As Michael Jordan so eloquently put it when announcing his return from his first retirement, “I’m back.”
OK, so maybe my return to my blog isn’t quite the same as Jordan’s return to basketball, but much like back in 1995, it’s long overdue.
It’s been 24 days since my last post, but the just because I haven’t been writing doesn’t mean things haven’t been happening.
The past few weeks have been very busy. Not only did I get a new job (after being without for a little over a year) but we moved.
Not like an around the block move, but a pack up all of our stuff and move to another city (Memphis), in another state (Tennessee), nearly 700 miles from where Tammy and I have spent the last 13+ years move. You can catch up here and here.
There have been numerous times when I wanted to write about things that happened, but simply didn’t have the time… or energy.
This One Time, at Band Camp
Like the time when Tammy broke down crying because she hadn’t packed any of her short-sleeve shirts (she was overwhelmed with all of the packing).
Like the time she cried after dealing with the idiots at Comcast all day and then she couldn’t the TV to work. We’ve since gotten the TV to work so all is well with the in the World of Tammy.
Like the time I was worried I was going to get a speeding ticket… in a U-Haul, while towing my car. (Savannah rode with me the entire way).
Like how I got walkie talkies for me and Tammy to use while we were driving and how Tammy would sing to me over them. She also told me she could listen to the new Bruno Mars song “like five times in a row.”
Like how we looked at seven different apartments in one day and drove over 1,700 miles in four days.
Like how Tammy “played wife” for my first day of work. But I had to remind her that I was going to work and not first grade after she include Reese’s Pieces and cookies.
Like how we tested our first Mexican place, and while it wasn’t close to Mixteca, it did cause Tammy to say, “frozen margaritas are for lightweights.”
Like how we went to a place called the “Chow Time Buffet” because the sign said Asian / Southern Home Cooking and I HAD to try it. Tammy said she wouldn’t go back because the Asian food wasn’t great, but I have a feeling me and Mr. Chow may become good friends.
Gotta Go to Work, Work All Day…
Tomorrow will mark my first week of work and while I am enjoying the work I’m definitely the odd man out.
I’m working on the catalogs for a company than makes and sells high performance parts for all types of cars, including race cars.
The guys in my department are in a NASCAR Fantasy League and while I’ve run multiple fantasy leagues, I can’t even imagine how a NASCAR one would work.
Don’t get me wrong, the people in my department are great and but they know WAY more about cars and parts, like where they go and what they do, than I ever will, but I’m looking forward to learning.
You Ain’t From ’round Here
Tammy has often said how easily my Southern accent comes back when we would visit my family. I explained to her that it’s because it’s a “lazy language” and we just drop letters off words.
Tammy doesn’t like it when I “revert” back to speaking Southern and most of the time I don’t even recognize when I’m doing it.
But it appears that talk more Southern at home and more “northern” at work. For example, the other day I said the word “lantern” with the “t” pronounced when I was at work, but when I got home and told Tammy the story I said, “lan’ern.”
I’ve often told Tammy that the “g” in pudding is silent, that it’s called banana puddin’ or ’nana puddin’. But when I was telling my co-workers about Chow Time I said they had rice and bread pudding, with the “g.”
I heard myself say it and was so ashamed but it wasn’t like I could take it back and say, “I meant to say puddin’.”
So now I think they all think I talk funny.
Old Man Winters
They may be thinking I talk funny, but I know I’m the old man of the bunch.
In fact, I can even feel the “old man” creeping in, most of the time after lunch. He usually starts in my legs, which haven’t seen this much sitting over the past 12 months.
When I get up from my desk, I sometimes pretend like I’m a rodeo cowboy because it makes me feel better to think I feel this way after being thrown from a bull instead of sitting in front of a computer all day.
It usually takes a few steps before things stop creaking and blood starts flowing enough to where I can walk normal again. Today I can feel it in my hands. I could try to say they feel that way because of the storms that passed through the area, but while that would sound cool it would make me feel even older.
I’m older than everyone here, which isn’t really a big deal, except for the fact that one of my co-workers said he was 8 in 1992, the same year I was a freshman in college. Ouch.
Now they don’t call me Pops or Old Man yet, or at least not to my face anyway, and mentally I don’t feel that older than them.
My body on the other hand…