Day 2.

Day two. We end up crossing the Ohio river into Kentucky. It would be nice if every state border could be divided by something so finite and visual as a river. A concrete division, muddy, deep, and moving quickly from someplace way up north, probably LakeErie, and ending up someplace way down south, most likely the Gulf Of Mexico. But until it finally pours out into the salt water it keeps the citizens of Ohio and Pennsylvania, Ohio and West Virginia, Ohio and Kentucky, Kentucky and Indiana and almost certainly several others, safely separated and in their place. It just makes things neater.

It is almost amazing the difference crossing a bridge will make. Southern Ohio, is still Ohio, certainly, the landscape is different, and the architecture is more restrained, but you drive through little towns almost constantly. Highway 52 is dotted with small towns, Highway 125 is so littered with small towns you might assume it was the suburbs on medium, unseen urban area. 

Not so in Kentucky, drive down Highway 23 and there are houses everywhere. Some ancient, abandoned, decaying and giving off a serious creepy tone that you can feel driving past. Others new, with shiny exteriors, swimming pools fed by long, winding slides. Some trailer houses, parked on a flat spot on the side of the hill, surrounded by cars, pickups and all terrain vehicles. Most of them are a long way from the nearest town. A trip to the grocery store is a serious undertaking.

When they get to the store, (at least the one we found) it is small, really inexpensive and filled with food that has lasted beyond it’s expiration date. It is an ingenious idea, they probably get this stuff for very little, sell it for slightly more, and people were hauling it out of there by the armload. There were hundreds of things that were just beyond the date, it might have been a month or two, that were ridiculously cheap. All of it was stuff that was so processed it should probably have a half life, stuff people eat all the time. We bought enough to fill a large box, and it was less than fifteen dollars. Of course, my wife said those stores were plentiful and she saw several in Ohio, too. And she does have an eye for those things.

And the people in the store all had the most charming accent. It always seemed to me that people in Kentucky drove too fast, too aggressively, but they talk so peacefully, so placid. Lilting through the “You alls,” and the “Pardons” and every word that came out their mouths. It was enough to make me want to start a conversation. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee. And we’ll talk.” I am a sucker for accents. On one side of the river they talk like me, on the other side, I suppose, they think I have an accent. It is difficult to believe an imaginary line, represented by a dashed line on a map, and dreamed up by surveyors hundreds of years ago would have the same effect as the mighty Ohio River cutting the states apart, dividing peoples whose differences are so noticeable, but maybe I am just a romantic.

Of course, it would be an easy matter for people from South Shore, or South Portsmouth to drive across the river and go to Walmart (though I probably would not cross the street to go to Walmart), or Kroger and do their shopping. They will be paying Ohio sales tax which seems a little treasonous to me. But, maybe I am just a just a little bitter about Governor Kasich’s tax plan. 

And the Kroger in Portsmouth was insanely busy. The parking lot was packed, filled with cars, circling, sharks, or carrion birds, looking for a feast, or the closest parking spot. Mad Max goes grocery shopping with cell phone plastered to the side of his face. Ever vigilant, never slowing, just moving, wary, or unaware in some cases, it was almost surreal. Walmart might have been the better choice, it might have been worse, if that was possible.

A big fan, someday.

Saturday, the first day of a three day weekend, it has a special magic. There is a cool breeze, and birds are singing, life is good. It would be a nice weekend without the extra day at the end. It is the weekend of the Indianapolis 500, if you like car races, I am not a fan, but they make a big deal about it. Auto races are very popular.

Once, when our son was younger, he played basketball on a spring travel team. We were going to a tournament in Louisville, and got stuck in the most awful traffic outside Sparta Kentucky. Cars and vans, campers, pickups, motorcycles all lined up for miles, inching along, doors open, people walking from car to car selling t-shirts, and hats. Beers were handed back and forth, laughing, hollering and general goofiness. It was a festive, wild party atmosphere. I hated being stuck in traffic, but it was an otherworldly spectacle. This was on the interstate highway, imagine what it was like inside. I decided right then that one day I was going to attend a big race.

For a brief time I worked in the office of third party warehouse. It was a huge place, ran by a huge company. One of my coworkers in the office was an ingratiating little man (the inventory control specialist (ICS)) who wanted desperately to be everybody's friend. He was willing to try almost anything to get people to like him, anything except being human. He told one of the warehouse workers he had a friend who get tickets to a big auto race in Michigan. Working for a huge corporation has some benefits and some drawbacks. Rules are not made to be broken, there is always some Human Resource nazi who makes sure that the ts are crossed and is are dotted, if you get my drift.

Vacation rules are a virtual battleground pitting the common man against the giant company. And since the company has all the cards (money) and makes all the rules they normally win.

Anyway, my office coworker, the weaselly little ICS told the warehouse worker (a burly, bearded, tattooed guy (and this was before tattoos were cool)) that he could get the tickets "no problem." So the warehouse worker took two days vacation. In a shocking turn of events the weasel could not get the tickets, and the human resource warlord would not let the angry warehouse worker rescind his vacation request, rules are rules, you know. 

Man, was he mad. Yelling and screaming, I got a fresh cup of coffee and settled in to watch the show. However, the warehouse manager and the office manager came over and deep sixed the opening act. 

Then, they turned on me. "Why didn't you do something?"

"I'm not security."

"Oh, it says in chapter 7 of the employee handbook that everybody is responsible for security, and you signed form 175.7A (that may not have been the number, it was something like that) that you read and understood the rules." They had me wriggling in the crushing grip of reason.

"Yes, I did sign that, but I didn't read it." Confession is good for the soul. It is not so good for performance evaluations, though.

As you can see racing is entwined through my life. So, I just have to figure out which race to attend and who I want to win.

Vacation, oh sweet, lovely vacation.

One day, and then vacation, those sweet days off where you get paid for not going to work.  It is a really good system, and I am not sure who thought it up, but they deserve a couple of extra votes.  I will donate mine.

This year is going to be fun, we are going to Louisville, KY, and Gatlinburg, TN and living the high life, and eating too much, probably, and not drinking quite enough, as we are now old, and tired, and will probably be pretty full.  But, my barber, the inestimable, undeniably intelligent, and very nice Ted told me about this place in Gatlinburg where you can sample several different flavors of moonshine.  

Honestly, I had never thought too much about the flavors of moonshine, thinking it was all just clear, really strong, burn the hair out of your nostrils strong, but depending on what they use for the sugar it can be quite different, according to Ted, whose opinion I hold in very high regard.  So, there is one fun activity.

Then, there is the donut place, the "Donut Friar" in Gatlinburg, it is a place where they take sheets of some sort of dough, spread it thin, using a rolling pin made from magic wood harvested in the Great Tasty Forest of Heaven, and produce what Dante would gladly call the "circles of Heaven."  When I was younger, and kind of dumb, no let's face it, really dumb, I would have driven down there, eight hours just for a mixed dozen, and that would have been pretty smart.

Of course, we are bringing our friend, my oldest and best friend, who is now completely blind, so I should offer my apologies to Kentucky and Tennessee, he is very able, and very careful, but he still runs into a lot of things, so we are sorry.

In retrospect, we wouldn't really need to take him all the way to Tennessee, we could just go to Yellow Springs (I've heard that is one cool place) and tell him we were in Gatlinburg, he wouldn't know.  But, I have started a facebook page for him, (if anyone is interested in keeping track let me know and I will add the link) so someone might notice and rat me out, and then there would be some explaining to do.  Probably not a good idea, after all.

For all of those who are interested I will turn this into a travel blog for a week or so, detailing the best things to do in the places I am at the moment.  For those of you who aren't interested, you probably quit reading a long time ago, maybe two years or so, and have continued to not read, so I won't worry too much about it.

Remember, in the words of the great Bob Dylan;

"Everybody get ready, lift up their glasses and sing
Everybody get ready to lift up their glasses and sing,
I'm standing on the table proposing a toast to the king"

No, it probably doesn't fit too well with this post, but man I can groove to that song, that whole album rocks.

Life Explained Explains Time

Time is the most perplexing thing.  Allegedly, it is a constant, never changing, marching forward, seconds passing in a monotonous parade of consistency.  Disputing this is difficult, because the devices made to measure time deal in absolutes, precise machines designed to record one unit giving way to the next.  While in reality there are many variables involved in the passage of time.

A dentist office slows time to a crawl.  Forty five minutes in a dentists chair lasts almost a life time, in fact a root canal procedure takes almost as much time as it took to build the pyramids.  Dentists should use a calendar to time procedures.  

A day at work, even if you love your job, is a lengthy proposition, dragging on, passing minutes hammering away at your will to live.  But, a weekend is over almost before it begins.  As soon as the final bell tolls on Friday sending you home, whistling all the way, you have to hit the snooze button.

But, it does not end there.  Assuming, for example your work day is divided between tasks, some of which are more enjoyable, some less, and most work days are cut along these lines, then part of your day will go painfully, slowly ants marching inexorably back to the nest, other parts will drag almost to a stop, tar covered turtles carrying bricks up the side of a mountain.

The same is true of the weekend.  For example, tonight Louisville plays Kentucky in the Round of Sixteen (the Sweet Sixteen) in the NCAA basketball tournament, one of the biggest sports rivalries in existence extending into the post season.  This is a huge game, and the winner will move to the next round (the Elite Eight), and they will get there by defeating their hated in state rival, and the loser will go home, to stew in inconsolable misery, and doubt themselves, and everything they have ever believed (sorry about your luck, Kentucky).  This is the biggest, most venomous rivalry since the Aliens and the Predators squared off in Alaska, thanks to those pesky kids...  (oops sorry about the sports rant, and the Scooby Doo reference).

Anyway, that game will be so intense and enjoyable it will be over before you can finish your bowl of chips, but installing that new heating element in the oven will take about 15 minutes that will last about two and a half hours. 

All we are asking is equity.  Unpleasantness is part of life, but it should be compensated for, if you have to carry out difficult work that seems to last all day you should be allowed to leave when it is finished.  If part of your weekend is so pleasant, and entertaining that it shrinks hours into minutes, you should get a little extra weekend, right off the top, on Monday morning, preferably.  

When man first devised the method to track time, things were brutish, life was short and times were difficult.  Keeping track of how long it took was just a way to avoid thinking about how awful things were.  Now we are more sophisticated, we have taken so many steps to improve life.  It is time to "improve life."

With that in mind we are starting the "Life Explained Equitable Passage of Time" movement.  Please sign below to help us push this through.  We suggest you not use your real name, in case the time police decides to squash our puny little revolution, they are everywhere, you know?  In fact, you might want to use an important, intelligent sounding name, we suggest Einstein, or Aristotle, something people will notice.  "Well, if da Vinci thinks it is a good idea, so do I."

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