Janicek.com

This story is not one of my proudest moments. In fact, charges could have been pressed and I could have gone to a juvenile detention facility. I punched Michael Bolton on the top of his head. I have no idea why I suddenly remembered this incident. I suddenly experienced a flashback.

If memory serves me correctly, I was thirteen or fourteen years of age. I rode a short school bus to school. Not that kind of short bus. Bus #24 was Bellville Independent School District’s budgeted mode of transportation for those who lived in the Cat Spring area. There weren’t many of us on this bus seeing as how Cat Spring‘s population was approximately eight humans and two dogs.

On this particular Winter morning, yours truly was flu-stricken. I had the flu bad enough to where I should have stayed home that day. As I boarded the bus, Michael Bolton either said something or kicked me in the shin. I can’t remember the details, but whatever he did warranted my fist slamming into the top of his head.

Michael Bolton was the grandson of Norbert Bolton, our one-wrinkle-away-from-being-a-corpse bus driver. Michael Bolton was also quite younger than me. He was an annoying little twit. I shouldn’t have punched this little guy, but a combination of my health status, the fact that this kid is probably still getting pummeled to this day and the notion of punching someone named Michael Bolton, I just couldn’t help but let one loose on his noggin.

I got into trouble with the bus driver, I was “written up” by the school and I had my bus riding privileges revoked for a few weeks. Man, those were a rough few weeks. I got to sleep in because my mom now had to drive me to school. The commute to Bellville from Cat Spring in a standard vehicle is approximately 12 minutes. A commute on a dilapidated short bus driven by a walking, talking and breathing mummy who is built like a cowboy and is the grandfather of a child who shares the same name as a contemporary music [insert word] takes approximately an hour and seven minutes.

This incident didn’t leave me with anything valuable. I guess it’s just nice to be able to say that I’ve punched Michael Bolton. Now if I could just meet someone named Bob Saget.

I don’t know why I’m compelled to write about the events of the past weekend and week’s end. Oh well. Last Friday Elise went to Killeen to visit friends, one of which just had a baby. I went over to Tommy’s and watched the Lakers finally win a game against the Spurs.

We slept in late on Saturday morning and then headed to Central Market and then to my parents’ house. We got to Mom and Dad’s around 5 p.m. I cooked Arrabbiatta with farfalle pasta. Everyone said they liked it. I didn’t. I think I should have sprung for a better prosciutto. We also had Caesar salads a la Central Market. I cannot get enough of CM’s Caesar dressing. I don’t know what it is – I just love it. I’m seriously thinking about getting a part-time job at CM just so I can have an inside advantage to acquiring that recipe. I’m starting to twitch and foam at the mouth just typing about it. I’m scratching my arms now. I’m about to curl in the the fetal position and place myself in a corner.

We chatted for a while after dinner and then all went outside to start on the Jeep’s soft top. Mom and Dad went inside to watch their Sopranos DVDs. Elise and I stayed out in the barn most of the night and finished installing the soft top.

We woke up on Sunday to Dad cooking bacon and eggs. We hung out in the living room most of the day and talked. I watched the Lakers beat the Spurs again. Elise and I headed home at 6 p.m. We got back to Austin just as the sun had gone down. We hopped on the trusty Shadow, went to Target and purchased Hawaiian themed seat covers for the Jeep – hibiscus and surfboards.

Elise and I are really keeping track of our investments. I’ve had two 401(k) accounts in my life thus far. Upon leaving the company that offered my first 401(k), I rolled my investments into an IRA. When Vidbook.com closed, I rolled my second 401(k) into the same IRA. It’s just easier to manage one retirement account. I guess if I have the option to contribute to another 401(k) plan, I will and I’ll have to keep track of it as well as the IRA.

Elise has also had two 401(k) accounts. The first one was offered to her when she was working at Circle C. The second 401(k) account was when she was working at Sallie Mae. We received a letter from Fidelity yesterday stating that her money would be distributed to her because she a) no longer works at Sallie Mae and b) she has a balance that is smaller than their set limit and to which is not being contributed.

Anyway I like Fidelity because we were able to speak to a human after a short and relatively painless browse through their voice activated, automated menu. This was after 9 p.m. My retirement savings is with Prudential. They work normal business hours. I’m sure they take three hour lunches too. But I like Prudential’s online portfolio manager better than Fidelity’s. I don’t know why I just wrote about that. That was nerdy. I should have used that space to practice my west coast gangsta lyrics. Oh well. Too late now. I did notice something though: When I type the word “gangsta”, I get a little red squiggly line underneath it, indicating that it is misspelled. I wonder how long it will be until we all will have the delightful opportunity to work with software that utilizes an ebonics spellchecker. Hey! There it goes again. “ebonics” gets a squiggly red line too.

Anyway, we called Fidelity and setup a rollover IRA for Elise. While we were at it, we decided to have Elise’s 401(k) from Circle C disbursed and rolled into this new IRA that we’d just setup. The only problem is that we need to get a request for disbursement form from Elise’s former employer. Elise’s 401(k) plan was provided by a company named GCP Management, LLC. GCP took over Circle C shortly before Elise quit. GCP no longer owns/runs Circle C. Elise’s pay stubs have an address, but no phone number. We couldn’t find a GCP Management, LLC anywhere [online] to get a phone number. We called information, no luck.

I decided to e-mail the Oklahoma City Chamber of Commerce and explain our situation. A nice lady wrote me back and knew nothing of GCP Management. I wrote her back and told her that they used to manage a public golf course. That helped. She e-mailed me back to tell me that Golf Club Partners is listed with the address that I provided for her. She gave me their phone number. So now we have to call them to request a disbursement.

The moral of the story? Practice your gangsta rap every chance you get. It’s easy to become distracted by proper grammer and your financial security.

Last night I drove the Jeep to the Exxon Tigermart that is across the street from our apartment complex. Two girls pulled into the spot next to me. They got out of their truck as I exited the Jeep. I left the Jeep running. As I was walking to the door, a policeman exited the store. He said to me: “Hey dude, don’t leave your vehicle running.”

“Why?” I asked defensively.

“Because some transient could come up and take your vehicle.” the officer retorted.

Have you ever noticed that law enforcement officers like to use the word vehicle. They prefer to say vehicle instead of car, truck, van, motorcycle or a skateboard being pulled by a group of squirrels. I wonder if they talk like that at home. “Diane, Bobby and Rebecca, step out of the vehicle, we are at the park now.”

Anyway, I thought about raising a stink but I really didn’t want the officer to come over and talk to me. You see, I had just had a glass of wine and was afraid that the officer might smell alcohol on me. I know that I wasn’t legally intoxicated, it’s just that I had just had a glass of wine at the apartment (right across the street) and I could still taste it in my mouth. I really didn’t want to be subjected to a field sobriety test in front of a very busy Tigermart. I really hate making a fool of myself unintentionally.

I went into Tigermart and made my purchase. One of the girls that had gotten out of the truck next to me called from across the store: “I’m glad that cop made you turn your car off, I was going to steal it!”

I responded: “Yeah, because we live in the ghetto.” I said that jokingly because we live in a nice area. I do understand that a transient can be lurking anywhere and it is good practice to take your keys with you.

We had a meeting at work yesterday. It was the first “large” meeting I’ve been to in the four months that I’ve been here. By “large” I mean seven people were in attendance. A coworker, my boss and I meet every couple of weeks to discuss production. Those meetings are usual where bossman says “This is what needs to be done”. Then we go back to our desks and do what needs to be done. Those meetings take anywhere from five to thirty minutes.

I enjoyed yesterday’s meeting because bossman discussed the company’s finances and operations. He shed light on how the company operates and that made me feel like a member of something good – not like some cog in a corporate machine.

I thought about my last job at that one place in Temple and the countless meetings I had to attend. I spent so much time in meetings that I didn’t have any time to do any work. If I tried to get started on some project, I’d have to go to a meeting before I got my hands dirty and come back not knowing what I was doing. I would say I spent 75% of my time in meetings. I would sit there and listen to people talk about perspectives, objectives and strategies and write on whiteboards with their fancy dry-erase pens or stare blankly at a Powerpoint presentation. Well, I used to listen. It didn’t take long to realize that there was no point, so I would practice on my drawing skills. I came up with some real humdingers. I wonder what I did with those drawings…

Okay, so I’m trying to grow up. Elise and I spent Saturday evening and Sunday with my parents. We talked a lot about finances (credit and stocks specifically). A branch from the motivation tree fell and hit me on the head.

Elise and I are budgeting. We have our short-term financial goals and we’re doing our darnedest to achieve those goals. Since we both don’t have benefits, I really started thinking about our investments. I’m comfortable even though the market is still ugly. I decided to heed the advice of one financial advisor from our credit union. He said to invest in something that you like. I’m going to keep all of my stocks where they are but I also wanted a “fun” (yet profitable) investment. I bought some shares in Harley Davidson. Buying those stocks makes looking at our portfolio fun.

Nothing really new today either! Ummmm… I downloaded some Deadsy the other night. They do a good cover of that Today’s Tom Sawyer song by Rush.

El went grocery shopping today. It’s good to finally have some food. I hope she doesn’t get too used to this housewife lifestyle!… we’d be broke in no time.

Tomorrow we’re off to see my parents and spend the weekend with them.

Elise and I went to my parents’ house this past weekend. Elise and I woke up on Saturday and went outside to put the soft top on the Jeep only to realize that we were missing the first part we needed. We left the hard top off and went for a drive in Bellville. Then Mom and Dad went for a drive.

We picked dewberries and blackberries from the roadside fences later that afternoon.

Elise and I came home late on Sunday.

In other news… Elise really wanted tomato basil (bah-zil) soup the other day so I made her some marinara sauce. By the way, I threw (bah-zil) in there so you would know how I like to pronounce basil. But really, I made marinara sauce. I’m really questioning the Barefoot Contessa’s recipes. It seems like most of the stuff that I cook from that book turn out quite ho-hum. I made some hummus a la the BC and it tasted like pasty ocean water. This tomato basil soup that I made tasted like bland marinara.

So I went to Central Market last night to buy mozzarella cheese. I wanted to make fried mozzarella sticks to go with my marinara-sauce-that-was-supposed-to-be-soup. While I was there, I picked up a small container of Central Market’s Caesar salad dressing and a head of romaine. I walked over to the chef’s deli with a big, friendly smile on my face and politely asked if I could have the recipe for their Caesar dressing.

“No”.

I slowly placed my basket on the ground beside me, I then laid flat on my stomach and kicked my feet repeatedly while I cried. I screamed, I turned near purple and snot began streaming from my nose. People stared and one lady actually stopped and started patting me on the back. I cooed for a moment but then remembered that Central Market wasn’t giving up their Caesar salad dressing recipe.

Okay, I didn’t actually cry. I said something polite, walked away and immediately began the mocking: “nyah nyah nyah we don’t give out our recipes nyah nyah nyah”

Now I’m on a mission. I want that recipe. If anyone has (or has “resources”) Central Market’s Caesar salad dressing recipe, let me know. The stuff is just too expensive. See, you have to weigh the dressing at the salad bar. Any weighstation salad bar can’t make money off the weight of lettuce alone. Those scales are really sensitive so any heavy object will, of course, cost significantly more in a relative sort of way. Or something.

Anyway, I figure I’ll wait a while. If nobody contacts me regarding the secret recipe, I might just go back to Central Market and demand to know the ingredients for dietary purposes. I’m a Central Market Caesar salad dressing junky. That’s fun to say. “I’m a Central Market Caesar salad dressing junky”. Now sing it, kind of to the tune of “I wish I were an Oscar Meyer wiener”. Okay, now stop – you’re acting stupid.

I went home and made fried mozzarella sticks for Elise and myself. The trick to making good fried mozz sticks is to dredge them in flour and throw them in the freezer for half an hour or so. Take them out, dredge in well-beaten eggs and then in bread crumbs (mixed with herbs). Fry at no hotter than 375 degrees for a few seconds.

Elise and I watched American Idol and ate our salads and fried cheese. Sometime today I imagine I will begin some sort of constipated, bloated, garlic and anchovy halitosis induced fit from salad dressing withdrawels.

I had to make a very tough decision yesterday. I had to decide between two Little Brothers. The Enrollment Specialist from BBBS called me yesterday to tell me that they had two Little Brothers for me to choose from. I had her e-mail the information to me.

I have to admit, I got a little choked up after reading the boys’ bios. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not pitying them, it’s just the lack of a male role model in their lives and how both of them sound like great kids. It was really hard having to pick one.

Now I wait until BBBS calls me to setup an initial meeting with my Little Bro and his mother – should be by next Thursday.

Elise had a really bad day yesterday. Nothing bad happened, it was just one of those days in which she didn’t feel top notch.

I came home for lunch and realized that she was in a bad mood. I went back to work and, well, worked. After work, I hopped over to Central Market and bought a ton of those little roses – the pink ones that just say Spring.

After picking out the flowers, I saw a large straw bonnet that could make for a nice ensemble. As I approached the cashier, I saw a blue tube top shirt that read “TEXAS” across the front.

I ran out to the Jeep, changed into my tube top, put on my bonnet, rode out to the greenbelt and skipped with my pink roses in-hand.

Ahem. I left Central Market and took the bushel of pink roses to my wife. That cheered her up a little.

Elise is looking for a job and getting stressed.

She made a yogurt and cucumber soup for dinner. I don’t know how (nor can I without sounding rude) to say it… we both didn’t really like it – which was fine… trust me, ask to try some of my authentic Mexican mole some time.

After dinner we went to Petsmart to pick up some cat food and then headed to Baskin Robbins for a free scoop of ice cream. Upon nearing Basking Robbins we noticed a line that stretched across two faces of the building. We both decided we would have much rather waited in line for tickets to see Great White’s most recent show.

With ice cream on the mind, we drove up one block and indulged at Dairy Queen. We came home and I watched the Mavericks lose. Blah.

I don’t know what happened with the website today. I seem to have lost that long entry that detailed the events of this past weekend. I really don’t feel like typing all of that stuff again.

I took a long lunch today and went to the dentist. I haven’t been to the dentist in three years. Elise went late last month. We both should have gone when I was working at that place in Temple and had really good benefits.

I’m not waiting that long to go to the dentist again. I know Mom, I said that last time, but this time, I mean it. Luckily your humble narrator didn’t have any cavities, but it did take Marilisa a while to jackhammer all of the tartar from my grill. I like my dentist, Dr. Cox. He’s a pretty cool guy. He was ribbing me about the time I knocked my front two teeth out when I slipped on the icy ground and fell on my face back in February of 1996.

They all know to be gentle with me. See, when I busted my choppers out back in ’96, I had to go to an oral surgeon because I had broken my upper mandible (I guess that’s what you’d call it – I cracked the bone under my nose). Mr. This Won’t Hurt a Bit Oral Surgeon didn’t really wait until the anesthesia kicked in before he straddled my body and broke my jaw back into place with his bare hands. That hurt. Ever since then, I don’t hesitate to tell a dentist or endodontist that I’m a wimp.

Marilisa was very nice, as always. While she was chiseling away, she sang a few of her songs for me.

I was adamant about scheduling and appointment for a cleaning in six months. Luckily, this go-around I didn’t have any cavities. I was pretty surprised seeing how I hadn’t been to the dentist in so long.

In other news… I woke up early yesterday, took a shower, ate breakfast – my usual morning ritual. I walked to the mailbox, came back upstairs and sat on the patio. The first piece of mail that I opened was from Prudential Financial. I thought to myself: “Hmm… this must be important, this is who handles my IRA – A solid company that I’ve trusted for a few years now”. I opened my mail and was amazed to find that I had been approved for a $10,000 Quantum MasterCard with a shockingly low interest rate (even after the “introductory term”). A little piece of paper fell out from the mix of return envelopes and authorization forms telling me that it’s okay to have more than one MasterCard as well. Prudential wasted a stamp and some paper on me.

I laughed. We don’t use credit cards. If we don’t have the cash, we don’t need it. If we need something that badly, we’ll save for it. If I can’t sleep at night, I think about the other people in this world who lose sleep because they can’t find a way to pay their MasterCard bill and are about to lose their house. That usually puts me to sleep. That or that Trading Spaces show that Elise likes to watch.

For a split second I thought: “$10,000 could get me on that Harley pretty quickly!” I laughed again. Then I got on my bicycle and rode to work.

I missed out on a great opportunity this morning. I’m still kicking myself for not carpe dieming… You see, I’m still riding my bicycle to work. I ride right in front of an elementary school each morning. Today traffic was noticeably slow near the school. As I got closer, I realized that there was a mother duck and her 8-10 ducklings, waddling behind her in the middle of the road.

I laughed out loud. As I pedaled away, I notice a woman who seemed to be the owner of the ducks, walking up the street, slowly chasing her herd. She had on a sun dress and a pink bonnet-thing that tied beneath her chin. The ducks continued on their western trail, waddling underneath cars that were attempting to get their owners to work. I believe the number of cars involved in this hold up had grown to a crippling four.

I was running late. I was late to work on Wednesday, I didn’t want to be late again. I really wanted to turn my 7-speed steed around and do some suburban duck herding. I guess I was just caught up in the notion of baby ducks causing a traffic jam in front of an elementary school, so I kept pedaling and laughing. I should have turned around though. I’m sure that lady could have used some help. I’m sure my boss would have understood had I stopped to help rustle up some web-footed yard birds.

I sat at work all day and thought: “Man, I wonder if that was my one chance in this life… my one chance to be a real cowboy. I could’ve herded them ducks real good – yessir, I sure could’ve. I could be a real cowboy if I was just given the chance…”

I just might stop and lean by a fence post over yonder at that there Sunset Valley elementary school at days-end. I reckon I could stand there for a bit, a dried weed twixt the ol’ cheek and gum, kick the heel of my faithful Avia Cantilever running shoe into the dust and wait for the owner of them ducks to come around. I figger I could ask her how she fared this mornin’ with that loose herd. I’d really like to know. It can’t be an easy life, what with ducks gettin’ through your fence and all and tyin’ up city dwellers fancy traffic time.

I reckon I could ask the owner of them ducks if maybe she’d like to have me keep an eye out for stray ducks on my ride to work each morning. I reckon I wouldn’t mind helping out a little.