). As is typical with many married couples, we grew apart. We wanted different things, to go different places in life.

After a "soul searching" trip she took, I learned that there had been what I call a "close encounter of the wrong kind" during this trip. It involved an old boyfriend of hers. We went to a few counseling sessions, but to no avail. You might ask, "Why are you still together after all of this?" Some would say to "cut your losses and move on." But my answer is that I feel like we've put way too much into what we have to just let it all go. A third of a century is an awful lot of time and memories to just toss aside. We do have some good days; we still work together on projects around the house. We even took a trip to Yosemite in 2013. (Read about that here.) We're on the same side when it comes to a lot of things. We can still talk to each other and have had some long conversations about things. We're just taking it day by day.

Tomorrow I'll share a couple of words or phrases that make me laugh. I can always use a little laughter. Stay tuned...

Writing challenge, Day 10: a fruit you dislike and why

This is without a doubt one of the easier topics of the writing challenge. Generally speaking, I like just about any fruit you can throw at me—and some people would be happy to take aim. But there's one fruit that I just cannot get into: coconut.

For starters, I don't want to eat a fruit that requires a sledge hammer to open. With most fruit, you just tear off the peel or simply rinse it and enjoy. You can expect a bit of juice to get on you and your clothes, but not in the quantity of that of a coconut. "What's all over your shirt?" "Oh, I spilled my coconut milk." Even without its own milk or the not-so-easy-to-open package it comes in, I just don't like the taste of coconut. Never have. And for even less fun, it gets stuck in my teeth. At Halloween, getting all of those fun size bars was nice unless they were Mounds or Almond Joy, because that meant...coconut. Yuck! (On a side note, why are "fun size" chocolate bars so small? If they're "fun," shouldn't they be big enough to share with all of your friends? The size of, say, a grand piano? After all, it is chocolate, y'know!)

It just so happens that my wife loves coconut. Good! She can have mine.

Speaking of the Mrs., tomorrow's entry will be about our relationship. It ought to be...interesting. Stay tuned...

Writing challenge, Day 9: your feelings on ageism

Strange as it sounds, I actually had to look up the word "ageism." Before hitting the dictionary, though, I figured that with the suffix of "ism" the definition would be similar to "racism," only instead of bias against race, it would mean "bias against age." Amazingly, I was right. Do I win a prize? No? I'm too old you say. Well, take me to Denny's so I can get my senior discount on dinner.

All right, let me serious up here. I never really gave this much thought because I've never had anyone make assumptions about me because of my age, real or perceived. Not to my face, anyway. While this is a problem for many, let me tailor this essay to what I personally experience from day to day. Having been out of work for nearly five years and having had little luck in finding employment, I have to wonder whether companies are tossing me aside because they think I'm too old. While I can't prove that I've had any bias against me because of my age, many times I probably have.

Until recently, I've always looked younger than I really am. Not smoking or drinking or doing any "hearty partying" was likely a factor there. But those gray hairs started to appear at about age 39. Shaving off my beard in 1999 at age 40 took a few years off of my age, so said a number of people, and losing the gray that had started to appear helped. Now I'm in job search mode. Apparently, employers are looking for 25-year-olds with 30 or more years of experience so they can bring them on and pay them less. At least it seems that way.

These days, I'm fighting a chronic disease (Type 2 diabetes) that can sap the youth right out of you. Whereas people used to guess my age at five to ten years younger than I was, now I'm getting guesses going the other way.

What may be saddest of all is that older people in this country are not held in high regard—too many people think that those folks are old, tired, and should be put out to pasture. Once again, I bring up Japan. In that country, older people are respected by all for their experience in life. They are treasured for their wisdom and experience as younger people can learn a lot from them.

I may be getting old on the outside, but I'm thankful that my heart and mind are still young. Even now at the "ripe old" age of 56, I can still get on a roller coaster and enjoy the ride. Most importantly, I laugh easily and can still make others laugh. Laughter is indeed the best medicine and will keep you young, provided you're willing to keep on laughing.

Age is just a number. We'd best not even take that into account when dealing with people. Take them at face value. Because when you least expect it, someone "too old" or "too young" just might surprise you. Or shock you. Or maybe even leave you in tears...

Tomorrow I'll talk about a fruit that I dislike and I'll even tell you why. Stay tuned...