Oh, Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau... how we miss you both.
This entry has already taken a different path than what I had originally intended, so why not continue that trend? Bear with me as I ramble. If I ramble too much, blame the Bombay Sapphire for it; if you read my entry of June 21st you know I can't be held accountable for what I write when I'm under the influence of tempting alcohol.
I remember when Grumpy Old Men came out in 1993. It was about three years before I was due to graduate from high school, and I went to see it with my mother in the theater. Everyone who was there to see it was excited since the film was set in the town of Wabasha, Minnesota -- not all that far from where I grew up (relatively speaking). I thought there were parts of that movie that were outstandingly funny, and parts of it that were outstandingly sad. Regardless, I never thought that the movie might have some sort of unspoken wisdom about the way I would live my life a decade or more hence. A rivalry between friends? An old friendship buried under layers of bitterness and antagonism? A fight over a woman? No, there's absolutely no parallel I can draw in my present life. These are not the droids you are looking for....
Regardless of the parallels that I can draw in my present day, there are a lot of things I identify with in my past. Growing up in Minnesota, going ice-fishing, the way the snow had to be shoveled each and every day, the chance to go snowmobiling. I haven't been snowmobiling in almost 6 years, and I really miss the chance to go out and experience the adrenalie rush of speeding through a crowded wooded area on the back of a snowmobile. It's one of those life-threatening yet completely thrilling experiences that nobody should be deprived of. Ultimately, I'm left with a sense of nostalgia that I find rather hard to explain. Maybe trying to explain it is the wrong way of approaching things, maybe I should use it as the foundation of another entry instead.
Anyway... I've spent most of my day being completely lazy. I slept well over twelve hours today and plan to do the same tomorrow. About the only productive thing I accomplished was going grocery shopping and changing the plates on the Expedition from Minnesota to Illinois. That's right, my truck is now officially registered in my name and with my address after almost two years (prior to that I had left it in my father's name, with the home address of my parents' farm). After the recent news about the way Illinois will use photographic speed enforcement on the roads, I almost wish I had left it registered in Minnesota. Ah well... I approve of the reasoning behind it even if I don't approve of the methods.
It's been a quiet weekend thus far, and I'm hoping that it will continue to be so. I should have been in Minnesota as of 3pm Wednesday evening to meet with chebutykin and to spend time with my family, unfortunately Ra put something of a kabash on that when he stopped eating. The good news is that he's eating a bit more and is showing more signs of energy... but that doesn't change the fact that I'm a heel who missed his mother's birthday. I talked with her for about forty-five minutes last night, though, and it sounds like she and my father will be coming down sometime in August to visit. No word yet if they'll bring my grandfather along.
I'm tired and more than a few sheets to the wind thanks to the power of Bombay Sapphire, so I think I will conclude this entry before I start rambling (perhaps it is too late).
People come, seasons go