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April 3, 2008, Cornwall On Hudson, New York

So, I decided to take March off … I’ll send refund checks to everyone who subscribes prorated for the month later this month.

Sorry for the blackout. I have been relative busy and other times lazy. I did make a few changes to the blog though and you can now leave comments (be kind) and see the archives listed in a nice menu on the left.

Before I get too into stories tonight, let me just relate one thing.

Bug juice.

Yeah, bug juice. I remember referring to bug juice when were in college living in the dorms. Like, “Yeah, let’s make some bug juice tonight,” thinking we could be like BJ and Hawkeye on M*A*S*H and brew up some killer spirits. Or, when I was in the Navy and we were sitting around the barracks saying, “Hey, let’s make some bug juice.” Pretty much the same thing, at a different time and place, with relative the same guys, if not in name then in personas. Read the rest of this entry »

February 26, 2008, Cornwall On Hudson, New York

Random thoughts are all I have to share with you today.

There are a pile of Post-It Notes on my desk with scribbled ideas for stories, step counts from my pedometer for the past couple of weeks and reminders of things to do and of things I have seen.

First, no more step counts for you. I am still getting in what I can at work and am up to 8,591 for today, but no need to bore you with every single day’s worth. If I ever hit 10,000 though, I’ll let you know.

Secondly, a rather odd entry on one of the Post-It Notes simply says “deer squatting.” Well, as you know from either the blog or photos, I have quite a herd of deer that traipse across the lawn in front of the cottage heading toward Joe & Magda’s for some bakery-discount-store bread or burrowing into the snow looking for a quick meal of grass hiding on top of the permafrost here in the shadow of the mountain. I counted 14 in all yesterday. I see their hoofprints everywhere and every now and then a big pile of their pellets.

Deer poop looks like rabbit poop, only bigger. It’s bigger than raisins but not quite as big as a dried cherry. Closer to blueberries in size. Well, anyway, the other day, while driving home, I came across the herd a little ways down the road from 23 Maple Road. There were several deer sort of looking at the road, others rummaging for food, and one, half squatting like a dog doing its business and looking very strangely at me as I drove past. It had an almost “Why don’t you take a picture” look in its face.

Sorry for the mental picture that might conjure up, but I had never even thought about a deer having to squat before. I know dogs do and am sure other animals do. But I have seen horses basically stand upright and lift their tails to drop a pile in the stable. I don’t know why I assumed deer were more closely related to horses in this respect than canines.

Life in the country without a TV is starting to take its toll …

Anyway, I went to the Laundromat the other week. I am sure I mentioned it. I only bring it up again because this week, as I did not go home over the weekend, I was due for a return engagement. There is no limit to what some people will do to avoid going to the Laundromat, and that is what this little tale will focus on.

The first trip to the Laundromat here was only slightly traumatic. I had been planning on going to “Steve’s Laundry” in the Target plaza in Newburgh or New Windsor. I had seen it and even walked passed it while shopping at the Target and it looked nice, big and clean. The sign on the window said dryers were 25 cents and if that were true (for an entire drying cycle) it would be well worth any inconveniences to go there.

When I arrived at Steve’s that Saturday, the place was packed with about a dozen round-faced Hispanic children and several taxis were dropping off or picking up people with bags of laundry out front. I decided to look at some of the other places I had seen as this was going to be much too chaotic for me. I ended up at the Laundromat in Vails Gate in the Price Chopper plaza. It’s tucked away in the corner of the plaza and was not too busy when I arrived.

There was a lanky oriental gentleman doing his laundry, a nice Hispanic couple doing their laundry and an elderly gentleman doing his laundry as well. Several people came and went dropping off and picking up their laundry from the cleaning service there (for 85 cents a pound – minimum charge of $8.50 – they’ll do your laundry). They had a television there with a really old western movie on and I walked over to the Price Chopper to get a newspaper after I started the wash. When I got back to the Laundromat, the elderly gentleman was sitting on the seats with a basket of damp clothes next to him. I took a seat and started reading my paper. When a couple of dryers became available, I asked him if he was waiting for one. I realized there was such a thing as Laundromat etiquette and did not want to breach it.

“No, I’m waiting for my wife to pick me up,” he said. “Go ahead.” I guess it is good to have at least a dryer. The washers were $3 a load (two loads) and the dryers were about $1.50 or so. If Steve’s dryers were only a quarter for a full cycle, as I said, it would be worth it. As it was Super Bowl weekend and I do not have a television, I thought I might come back to watch the game and do my laundry a second time. It would have been cheaper than going to a bar and probably less noisy. With my luck the TV only picked up the channel with old westerns. I ended up listening to the game over the Internet on a radio station.

So, in order to avoid the Laundromat this week, since I did not go home this weekend, I decided to take a new approach. I generally have enough underwear and dress clothes to last two weeks, barely, but run short on t-shirts and black socks. So, my quandary the other day at the Target, as I watched the stream of taxis heading toward Steve’s, was head to the Laundromat or pad my wardrobe with sufficient necessities to make it through two weeks here. I have vowed to never even think about going three weeks here without a trip home. So, I left the Target that day with a bag of Haynes black crew socks and stopped by the Wal-Mart for a 5-pack of fresh Fruit of the Loom tees.

So, while I have enough clothes to keep me away from the Laundromat this week, I suddenly have an urge to watch on old western movie …

Anyway, when I was finally done with laundry the week I opted not to buy clothes, I went over to the Price Chopper to shop for some groceries. When I bought the paper earlier, I picked up some Dasani lemon water for my lunches. I realized later that the price I was charged was a little higher than it was listed on the shelf. I went back to check the price and noticed it had a little “with card” caveat on the sign. I realized they, like every supermarket now, had their own “savings card.”

After finding the customer service desk, I quickly procured a savings card for myself – they offer fuel perks at the same rate as Giant Eagle – and started looking for bargains. Luckily I got my Healthy Choice Steamers on sale. Only $2.50 away from my first dime off of gas, so I’ll use that this weekend for the trip home.

So, what have I learned lately … well, it might be cheaper in the long run to buy clothes and make less trips to the Laundromat, but think of all the social interactions you are potentially missing out on. Oh, and never, I mean never, waste your money on South Beach Diet chicken ranch wraps (or something like that). As a microwave food aficionado, trust me on this one. You’d get more nutrition and flavor out of a pile of deer pellets.

February 24, 2008, Cornwall On Hudson, New York

My car hates it here.

How do I know? Well, take into account that almost every time I arrive at the cottage after driving 400+ miles from Pittsburgh without incident, the “Service Engine Soon” light comes on as soon as I pull onto Bellwood Lane, if not sooner after pulling off of Interstate 84.

I have been chalking it up to the car’s voracious appetite for oil. The 1996 Saturns, as I read when researching them before I bought this one, seem to like to go through oil. It does not burn it, leaving a trail of bluish smoke behind me, or leak it, leaving puddles of black gold wherever I’ve park it for more than 10 minutes. It just goes through it.

One of the last times I came back from Pittsburgh, the light came on when I got to the cottage, after I had checked and filled the oil before leaving home, and I figured it could not be that. Well, before heading back to Pittsburgh at the end of that week I checked and sure enough, the light had been on all week probably because nothing registered on the dipstick. I apologized to the car (yeah, I talk to it) and gave her almost two quarts.

Does not prove that the car hates New York, right, only that it hates not having oil. Wait, there’s more …

Upon arriving back in New York after my week home, again after having checked the oil situation in Pittsburgh, the light promptly came on as I pulled into my parking space near the cottage. “Here we go again,” I muttered as I unloaded the car. The next day I figured I needed to add a quart after the drive back. Well, I was surprised to see that it was only down about a half a quart or three-quarters of one at most. I poured in a little more than what I thought it needed the next day and after checking the dipstick, it was nearly full. I finished off the quart and figured that would do it.

The car basically thumbed its nose at my efforts. The light remained on. Yesterday, I figured it might be something more than an oil deficit – or maybe I had put too much in. I think I remember reading somewhere not to overfill the oil. Anyway, while at the Wal-Mart in New Windsor or Newburgh, not sure where it is actually located, I bought a 92 cent bottle of fuel injection and carburetor cleaner. The shelves were loaded with confusing bottles claiming all kinds of things. To be honest, I am not even sure the car has a carburetor. But the same bottle of fuel injection cleaner that did not boast of cleaning the carburetor, was also 92 cents. I am cheap (big surprise), so I figured I’d get the most for my 92 cents and got the combination bottle.

I always love pouring essential fluids into my car in the parking lot of the Wal-Mart. Oil, windshield washing fluid, fuel additives. Makes me feel like I really belong there. So I opened the gas tank and added the bottle of cleaner to the 4 or 5 gallons of gas I had in there. It is supposed to treat up to 20 gallons, so I figured it would really have a chance to do its thing with significantly less fuel.

Even after driving the rest of the day (OK, only about 8 or 10 miles), the light remained on. Still not proof I suppose of the car’s hatred for its new home away from home.

While at the Wal-Mart yesterday I also bought some Starbucks for my coffee maker. When I got home I realized I had bought whole bean and not ground, which is what I need here. Whole bean is fine for Munhall On Monongahela as I have a grind and brew, but in Cornwall On Hudson, it’s ground only for my caffeine rig. So I had to go back to the Wal-Mart today to exchange it. What a joy, two days in a row to the Wal-Mart.

The light of course was still on when I started out for the Wal-Mart. After getting my refund and deciding I would go to the Target down the road a bit to get the new bag of Starbucks I needed there, I realized that at some point, the light went off.

Now, when I leave here to go back to Pittsburgh, I take the same roads I took yesterday and today. The Target takes me closer to the interchange for I84, which is the first leg of the trip back. It’s my theory, that the car, thinking we were heading back to Pittsburgh as we had gone further than the Wal-Mart, was happy and figured it would drop the charade with the warning light. Yeah, sure, the extra 10 or 15 miles on it with the carburetor cleaner flowing through it could have been the cure, but I have my doubts.

A final word about 1996 Saturns and carburetors. I was serious about not knowing if they have them or not. If anyone knows if they do, pass that along. I say this because I am never afraid to admit if I do not know something about cars or anything else. Anne Marcinko told me once how she was embarrassed when someone told her that even though she had a manual transmission she still needed to check the transmission fluid. I laughed, as she did, but when I checked the manual for the Saturn, I was mortified that you do, in fact need to check the fluid on a manual transmission on a regular basis. The dipstick for them is really hard to get at, but when I checked, I was relieved to find there was enough there and it looked cleaned.

So, in short, my car hates New York, never assume you know everything there is to know about your car and the preventive maintenance you are supposed to do on it, and when you buy Gala apples at Wal-Mart that are $1.94 a pound, and the Fuji apples are selling for $1.38 a pound, go through the self-checkout line and ring the Galas through as Fujis. Until they put scan codes on produce, this will save you a bundle over the long run. I said I was cheap …

February 21, 2008, Cornwall On Hudson, New York

Sorry for the long communication blackout. The first full week back home was extremely fulfilling and energizing. The few projects I worked on that week were enjoyable and getting to see friends and family makes it all seem worth it.

Until I got back here of course. The first few days back were lonely and confusing. I missed Lisa and the boys so much I almost packed it in a couple of times to drive home. Luckily work became more and more interesting as the week went along and Connor and Max are both reading me books (a chapter a night from each of them) so it became less and less lonely as the days progressed. And it is a short week as well (President’s Day), with the possibility of becoming even shorter as a huge storm moves in and threatens a “Code Red” for tomorrow at some point. Regardless, I am ready for only the second weekend away from home with lots of videos to catch up on and blogging and scanning to do.

So, I know you are dying to hear some more witty or at least fresh observations of my new surroundings. There are a few that are general to the area and some unique to West Point I’d like to share.

First of all, I don’t really know anyone here. Of course I know my landlord and a couple of the people I work with, but not beyond a face and a rare name. Whenever I see someone I recognize off post outside of work it is generally very gratifying. For instance, the week I was here in December, I met a guy named Dave. Hell if I knew his last name at that point, and remembered his face more than his name. A friendly guy.

While Kathy from Smitchger Realty was showing me around the different apartments and cottages available that week, I was in downtown Cornwall On Hudson, and making some kind of observation about how I did not know anyone around the area yet, and low and behold Dave goes jogging by and tosses out a smiling “Hey Mark!” Kathy kind of looked at me funny. “I just met him today, really,” I said. I mention this because I was in Dave’s cube today as he helped me with some technical things and remembered this from my first week here.

Besides Dave, though, I know that one lady I keep seeing in different places. OK, so I don’t really *know* her, but it is weird to see the same person a couple of times in different places. I first saw her in the Subway in Cornwall. Might be Cornwall On Hudson – I am still learning where one starts and the other blends. It was a particularly nasty, icy day and I did not feel like a Healthy Choice Café Steamer. I have been living on them and they are really good, but even I need some variety now and then.

As I carefully skated across the parking lot at the Cornwall Plaza (now that I think of it, it probably is in Cornwall, although the Homestead Library is in Munhall, but I digress …), I was glad to see there was only one person in line at the Subway. I made my way in and started examining the menu. Nothing different from what’s at any other Subway, but you never know. To my annoyance, the woman at the counter had one of those lists. You know the one I’m talking about, the list of 4 or 5 sandwiches she is ordering for who knows who. A little of this on that one [checks the list], some of those on that one [checks the list again] and some mayo on that one, not too much. And some more lettuce on that one.

She was a shorter, darker woman, maybe Hispanic but she did not have an accent. She did have a necklace on though, and I only remember because it looked like she had been wearing for years. The skin around her neck was a little discolored, not by the metal turning it green or anything like that, but it looked as if she had a rash or a history of rashes where the necklace was. It did not really take too long for her to finish getting her subs, and I ordered and quickly made my way home. I think this was the night I bought the New Zealand wine.

Anyway, the next day, I was off to do laundry [so that tells me it was the same weekend I stayed here and had the bottle of wine] and while the loads I had in were drying, I went shopping at the Price Chopper [think Giant Eagle – more on these stores later] in the same plaza as the Laundromat I was at. I was walking around the store and who should I run into but neck lady. Not a nice name I admit, but much like “Mitch” it will likely stick in references down the road should she resurface at the Subway or Price chopper. Anyway, when I saw her, she looked up at met, and I was not sure if she recognized me, but I almost said, “Hey! How are you?”

My point is, when you don’t know anyone even a familiar face is welcoming, no matter what distracting physical anomaly might frame it.

One other general observation is the ferocity in which drivers here park. Strange term to use to describe how someone might park, but I can’t think of anything more appropriate. I think I first noticed this at the Woodbury Commons Outlet, maybe the Target. But it seems that when people park here, they are doing it with such anger. I am not sure what might prompt this type of behavior. I have seen people do it with no one else around that might be looking to snipe their spot. Maybe I missed something and they were involved in some road rage before getting to the parking lot and are still hopped up on adrenaline. Maybe they are sexually frustrated and this is a manifestation of their desires (I notice it is mostly men who practice this but have also seen women doing it on occasion).

For whatever reasons, I make very sure not to cut between cars when I am walking through parking lots and take extra caution to give drivers the right of way whenever on foot here.

For my last observation [finally! I feel ‘ya] I’d like to take you behind the gates of West Point. Still being a recent addition to what I am learning is a rather unique culture, I feel sometimes I am doing things that are traditionally outside of the norm, or even acceptable at times. Seemingly innocuous acts like using an umbrella appear to draw unwanted attention to me.

So, maybe I am just being a little paranoid, or feel a little out of place when I am walking on post with an umbrella popped open to keep the mist off of me. We get more of that (mist and drizzle) than anything else. And generally, I am not the first to whip out a bumbershoot and battle minimal precipitation. But when there is a steady stream, no matter how light it might be, I am going to keep the ever-growing bald spot on my head as dry as I can.

In space, no one can hear you scream, and in the Army, no one carries umbrellas. I have never seen a cadet or an officer walking under an umbrella. I am sure there is a protocol for it, or at least some type of evasive maneuver for keeping oneself dry when it is raining (camouflage poncho, etc.), but I have yet to even see that. They all walk around like it is a badge of honor to get wet going from one building to another. The cadets I am sure hate it, but the officers seem all “Hoo rah!” about it. Could just be me …

And I feel just as out of place when I am walking around post wearing sunglasses. While there is usually more often a need to brandish an umbrella, there is an occasional need to don sunglasses during my afternoon walks or even in the morning or evening when going back and forth to my car. One thing I noticed is that hardly anyone wears sunglasses. I am sure this is due to uniform restrictions for the Army folks, but even the civilians do not seem to favor shielding their eyes from the sun when common sense tells them otherwise.

Again, maybe I am just being a little too sensitive to this, but I think I can count on less than two hands the number of people I have seen with sunglasses on. Do they think it makes them look suspicious? I worry a little about this when I pull up to the gate on sunny mornings and have my sunglasses on. But the guards have never said anything or given me any damning looks. Until they do, I’ll keep wearing them.

And maybe, just for the hell of it, the next time it rains, I’ll grab my umbrella, throw on my sunglasses and take a nice long walk. That ought to really freak them out. I might not even wait until it rains. That would definitely get me tossed into the psych ward or Gitmo.

Well, what have I learned this week … the Healthy Choice Café Steamers General Tso’s Spicy Chicken is pretty good, but Max might not like it, and I need to call Zach and thank him for loaning me “Hot Fuzz” once I get a chance to watch it this weekend. I have been saving it for a lonely night when I can curl up with a Subway and some New Zealand wine.

Also, I learned that Sink is just as funny with a 4-inch scar on his neck and a brace on as he ever was, and Rich plays a mean Martin.

Thanks for tuning in.