Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time is one of my all-time favorite books. I’ve read it numerous times; the subject matter is just fascinating. When I learned that Hawking had written a second book, The Universe in a Nutshell, a follow-up/sequel to BHT, I wanted it. Although it was published way back in 2001, I only heard of it maybe four or five years ago.

I don’t often have much time for pleasure reading nowadays, and I still prefer to buy my books at an actual brick-and-mortar store, rather than online, so picking up the book became sort of a “some day” thing. On those rare occasions when I was able to run in a book store, like when with the family at the mall, I always made sure to look for The Universe in a Nutshell. Every time I found it, it was in 30-40-dollar hardback form. I really prefer a paperback — it’s much more portable and easier to hold for reading in bed or at a restaurant table. I could never find the trade paperback form, anywhere.

There’s a Borders bookstore near my office, and when they started their whole going out of business thing, I made sure to check for the book there. At first they had it, still for 40 bucks. Then later, when they were starting real discounts, they didn’t have it. Then just last week, I happened to be out walking for lunch, and saw the store was down to 30-50% markdowns on everything. I figured I might as well peek in and see if by some luck they had Universe.

It wasn’t on the shelf with the other physics and science books, and a worker said she thought they were sold out of it. So, disappointed, again, I started walking towards the front doors to leave. Just out of the corner of my eyes, a rack of hardback books, at the end of an aisle, caught my eye. That looks like… it is!

There, staring me in the face, about ten feet away was The Universe in a Nutshell. But it was the hardback version. Shoot. But looking at it closer, it was actually the dual book A Brief History of Time and The Universe in a Nutshell in one cover. The price sticker said, “15.00”. Oh, cool. Both books for the price of half of one.

I grabbed the book, the only copy of it, apparently, and nearly rushed to the check out. At the register, the book rang up at less than $11.00. Score!

I was smiling and clutching it to my chest as I exited the store. I felt like how I imagine a 10 year old boy feels with the latest Harry Potter book. Or how a 16 year old girl feels with the latest Twilight book. Hmm. I need better analogies. But I’m a big old nerd happy about finding a book on theoretical physics, so I don’t know if there is a good analogy that would make me look less dorky. My mind just comes up with old comic books and classic sci-fi novels.

Oh hell. Screw it. I have The Universe in a Nutshell, and I’m excited about reading it. Now I just have to find the time.

Bullgrit

My little 6-year-old boy loves me so much, and that is the best feeling in the world. Each week, he brings home from school work he has created in class. Pictures he has drawn and stories he has written as well as worksheets and tests he’s completed. Often, the pictures and stories he makes are of he and I doing things.

He’s drawn and written about us playing and sliding at the Great Wolf Lodge, playing soccer in the cul de sac, going to a local corn maze, and many other adventures. Sometimes I don’t realize how impressed he is with some of our activities until I see the story and drawing about it some weeks later. These little surprises just make my heart glow.

Sometimes I feel like I’m such a “bad daddy,” by making him clean up his room, or by not making him mac & cheese for every meal, or by taking 10 minutes after I tell him, “Just give me one more minute.” And there are so many big experiences I can’t wait to share with him when he gets older, that sometimes I forget even the little experiences when he’s young are important.

He still holds my hand when we cross a parking lot, (while his big brother walks on his own). He sits in my lap when we watch a video on my computer, (while his big brother stands beside me). He wants to climb into bed with us when he wakes up in the morning, (while his big brother just wants to play with his toys).

I love my little boy. And I am so happy that he loves me back.

Bullgrit

As I prefaced last week, my brother was in town with his band for a gig at a local tavern. The wife and I got a nap in the afternoon, then dropped the boys off with her mother for the night, had dinner with my mom and brogrit, and eventually wound up at a bar at 10:00 pm. That’s right — we were out for a night at a bar. With my mom. Yeah, things were gonna get happenin’! I don’t know what, but something. Probably.

By the time the band took the stage, two of Cowgrit’s friends had joined us at our table. Yeah, while the rock star was workin’ on stage, I was hangin’ with the ladies. And two of them weren’t even related to me. Don’t hate the playa.

The band blasted the 80s rock and metal; the crowd sang and drank, and danced and drank, and flirted and drank. I don’t know what was more entertaining the watching the band or watching the crowd.

None of the pics I took do justice to the scene. The tavern is shaped like a square doughnut, with four bars in the “hole.” So the crowd wound from the front of the stage, back to where I took the above photo, then around to my left, to circle around back up to the side of the stage. No one shot could capture the whole crowd.

The layering effect of the crowd was interesting. Right up in front of the stage were the women, (“women” — pshaw; college girls.) Behind them was a layer of men, (college boys). Further back was the mingling layer, where couples were hooking up. Then the far rear layer, was the older, (read: over 24), section. Later in the night, the ladies and I made our way up to the stage-front layer.

The ladies danced, my mom threw up the rock-horns, (after my instructions on how to make the sign), and I hung back a bit out the direct line of the brain-scramble zone of the speakers. Then a little after midnight, it was time to take my ladies home.

After getting my ladies safely in the quiet of our home, I headed back out to the bar. There, by myself, I was the proverbial fly on the wall. I got a kick out of just watching everyone “having a good time.” Folks drinking, flirting, dancing, singing, generally enjoying themselves and entertaining me.

Way back when, before I met my wife, and during our dating years, I did the club scene on a regular basis. So this wasn’t nearly the first time I’ve been in it. But it’s been right many years, and this was one of the very few times when I was so disconnected from it while being in it. Even when I worked in a bar, I was involved in the scene, just from a different point of view. This Saturday night, I was really just a spectator.

At 2:00 a.m., the show ended. The band left the stage, the lighting changed, and last call was announced. I hung out with brogrit “backstage” for a bit as the crowd started slowly dispersing over the next half hour. I met the rest of the band, and a friend from brogrit’s and my hometown who had come up with a couple of her friends to see the show. (Hi Jennifer!)

The tavern staff had already started cleaning up before the last of the crowd had vacated. Once the place was mostly clear, the hometown friend and I helped brogrit pack up his drum kit and gear.

A bar after the crowd is gone is a completely different place. I experienced this change over many times when I worked at a saloon for a stint in 89-90.

The building was mostly quiet except for the scrape of tables and chairs being moved across the wood floors, and the clink of glasses being picked up and put away. My head was numb and there was a constant ringing in my ears, and my body had that tingle of having gone too long without sleep, but I was enjoying seeing the behind the scenes action. Once we got the drums all packed up, brogrit and I headed out.

We arrived at my house at 3:00, where the only sound was that constant ringing in my ears. I ate a couple of brownies in the kitchen before heading upstairs for bed. Since our boys were having their sleepover at Cowgrit’s mom’s house, my mom was asleep in Calfgrit6’s bed, and brogrit took Calfgrit10’s bed. I joined my sleeping beauty in our room. It took me almost 30 seconds to fall into a solid, deep sleep.

Bullgrit

Brogrit is coming to town this weekend for a gig in a downtown pub. Our mom, Cowgrit, and I are all going to stay up way past 9:00 to go see him play. I won’t have a problem with the night-time hours, as I often don’t go to bed till 11 or midnight normally anyway, but I’m wondering if the ladies will be able to hang with me. Oh the curse of middle-age circadian rhythms.

Yeah, I remember the days when “shit don’t start happenin’ till eleven.” Get off work, eat, change clothes, watch TV, maybe nap, and then eventually, long after the sun went down, get in the car and head out to some club or other. Have a good time until two or three in the morning — that’s when this state enforces last call. Then head home, to bed, sleep for a couple-few hours, get up, start the new day.

I mentioned in another post how I once worked several months as a waiter in a saloon/club. Whether working or dancing, I’d be up well past midnight a few times a week. And if I wasn’t at a club, I’d be at a friend’s house with a group of gamers playing some D&D or Shadowrun or something. I could go a few days getting just three hours of sleep a night. I’d make up for the loss on the weekend by sleeping in till 2:00 in the afternoon one day. No problems.

But now, if I stay up past midnight, it screws me up for several days. I can hang with staying up till 11:00 nearly every night, but there is something about that hour where the date turns over that kills me.

So, anyway, we’ll see how well the ladies can handle the late night when brogrit is banging on his drums.

It’s been several years since I last saw my brother playing on stage. I’m looking forward to seeing and hearing him again.

Bullgrit