Months before we left for Italy, I wanted to try and learn some of the language, so as to *not* be considered an ugly American and actually make an effort. When in Rome! Weeee! So, I bought an Italian phrase book, which imparted roughly 75 to 100 words that are tailor made to assist you in say, a business trip or vacation in Italy. The book even came with a cd to let you hear the pronunciation. It was really helpful. That, along with flash cards to study with, helped me learn some basics which came in very handy in several situations. 

I was able to communicate with some of the waiters when ordering something like an iced coffee. I was able to ask a bookstore owner a few questions regarding his comics and store hours. I even had a fairly long conversation with a store clerk when I was trying to buy socks. Turns out my Italian was better than her English, so all in all, I was very pleased how well my little language course worked out. And I’ll say this– for anyone traveling to another country, getting the business trip basics is the way to go. Don’t even bother with something like Rosetta Stone. Utterly useless in this type of situation. If you’re going to go *live* in Italy or elsewhere, sure, spend two years with the RS program, and try to learn the entire language but for a vacation, it’s pointless. Rosetta Stone doesn’t even cover greetings like hello or good morning until god knows what future lesson. When we went to Greece (another post), I learned the important basics in 15 minutes from my next door neighbors, after totally wasting my time for two months learning useless items like cat and airplane and tree from RS. 

But as we left off in part one, we were near the end of our time in Rome. The city itself was very over crowded and you couldn’t pay me to drive on those roads. These inner city roads were tight, winding and everybody on mopeds and in cars of all sizes were going at crazy fast speeds. Insane. I’m really surprised there weren’t multiple deaths all around us. 

Leaving Rome by train, we moved on to Florence. I don’t remember Florence quite as well — although I do know that every step of the way, the food was always wonderful. Numerous times, we had a selection of prosciutto and fresh mozzarella amidst other dishes. Of course we spent a good amount of time around the statue of David, soaking in the presence along with the reverential vibe of the visiting crowds. Most of the rest of the time was spent checking out the scenery. We set the vacation up like this: arrive in a city and just check it out on day one, do some kind of tour at our leisure on day two, then more wandering and experiencing on day three before moving on to the next city. This pattern worked really well, as it was more relaxing and we didn’t have a rigorous schedule every day. 

We also got lucky regarding some aspects of the weather. Sure, it was July and it was hot but whether it was just a dry heat or what, it didn’t feel that bad. And that’s coming from me of all people. And the extra bonus was that when we got to Venice, it was even a bit cooler and no flooding, which is becoming more and more of a problem as time goes by. Venice was really beautiful and our favorite of the three. Part of the magic is no cars allowed. It’s all either walking or bikes and the crime is almost non existent, if memory serves. It was lovely walking around the city. If you’re thinking about taking a romantic gondola ride for two though, it’s not a guarantee. You’re just as likely to get bundled up with part of another group. Still, it’s a lovely view of the city on the water. 

It was in Venice that we visited the Murano glasswork studio and ended up buying the  jellyfish creation we feature in our hutch cabinet in the dining room. Some beautiful and crazy expensive stuff in the Murano workshop. One night, we were looking for a place to eat and almost by accident, came upon a tiny little restaurant under a staircase. We poked our heads in and there wasn’t much seating, maybe six total but one couple was in the corner and they looked at us as we came in and gave an immediate thumbs up as they consumed their meal. Good enough for us.

Out from the back came a jovial woman, presumably the owner, who recommended the bruschetta and their pizza. Both were amazing, especially the bruschetta, which was dialed up to 11. I don’t know how much business they usually got, hidden away as they were, beneath a certain staircase amidst a city filled with maze like passages everywhere but they were top notch. I think if we were to go back, Venice is the one we’d most like to revisit.

Eventually though, all good things must come to an end. We bought our glass jellyfish and hightailed it out of Italy. Although it had a rocky start the first night, it turned out to be one of the best vacations ever. 

In 2005, Linda and I embarked upon a 10 day trip to Italy, consisting of 3 days in Rome, 3 in Florence, 3 in Venice. It’s a trip that started horribly but righted itself early on and went wonderfully from then on. (Kids were with my folks in Florida, as mentioned in another post)

As I said, things started off badly as two days before we were due to leave, I was carrying the garbage bags down the front steps to put them out and I hit the paving stone at a bad angle, which resulted in an even worse angle for my ankle, ending with a hideous bend and a hairline fracture. The Doctor was very cool though and appreciated the importance of this WALKING trip and tried to accommodate me as much as possible. I think I ended up with a light brace over a tight wrap around the ankle and she advised me to stay off it whenever possible. Huzzah.

Time to pack for the trip. Now, it’s not that I don’t trust the airlines but no, I *don’t* trust the airlines any further than I can throw a plane. Especially when it comes to looking after our luggage. And extra especially when I know we’d be changing planes *somewhere* in Germany. 

I had a thought. To cut down on the possibility of problems, I suggested we each share a suitcase, half and half. That way, if one of our suitcases got lost, we’d still have clothes until the errant bag caught up with us. My wife didn’t want to do that, preferring to keep all her own stuff in her suitcase. Okay. 

So off we went, winging our way to Italy, via Germany. The 13 hour flight was more comfortable than expected, as it was a big plane and we had seats in front of the bulkhead which meant more leg room. I think this was maybe a kindness the airline bestowed upon me and my ankle, which I needed to elevate. It was odd though, having a sock and a shoe on one foot and a brace with a wrap and no sock on my other foot, keeping my shoe off as much as possible. Having no sock on the right foot just felt weird and took me a bit out of my comfort zone. Little did I know.

We arrived at Frankfurt, Germany at around 5 am local time on a Sunday morning, where we had over an hour layover before getting to our next plane for the final leg to Rome. 

Grey. The Frankfurt airport was grey. Walls. Floor. Ceiling. Lights. Furniture. People. Windows. Pavement. Cars. Trucks. Sky. All grey and as tired as we were, our thoughts were all grey as well. I’d been up for I don’t know how many hours, was feeling grungy and just wanted a shower. And a sock. Eventually, after watching paint dry or evolution trying to take hold, we got on the next plane and did the relatively short hop to Rome. 

Golden. It was sunny and warm as is befitting Rome in July. We were just glad to have arrived. We figured to grab our luggage, then a shower at the hotel, as it was a long flight, it was warm, we were grungy, I had no sock, etc. Oh, not so fast!

They lost my suitcase. In fact, after waiting by the carousel for an hour, then reporting  it to the airline staff, they didn’t even have my suitcase in the database. No trace. At all. No way to track it, locate it. So all I had were the clothes on my back and one sock. 

Linda? Oh she had her suitcase, no worries. They only lost mine. 

Here’s the deal. The only time I qualify as a civilized human being is when I’m in my comfort zone. After arriving at the hotel, I just wanted to take a shower and put on clean clothes. We alerted the hotel about my luggage situation and my wife, who began to see our vacation starting to crumble on the very first day, was visibly upset. I had tried to wash my existing clothes in the hotel sink and use the hair drier to dry them. This did not work. Turns out it would take forever to dry the clothes this way. And this shortsighted maneuver also left me totally without clothes. Effectively, all I was left with were the bed sheets for an impromptu toga — which actually might make sense in Rome, just not this millennia. The group tour guide who was staying at the hotel took Linda out to try and find a store where she could find me some clothes. In Rome. On a Sunday night when most stores were closed. Oh, and just to add more tension to plot,  I was clocking in at 250 back then, a weight which was probably unheard of to the populace of Rome considering the sizes available to me. Of the slim pickings from what store was open, Lin came back with the largest sizes of underwear and of long pants she could find and two button up shirts. The shirts were actually quite nice but the underwear and the pants were about two sizes too small (painful) and we had to cut three inches off the legs, they were so long. That was another hitch in the plan, we were going to the Vatican the next day and everyone’s knees must be covered. I guess bare knees piss off the Pope. 

Now please bear with me. I had to get my mind right. We were in the first of a ten day trip, all my stuff was gone, the new clothes I did have included underwear and pants that were so tight….I lack the proper descriptors. The situation was untenable for me, so I crawled into bed — being totally without clothes, I thought it best—and just thought for a bit. About things. I mentally went down a very dark hole. Essentially, if I wasn’t a Fatty Magoo, I wouldn’t be in this situation. This was on me. To say I felt pretty low was a vast understatement. So I used that. It’s an established fact that I am my own worst enemy, so I had to use that to kick my own ass into gear because this was just pathetic on every level. I could not let me being me ruin our vacation, so I sucked it up, abolished the comfort zone nonsense, got my mind right and said fuck it. Suck it up, –and yeah really suck it up to get the pants on — and get on with it. I came up out of the dark mental hole and disregarded all thought of discomfort and proceeded to enjoy. 

We went out for a delightful dinner and I mentally formulated various back up plans on how to make my two very different sets of clothing manage to last 10 days in three cities, as I feared my suitcase was forever gone to Narnia. 

The next day, it was unsurprisingly 95 degrees in Rome in July and I was wearing long pants to impress the Pope. The temperature didn’t seem that bad though. To further make things interesting, I never realized how intriguing it is to hobble over giant cobblestones with a sprained ankle, but it does keep you sharp. Amazingly, my new mental outlook meant sharper senses, a greater tolerance of heat and possibly a greater healing ability, because I no longer had issues with the ankle, not even on the giant, rounded cobblestones. 

That day, we saw the Vatican, with all the art that came with it, the Colosseum, which is always impressive, and it was all quite nice. The most impressive of all though was the statue of St. Paul, outside the Basilica. I don’t know if I can properly express my admiration on this piece. It has an elegance. The juxtaposition of the folds of fabric and the sword he carries. The weight. Seriously, I don’t know how long I stood there just staring at this beautiful object. My god, it was breathtaking. I’ll add a picture below to end this.

But before the end…..that night, we arrived back at the hotel and what was waiting for me but my suitcase. It fell off the track in Frankfurt. Of course it did. It’s a grey suitcase. It was home. But now, it was back, I had my other sock, all my clothes and joy reigned across the land. The next part will continue on from Rome. I leave you now  with the promised picture of St. Paul. 

When the kids were infants, for various reasons I won’t go into, we didn’t have babysitters. By that, I mean, we didn’t get strangers or teens who do that on a regular basis. This left us with few choices, as my folks had already moved to Florida and Lin’s folks had their hands full with watching several other grandchildren on a regular basis and were getting up there in age, so we didn’t want to impose on them that much. So when they were a bit older, we did have them stay at Linda’s sister’s house occasionally. 

Bottom line, we very rarely were ever separated from them, even to that extent. And of course I’ve already detailed the time they went for a stroll and freaked us out in ’02.  But in 2005, for the first time in over a decade, we were going to go away, just the two of us — to Italy for ten days. Theresa was now 11 and Matthew was 8, so we formulated a plan where my folks would fly up, visit, then take the kids back to Florida in our van, then after the trip, we’d fly down, collect them and drive back home. (I may be misremembering the back leg of that journey but never mind.) 

I guess, in the end, I didn’t really grasp what was about to happen. The folks and the kids hopped in the van, ready to go. Matthew, for some reason, was wearing a baseball cap that made him look even younger than he was, something out of Norman Rockwell painting. Theresa and Matt were strapped in and as the sliding door started to close, Matthew said goodbye, but his voice caught in the middle of it. 

Well. 

Here’s the thing. This was the first time they’d be separated from us for more than an overnight. We didn’t know if they were going to break down or be upset, etc. so we were determined to hold it together for their sake, but his voice catching at the last second– I’m just glad they were pulling away at that moment.

Now, the following is an example of the two of us reacting in our own, specific ways. 

As soon as they pulled away down the driveway, I was a stupid mess. Damn near inconsolable. Miserable the entire day. I just wasn’t used to them being gone, I was worried that they were miserable, worried about the drive down there, safety, accidents, you name it. But then, that night, when they called from the hotel they were staying at, past the halfway mark, the kids were fine and happy, trip was smooth and everyone was happy. And thus, I was content. Knowing they were safe and sound, I was totally good leaving the country and leaving them with the folks. I’d miss them but as long as they were ok, I could have been gone for a year, absolutely content at least knowing they were okay. I got it all out of my system. 

But Linda… that first day they left, she was fine and mostly comforting her idiot husband. A few days later, we went to Italy, had a great time, barring a few early mishaps (a future blog). Thing IS…. while I got over the hump of worry on day one, with each successive day, she was missing them more and more, anxiety building and building, so at the end of the weeks before we saw them again, she was a bit miserable. Just never as demonstrative as I was on day one. She held it together far better than I. 

In the end, it was a great experience for all involved. 

The moral of the story? 

I don’t know…….Do things? 

We probably don’t always need a moral. But this did give you yet another piece of my mental puzzle. Or mental Jenga tower, however you want to stack it. 

I’m filled with disgust at the animal who slowly murdered George Floyd for eight minutes, knee on his neck, while his brethren stood by and watched. That’s unacceptable by any rational or humane sense, any way you might want to look at it.

I’ll have to be satisfied he’s getting charged with murder and I hope justice will prevail. But it’s got to be due process and by the book, otherwise, we’re no better than the killer.

Police officers have to be better than this. It’s my belief, my hope that most are. 

I’ve grown to be somewhat desensitized to the social rot and stupidity all around us. Opportunistic scavengers, whether they be the mindless hordes who destroy people’s livelihoods and lives when given an opening, or frightened politicians and commanders calling for overwhelming and unnecessary force against anything that moves. Also, those who keep the cycle of hate churning. All factions making everything exponentially worse. 

WE should be better than this. Again, I think most of us are.

My admiration and respect goes out to those who are making their voices known loud and clear, but with their peaceful presence and protests. Their dedication to non-violence, even in the face of adversity. This is why I still have some faith in humanity. 

I could go off on a much longer rant in general but I leave it at that. I’ll resume my usual content tomorrow. 

It was a new era for Jon Pertwee’s third Doctor, as the show was in color for the first time and the Doctor was exiled to Earth in the 1970’s with a new face, as a result of his trial by the Time Lords of his home world.

*Note: the majority of the Pertwee era takes place in present day Earth but nearer the end of his time, there were more adventures on other planets.

Honorable mentions first. Spearhead from Space introduces us to the new era of Doctor Who, in color for the first time, and with a new Doctor. The four part adventure also establishes the setting on present day Earth, the new normal with our hero working with UNIT. The threat is the Nestene Consciousness and it’s mastery of all things plastic, resulting in their ambulatory weapons, the Autons.

1)The Silurians is a seven part thriller that introduces us to the title characters, the original inhabitants of Earth. They want it back, one way or another, and the Doctor must broker a peace. Great outing for Pertwee and UNIT. Top level.

2)Inferno closes out the seventh season with a seven part story that snaps us back and forth to a parallel dimension. All, while an experiment is about to crack open the center of the earth and kill everyone. Excellent story, great characters. 

3)Terror of the Autons is the four part opener to the eighth season that is noteworthy as not only a good return bout with the Nestene Consciousness from Spearhead, but it also introduces the Master, the Doctor’s oldest Time Lord friend turned deadly enemy.   

4)Mind of Evil is a suspenseful action yarn taking place mostly in a prison as the Doctor goes up against the Master again. Loads of good UNIT action here.

5)The Deamons is one of the most highly regarded of the Pertwee era. A small village is the center of a battle between the Doctor, the Master, and Azal, a daemon from Deamos, an alien civilization so advanced, it’s science appears to us to be like magic. Fantastic story. 

6)The Three Doctors kicks off the tenth season. This four part story is a great celebration of the tenth anniversary and brings back Patrick Troughton and William Hartnell to team up with the incumbent and face off against Omega, a renegade Time Lord. Highly recommended for loads of fun.

7)Carnival of Monsters is one of the best of the Pertwee era and one of the most imaginative sci-fi concepts. Aliens collect life forms– from gentle aliens to monstrous killers, shrink them and put them in their miniscope to entertain the customers with their little illegal zoo. When the Doctor mistakenly gets sucked in, all hell breaks loose. Four stars. 

8)Frontier in Space is a six part thriller featuring a future war between Earth and Draconia. This one has everything, from political intrigue, action a plenty, Venusian Akido, the Master, and one of the most beautifully designed aliens in the show’s history with the Draconians. 

9)The Green Death is a wonderfully crafted tale which focused on the state of ecological affairs back in the day but as a subtle back drop for giant maggots! A fan favorite. 

10)The Time Warrior is a deft four part tale which introduces us not only to the war-like Sontaran race but the wonderful Sarah Jane Smith, in this opener for season 11.

11)Planet of the Spiders is the six part finale of season 11 and Pertwee’s final story. It’s packed with action aplenty and giant spiders to boot. Recommended as the end of this era.

My cousin Kris has never been particularly into science fiction, that I know of. I don’t remember ever hearing her go on and on about a love of or for robotics. She seems like a normal Swede in most ways, a decent, caring sort, with many, many, many issues but the point is, she’s human. With all her many, many frailties. 

But I suspect she married an android.

Now, I can’t prove any of this but something is just….different… about her husband John. Not “bad” different, no no no. Hell, he’s wonderful! Salt of the earth, would do anything for you, a truly truly great guy. In fact you might say he’s “too good”. Even “Tom Hanks” good. Yeah. 

*Almost* perfect might be a more apt, yet worrying description. 

He can perform physical feats that would kill lesser men, yet he doesn’t even breathe hard. Except maybe if you notice that he’s not at all winded. Then he might pretend like he’s breathing a bit. Put on a show of sorts for the “organics.”

I’ve seen him effortlessly launch himself out of a sitting position in a canoe, straight up into the air and onto a big rock in the middle of a lake.

I’ve seen him drive incredibly fast, yet with pinpoint accuracy. Computer accuracy.

I myself have plied the man with alcohol yet it seemingly has no effect on him. 

He once built another house behind his house in his backyard. Possibly within 48 hours. With no readily apparent tools except his “fingers”. 

He seems to be remarkably efficient at cooking, cleaning, laundry, construction, math, car maintenance, nerve cluster placement and windows. Kris has watched him do these things year after year. He never seems to falter or tire. 

WE DO NOT KNOW THE UPPER LIMITS OF HIS STRENGTH, SPEED OR INTELLIGENCE.

I once attempted to try the “Fembot” test on him. It’s a time honored test created on the Six Million Dollar Man tv show in the ’70’s. Drop a pencil in his walking path. If he steps on the pencil and it simply breaks, no worries. But if the pencil is ground to dust as if under the tremendously condensed mass of a two ton walking computer, bingo. 

Well, I dropped the pencil several times and he managed to step over or around it each time. 

Clever.

No one’s ever actually seen him sleeping unless he wanted them to. Immune to all diseases. There’s been no video proof of his ability to either fly or jump great distances. We can only guess at his *true* age.

Mind you, he has made mistakes, albeit only one or two. But there are SO few, one wonders if they’re intentional. For example:

He’s horrible at card tricks and he makes sure that you *know* that he’s bad at card tricks, over and over. 

And he can’t quite get the word dilemma right, pronouncing it “dilemna”. 

That was the tiny detail which raised the red flag. 

And hey, don’t get the wrong idea. I love the guy no matter *what* his insides are made of, whether it be bone and muscle or polycarbonate steel and composite carbon fiber. 

I just think it’s great that whatever his origin, that he’s chosen to spend time with us. And if it happens that he’s an advanced extraterrestrial bio mechanical life form who’s come to evaluate earth’s population to see if we prove worthy as a race…. well as a whole, we’ve kinda screwed the pooch there. I hope Kris is representing us well.

But on the other hand, John might just be a normal human who’s extremely well versed and capable in all things. That works too.

When the social distancing ends, I’ll give the big lug a big hug either way. 

The tale I’m about to tell you is true. Code names will be assigned to protect the identities of the participants. Not because they did anything wrong actually, but I thought it would be fun to give them code names. Hee hee!

The Refuge has been an invite only message board for some 17 years now. We were originally assembled because of our mutual dislike of a comic creator. A guy who, once he had his own message board, started acting like a tin pot tyrant, alienating most of his fans (John Byrne). So we left and gathered together elsewhere to chat about comics, life, etc. and have all grown close. In some cases, some very strong friendships arose. We decided back in 2007, to actually attempt gathering together at a comic convention in Baltimore. Geographically, its location benefitted the majority of the members. 

And to be clear, although there are technically 55 total members–that’s it–at least half are members in name only as they’ve either only visited briefly and then left forever, or used to be regulars and eventually split forever. No, we’ve got about 25 actual members who are still in the regular rotation. 

That first get together, I did not make, although, by all accounts, a good time was had by all. A couple local guys, Editor and Tech stopped by and Beard may have been in the area staying with his brother. But the bulk of the crew, Cajun, Jersey Boy, G-man, Archivist, Canadian, Reporter, Kolchak, Gipp, Gohnny and Sugg, all stayed together in one hotel room. All jammed together in what was eventually to be coined “The Uni-room”. 

Ten men enter, no man leaves, something like that. A room capable of producing the most intriguing odors after a while. Forgive me if I got the assemblage wrong, as I was not there that first year. All I know is, Jersey Boy broke the AC that first year.

I did show up the next year, me and my compulsive planning. Where as the previous year, the boys were a half hour away from the action and the convention, I booked the new Uni-room at the local Days Inn, a small room with two double beds, that would be accommodating 11 men and guests. This would more or less be the pattern for the next several years. The Inn also had the advantage of being right around the corner from the con and also the outdoor bar we would end up spending so much time at over the next 5 years or so, the Pratt Street Ale House. For a number of years, we did shift to the Lord Baltimore Hotel which had a wider variety of Uni-rooms and was only another couple blocks away,

Now in these early days, sure, it was a bit of a gamble. Traveling to a different city to share a hotel room, a bed(!) with people you’d only met online, on a comic book message board at that…on the face of it, yeah, a bit sketchy. Try explaining the arrangement to your wife. But the vast majority of the guys turned out to be great. Sure, one eventually went to jail but that wasn’t until over a decade later and really, the less said the better.

We usually spent that first day of each weekend whiling away the hours at the Ale House, chatting, while the varied members drifted in on flights from across the country. We usually didn’t travel too far from the area either, as once you left a certain radius, you were in a fairly dangerous area, especially late at night. Yes, there were a couple nights over the years, where we ventured over to an establishment here or there and were venturing where we shouldn’t have been in the wee hours but –INSERT REASONABLE, RATIONAL EXCUSE FOR BEING DRUNK — and when I thought I’d lost my phone we actually went back–IN AN UNFAMILIAR TOWN, HERE– so there you go. We could probably blame the Archivist for wanting to stop in the sketchiest place in Baltimore at 1am for steak and eggs but we were all complicit. That first year I was there, though, we did have eleven guys crammed into one room, in sleeping bags, huddled under the sink, you name it. Me, Jersey Boy, Canadian, Kolchak, Reporter, G-man, Archivist, Gohnny, Gipp and Sugg, and damnit, I know I’m missing someone. Anyway, Beard, Tech and the Editor all visited through the weekend as well, and it was the biggest turnout we’d have, until the big anniversary. Leading up to it, we’d had many an adventure. Inadvertently crashing private parties, sharing massive beer towers, touring ancient sailing ships, Jersey Boy almost dying from energy gum, chatting with and/or harassing comic celebs, etc. We had a lot of laughs with different line ups of attendees, and much celebrating was done, with a dash of silly stupidity. The Uni-rooms even got a bit larger and more luxurious.

In 2013, we celebrated the 10th anniversary of the Refuge. For this, we committed to pitching in for a much bigger Uni-room, because we had more people coming. There was a lot of back and forth communication with the Lord Baltimore hotel in the planning stage. I wanted to book one of their Crown Suites, a giant accommodation that took up the entire floor on top of the hotel. Long story short, the staff were oblivious as to what went on in their own hotel but in the end, I managed to get the group four regular, rather nice rooms, plus we had the entire run of one of the Crown Suites at our disposal, free of charge! Bonus — it had roof access. And so, we all gathered for a long weekend and we had 19 of the regular 25 in attendance. In addition to everyone mentioned earlier, Cucamonga showed up from the west coast, as did the Texan, the Gator from Florida, the Clay-man showed up and we even got the pleasure of the Brit showing up from across the pond. Oh, and Turtle called in.

One bittersweet side trip during the weekend was a handful of us driving over to Bethesda hospital to basically say goodbye to one of our own. Even though the time was sad, I was lucky to be able to say goodbye to Kerry (Sugg). Not only a great guy, but one the greatest artists it’s been my honor to know. 

The rest of the weekend was quite the affair to remember. The Crown Suite was a great setting for the get together and we utilized it to the fullest. A bunch of us were out on the roof talking, debating, reminiscing and even shouting at times, to the city below. (The shouting was all the Texan.)

Jersey Boy had brewed up a tasty couple batches of beer for the occasion, which we were all enjoying, until the Cajun’s family stopped by (staying elsewhere in the hotel) and stole a bunch of it, rendering the rest of the night dry. Still, we enjoyed each other’s company, well into the wee hours. It really could not have worked out better. Earlier that year, we’d each taken part in contributing to a couple illustrations. One Marvel and one DC, where we’d each draw a couple characters, then I’d assemble them via photoshop, resulting in a giant group shot of all the drawings/heroes. I’d then printed up posters and at the big weekend, everyone got one and we all signed each other’s posters. It was very cool. 

After that giant, extended gathering, the yearly trips pretty much ended, with the group only getting together again in ’15, I think. But the friendships remain. Once in a while, one Refugee will be in another’s town and there will be the occasional meet up. Jersey Boy actually came out this way and visited a couple years ago. It was great to see him again. If world events are kind, there will be more of this in the future.

Long live the ‘Fuge. 

Note:  This *might* be the last one regarding the oddities of me. Maybe. Don’t hold me to it but it’s possible. You see, the other day, I turned on the A.C….

I’ve mentioned how I was allergic to virtually everything when I was little. Including my sweat. But even though I was allergic to a ton of foods, there were equal dangers outside. As soon as spring sprung, I was usually in misery when outside. Ragweed, pollen, whatever the usual suspects were, that’s what I had trouble with as a kid. 

Never had the slightest issue with peanuts though. How about that? Then again, as far as I knew, nobody did back then. But I’m no doctor.

There were good days too and I was sometimes out and about but no matter what, I couldn’t roll around in the grass, otherwise, I’d be itchin’ and scratchin’ like a maniac. I was one step away from hives.

So quite a bit of the time, I was in my bedroom with the air conditioning on to provide relief. It was probably a hardship on the family too, as the rest of my grandparent’s house was not air conditioned, just the window unit in my room. 

And for quite a long time, I went around outside in bare feet, possibly because I always got blisters incredibly easy with this goofy skin of mine.

So basically, at four or five years old, if the conditions were amenable, I was often shooed out of the house by my grandmother to go play outside. But I had to go outside in bare feet (because of the blisters), stay off the grass (allergies/itching) and do… something. This was probably where the imagination started to kick in. Initially, I was hesitant to *ever* leave the comfort of my air conditioned room and go outside in bare feet, because one of the first times I did, a bee stung me on the bottom of my foot. Admittedly, that left a bit of a mental mark. 

So, when I wasn’t holed up in my room or outside dodging bees and grass, I was inside drawing. Circumstances seemed to point me toward an indoor activity like that. Drawing and tv. Go figure. 

Again, just wanted to give you a little insight as to why I am the way I am now. 

Everyone is shaped by their life experience, I’m no different. 

Yes, I too, am a mess. 

We’re already headed into June. I can’t believe how fast this year is going. Work is quiet. Days blend together. 

Starting to feel like this should be a “do over” year. 

Did… did we just do it over? Just now? Couldn’t tell. Went too fast. 

Going in for a routine CT scan today, and regular maintenance therapy next Monday. A change in the routine! 

Chopped some wood Monday. Haven’t done that in years. Feelin’ it. 

It’s astonishing. I can do the 500 rep challenge, do the walk/run, different P90X workouts, but chopping wood still utilizes different muscles that will remind you exactly how old you are. 

–I’m actually writing this Tuesday to post up Wednesday before the scan, so I chopped wood yesterday. My spine aches. I might chop more today, to either loosen up or go into traction. Either way, it’ll tell me whether or not I’ll be chopping more wood. 

Ah well, better go check out front. The mailman either just dumped a load of mail on the front porch or fell down the stairs.

A change in the routine!

While Duolingo is a pretty cool, FREE app for learning languages, having finished my first month (34 consecutive days), I have some observations, notes, etc.

The cartoon mascot of the app is a little owl named Duo. Duo will try and manipulate you and your emotions. He will also try to encourage you. Sometimes shame you. It is important to remember that the app is for all ages and the owl doesn’t mean you any harm. So resist the occasional urge to kill it.

20 questions in a lesson, 4 lessons to get a crown, 5 crowns to complete a category. I think there’s like 100 categories. The app teaches you in a variety of ways. We’ll refer to Spanish for the sake of this blog but they teach pretty much all languages.

*They print a sentence in Spanish and you have to say it out loud into the speaker.

*They print a sentence in English, give you a selection of Spanish words, you build the correct Spanish sentence.

*They print a sentence in Spanish, give you a selection of English words, you build the correct English sentence.

*They give you a selection of words in Spanish and English, you tap the corresponding pairs.

*They print a sentence in Spanish, you write it out in English.

*They print a sentence in English, you write it out in Spanish. This is the one that often trips me up. Some things I can’t grasp, sometimes I make mistakes, sometimes, dumb mistakes and I aggravate myself. These dumb mistakes are the occasional masculine/feminine gaffes, verb screw ups, etc. 

There are two speakers in the Spanish app, a man and a woman. As the program progresses, they are saying longer and more complex sentences that I have to decipher. They offer a regular playback option and a slower playback option, which is them slowly saying each word, ….one….at….a….time. I hate to have to resort to the slow playback but the regular playback has them rattling the sentences off and blurring words together to a sometimes incomprehensible degree. Sometimes, quite often really, when I type out the answer, I play back the sentence at slow speed to confirm I got it right before I enter it. Otherwise, I “lose a heart”. 

In any given session, you start out with 5 hearts. If you make a mistake, you can lose a heart. You lose all five, you’re either done for the day, or you “buy” more hearts with gems that you accumulate as you play. It’s always good to have a plentiful stock of gems in case you’re having a horrible session and run out of hearts quick. 

Sometimes, if I’ve run out of hearts but did so with a stupid mistake, I’ll buy more hearts. Or if I just had a really bad run and lost them all, I might also re-up. But often, they’ll give you the chance to earn a heart by watching a short ad. Worth it. Gives you a chance to stretch. You can also subscribe and pay for the course with a monthly fee. Then you have unlimited hearts, but I actually like having the heart limit. Keeps me on my toes. But I digress. 

I was talking about replaying the recording at the slow speed just to hear what exactly is being said. The guy speaker is pretty decent. The woman, though….

There are times when I want to kill this mush-mouthed bitch. I just had an instance where she said a sentence that was so difficult to understand, I must have listened to the regular playback ten times, and the slow playback even more. And I STILL got it wrong because she pronounces her “B’s” SO softly, I thought she was saying “V’s”. I thought she was saying “vive” instead of “bebe”. So, even after going over everything with a fine tooth comb, I still got it wrong and lost a heart. I was furious. 

But in general, I’m doing well. Took a mastery quiz and after a month, I’ve “mastered” 14% of the language so far. And in the rankings, depending on how you do each week, if you’re in the top ten with points, you are in the promotion zone and able to level up to the next league come Monday morning. If you’re in the bottom five of point getters, you risk getting demoted. I just made it to the Emerald league, which is the sixth of ten levels. If I manage to keep up this pace, I will make it to the ultimate level, “Diamond”, which really only means you are doing consistently well. It’s not like you’ve finished the course or anything.

Now, in a perfect world, I’m hoping to be in a position where I’m about done with Spanish by year’s end, so maybe I can switch back to Swedish. We’ve got a potential family reunion in August of ’21, so it’d be kind of nice to have some Swedish in my noggin. 

When I started this a month ago, I tried Spanish, Swedish and Italian simultaneously, but that started to seem confusing, and I figured at one point to just focus squarely on Spanish for now and go back later for the others. No idea *when* I’ll get to Japanese or Klingon, if ever.

More later.

Adios!