Some things never change

I've probably mentioned it WAY in the past (I'm too lazy to search my own archives). I used to play in bands off and on up until C was born. My Grandmother insisted I learn to play piano. I started lessons when I was 7. Then when I hit middle school I took up saxophone. I played sax in the marching/concert band and piano up until I graduated from HS. Around 16 my Mom gave me a guitar. I hooked up with a guy in the HS marching band and he taught me a few chords etc. We hooked up with a drummer and thus began my rock n roll career (as much as it was).

We had a band that jammed in the drummer's basement up until we all started going to different schools etc. When I was in college, I hooked up with a "real" musician. Scott is a guitarist. He had been in several professional bands. As in, they actually got paid to go around gigging. They recorded several really good originals. They had mixing boards, lights, a truck. By the time I met Scott, he was on the back end of the life of that particular band and was looking for a new project. He was/is one of the best guitarists I have ever had the pleasure to play with. He's not technically the best. I mean if you stack him up against say, Joe Satriani etc. he wouldn't come out on top. BUT he would be a close 2nd. He also knows how to play in a band. A lot of guys hack at guitar. But you put them with a drummer and bass and they can't put it together. He could. VERY well.

We definitely had this old school/new school thing going. He was 35 at the time. The rest of us were 20-21ish. We spent several years putting together our own songs and recording them (yes we actually went into a studio). A couple of songs got some play for a few music execs. I heard one song actually got an audition in front of Ozzy (but the guy who said that was a pathological liar so I never really took it seriously).

At that time Scott was balancing a "real" job, girlfriend who was NOT into the whole rock groupie thing, and us young aspiring, ambitious punk types. About the time the young guys were all nearing graduation, Scott and his girlfriend split. His house became band HQ. We actually converted his living room into a practice room complete with carpet on the walls, a surplus parachute hanging from the ceiling etc. All in a futile and misguided effort to keep the neighbors happy.

As my own graduation approached, Scott decided he was ready for the full time musician life. He came to me one day with a proposition. Move in with him. Commit to music full time. Record. Gig. Be a rock star.

I was living penny to penny. I just spent 4 years getting a degree for a career that paid better than the $50/few and far between gigs I was getting as a musician. I declined. And he fired me. On the spot.

A month or two later I graduated. It took me a while to land a job but eventually I did. I married my girlfriend. We bought a house. She and I had troubles. We divorced. I was a bachelor again. My career was moving forward. Then one day I was walking to my office coming from a meeting and ran face to face with a guy who looked REALLY familiar. It took a minute for us to recognize each other. We knew we knew each other almost immediately. It was Scott. 8ish or so years later. He was in full rock star mode. Long hair. Superstar sunglasses.

He and his, now wife, had moved to my City. She had a job in the very same building where I worked. He was still a full time musician. Teaching during the days. Trying to put something together to gig at nights. I was a bachelor. Didn't have much to do at nights. What the hell?

So I jumped back into the musician life. We practiced almost every night. Partied a lot. Put together a band. Scott's wife was the singer. I played bass. Over the next year or two we did the musician thing. We only had a couple of gigs before the wife decided she was NOT into the music thing and quit. So we streamlined and went for the power blues trio thing. Scott was phenomenal with the Blues. He could play Stevie Ray like Stevie Ray. Eric Clapton like..well.. Eric Clapton. You get the picture.

This version of the band gigged a lot more. We played a bar on the beach frequently. We were regulars at a couple of dives. Nothing earth shattering but we had our moments.

Things sort of came to a stop on a series of coincidental happenings. First, our drummer's wife was getting her Phd at a local university. She finally got her degree and got a MASSIVE job offer on the other coast. I was dating Mrs. There were a couple of gigs that were really tough. Mrs' Father died on a day we had a gig. She told me to go ahead and do the gig. My head really wasn't into it but a job is a job. Scott needed the money. I felt like I needed to do the gig for him more than me. It was horrible. He was in a weird frame of mind. The bar was a middle aged meat market. The audience was more into hooking up with each other than appreciating music. Scott went into this 30 minute jam on Hey Joe. Honestly, it was boring. I got bored. The drummer got bored. The audience obviously didn't care. He finished with what he thought was a screaming end to the sound of crickets.

He stormed off the stage. Not long after we were sitting around contemplating continuing the gig or not. He made a really horrible, poorest taste joke I've ever heard about Mrs. Dad (or anyone's Dad for that matter).

I found out later he was stoned out of his mind. He decided he would try to emulate some of his idols to see if it would really make him more creative. I thought it was only a once in a while thing. But years later he told me he was using all the time back then. Different things. He was experimenting to see what was better. One day it would be weed, another, shrooms, yet another 'cid.

Anyway, the final blow came with C. It was only a few months after the gig from hell I found out Mrs was pregnant. We decided to get married. The drummer moved. I was a little miffed at Scott for his behavior. The band basically died.

This is all a REALLY long preface to say, I saw Scott over the weekend. He was doing a small gig with one of his buddies at the beach. Mrs hasn't seen Scott in about 6-7 years. I saw him once last summer.

It was still the same ol' thing. He was playing the blues. The guy he was gigging with was this totally frenetic, hippie, rock star wannabe whirlwind of a musician. He struck me as a total solo deal. I could see it in Scott's face the guy would completely and unexpectedly change gears leaving Scott hanging in mid-solo. I think if you put him in a band he would eventually melt down because there wasn't enough attention on him. Unfortunately, I don't think it was very good. They just didn't mesh well together.

We got to chat with Scott for a while. It was kind of sad. His wife left him about 4 months ago. They had been together 18 years. They met just a few months after the college band folded when she was barely 19 and he was 35ish. When we were gigging later, I always had this feeling he was barely holding on to her. She struck me as very... flighty and into the moment. I got the sense he was making a lot of compromises with his lifestyle to keep her.

So once again, he was throwing himself into music. His house is now converted into a studio man cave kind of thing. He's teaching music 3 days a week and gigging 3 nights a week with a regular band. One day I'd love to go back to college town and hear him in his true element and not with the beach guy.

I did notice a groupie type propped up on the railing impossibly close to him and his amp throughout the guy. Perhaps the future ex-Mrs Scott? For his sake I hope he truly gets to pursue music for real. He's pushing 60 now. There have been decades where he has been held back either through his own demons or others.

Happy Weekend Bitches!!

Ahhhh... What a way to start the weekend. What have I done so far? Not a damned thing. It's almost 10 and I am still in bed. These sheets feel way too good. Only thing better would be a naked body draped across my side... the tingles of nerve endings, just moments ago firing at 11.

Eh well.. I think I'll stretch... STREEEEETTTCH.... squeeze the boys cause I can... Helloo there boys... finish up this post and maybe lay here a bit longer.

Have an awesome holiday weekend!

I'm a pansy

I'm going to admit something here I don't admit anywhere else.

Sometimes I fear the darkness in my own house. Usually I manage just fine. But if I get up in the middle of the night my imagination runs away with me and I picture bad guys hiding in the shadows. Which at night are EVERYFUCKINGWHERE!!

I don't let my fears get to me. I'm just extra diligent. Check the corners when entering a room. Look for signs of a break-in. Glance at the door locks on all the exterior doors when I pass by etc. It's a good exercise, in my mind at least, to think of contingencies. I.e. get jumped from corner A, how do I disengage and get to the weapon in room B etc..

I've even had some comical moments when I walked into my bathroom and almost feinted when I saw the shadowy reflection of myself in the big bathroom mirror in low light. Expect bad guys and you really do see them everywhere.

Last night I was falling asleep. Well.. not really. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned towards my night stand. My phone was on the night stand lying face up. The little charging light was on. I swear I saw it moving. Slowing twisting from side to side. The case for it has this button on the back. It snaps onto my belt clip via the button. It's smaller than a dime and, when on a table, can spin on the button. So, at least in my head, it was turning back and forth slowly on that button.

I almost shit myself. I leaned over and turned it face down so a) I wouldn't see the light and therefore couldn't see it move and b) so it wasn't on the button and couldn't easily turn. I'm pretty sure, because I was lying on my stomach, it was my own heartbeat making ME move and not the phone. But it wasn't something I thought about until much later though.

I know it's completely irrational, but I couldn't help it. I started thinking about "the day". At 2am, when I was already on edge it made for a long sleepless night.

One of the things I thought/think about, is next weekend I hold our regular monthly match. I'm going to have to set up a stage in the bay where my friend was killed. I haven't set foot in that bay since that day. Mostly because we roped it off for the big match. And I haven't had a need to go there after.

It's just a place. There's nothing evil or mystical about it. It's just a spot on the ground. I'm going to put my big boy panties on and get it done. But a part of me will be looking over my shoulder. My rational brain doesn't believe in ghosts. But a part of me is fearing the odd noise, a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of something not quite right.

Uneventful

Nuthin. Nuthin at all. Went to a match Saturday. It was a pretty cool deal. A friend has a place out in the middle of nowhere. He is a contractor and over time, build up a huge shooting "bay" from excavation spoils basically in his back yard. He sets up a few stages, invites a handful of people. We shoot. Have some fun. Then he has us back to his house for a massive lunch.

The only downside was I had to get up at 4:45 to be able to make it by 9am. So my rapture was spent falling asleep on the couch. Zombies could've invaded. I would've slept through it.

I did absolutely nothing yesterday. Sat my ass on the couch and watched TV/surfed porn.

Mrs had a work event she had to go to. She took C with her. I have a new pet peeve. In fact, I think I shall work hard to make it my only pet peeve (we'll see how this goes). She came home in a grumpy mood. I was upstairs ordering parts to fix our washing machine (ok I did a little something... but I surfed youtube to find out how to fix it.. never cracked a tool). She always comes in the house bellowing my name. I could be napping, I could be outside, doesn't matter. She always bellows my name. So I was upstairs, she called, I answered. She called again. I answered again. She called a third time, I shouted "WHAT DAMNIT!!" Pissed, she shouted "I HAVE YOUR DAMNED DINNER!!" and started slamming doors.

I went downstairs and said "I was ordering a part to fix the washer and answered you twice". She said "I've had a bad day".

Which brings me to my pet peeve. Let's have a little perspective here. You had PROBLEMS. Not a bad day. You dealt with the problems... or maybe you didn't. But you didn't have a bad day. After finding a good friend and co-worker dead on the ground (and all the details that go with that little image), "bad day" has a whole new meaning. I think of all the times I've said I had a "bad" day and feel like an idiot for ever uttering those words. Even THAT day, wasn't "bad" because it wasn't me on the ground.

In fact, on that day, the day it happened, one of the little "dramas", I hesitate to even call it that, was trophies for the match. I had ordered 12 big plaques to hand out to the big winners on the night of the awards. I think I even posted here on the day I ordered them. PLENTY of time. We hand out 50 other plaques for handicap winners etc. etc. Those we put off until after the match because they can be a little tricky to nail down until the first shot is fired. People decide to change divisions etc. etc. Anyway, I just needed 12 big plaques immediately. The trophy guy called me at about 2pm on Thurs. The first words out of his mouth was "I'm having a bad day". Then he went on to explain his engraving machine's computer crapped out blah blah blah. I was beyond caring. I just asked him when he could have them. He told me he thought he could have them by 8am the next morning. Then he told me he was having a "bad day" again.

This was about the time perspective was hitting me. I hung up the phone and was thinking, "seriously?? bad day??". I held back dropping the hammer on him. I mean, it wasn't his fault that particular phrase was grating on my every last nerve every time he said it. He didn't know. It was unfair for me to unload all the grieving and aggression I had building up at the horror and unfairness of it all.

Ultimately he did deliver. The plaques were dropped at my house at about 9:30pm on Friday night. Late, but he got them to me. Which is why I set my delivery date a couple of days early. Just in case. It all worked out in the end. Problems? Yes. Solution? Yes. Even if he hadn't delivered, what would it have mattered? We would've apologized, written a big ass check to the winner anyway and that little piece of wood and metal is just a side note and something to go on a shelf with dozens of others. Problem. Not the end of the world.

So the moral of the story, we have problems. Sometimes a lot of them. I've had days where nothing went right. Even from where I sat, my match had tons of problems. But in the overall scheme of things, theses are all just constructs of human endeavour. At the end of the day you have to ask yourself, am I above ground? Do I have my health? Is my family above ground? Do they have their health? Everything else is just perception. Otherwise, the quickest sure fire way to grate on my nerves is to tell me you're having a bad day.

I had that little conversation with Mrs and she changed her attitude immediately.

Boy am I Embarassed

I mean, surely the world was ending. We all must be turning to zombies right?? I mean, all those juicy brains around.. Neighbors... Friends... Pets... Heh heh heh... Uh... Sorry bout the bites... Band aid?? Neosporin?? Whoo boy call me embarassed... See you at the block party?? No??

Francois sez fas, Flashe' no do

Rapture bitches!!!

I plan to spend mine hunting zombies.

Tin

Friday, the covert "operation anniversary" began. To recap the events leading up to the anniversary, Mrs and I both were trying to surprise each other and both of us were damn near screwing up the other's plans.

We have a waterfront village near here. Shrimp, fishing, and tourist boats are all crammed in a tiny little estuary. There are restaurants, bars, and one quaint little "Inn".

My original plans were to book the room at the end, feign the bastard inattentive husband who slapped something together. Get her to meet me down there for drinks. Then dinner. Then finally to the room when we were too tired/drunk to safely drive.

The limo kind of threw a bit of a wrench in it because I now needed to get transportation to the area for the next day. And well... we had a limo. I mean, you can't just have them drive you to one spot. So I DID end up scrambling at the last minute to put together something.

Friday afternoon, I ran home, packed a bag for both of us. Let me sidebar here, it is not easy packing for a woman. I mean, I opened the dresser to a staggering amount of bras and panties and blouses and... etc. I was in a hurry because I didn't want Mrs to come home and find me rifling through her stuff. Anyway, maybe I threw some matching things together. I dunno.

Later, I had my boss meet me at the hotel so I could check in and get the champagne set up and chilling. Then he dropped me at my house. I now had a problem of being home but without my car. So I ended up watching for Mrs to get home so I could run around the block. Hopefully, she would think I got home after her. She's not really one to notice little details like a missing truck. So I had a good chance of keeping it on the down low.

She got home. I ran out the back door. Carefully tip toed around the side yard. Took a walk around the block. Then "got home" about 5 minutes later. Don't know if she was fooled but so far so good.

The Mrs-In-Law showed up around 5ish. Knocked on the door. As soon as I opened the door she shouted "WHERE YO TRUCK AT??" Fuck... I gave her a look and tried to mouth "shhh". Again "WHERE YO TRUCK AT???" Backwoods piece of shit clueless redneck motherfucking.. I was so pissed off. I lost it. Under my breath I said "shut your fucking mouth" and walked away.

I'm going to rant for a second. I don't know what the hell is wrong with the Mrs-In-Law. I've bitched on this blog for years about how she and I just don't connect. I don't get her. She grew up in the backwoods. Married at 13. Divorced at 18. Met Mrs Dad while working at a strip club as a bar tender (sordid details of Mrs family.. her Dad own strip clubs and was a bookie). I guess some people just never get out of the woods. Her sense of humor is low class and flat out mean. She looked me right in the eye while I was trying to get her to "shhh" saw me "shh" and opened her mouth anyway. That's the kind of shit she does. She thinks it's funny. I actually had to dress her down back when C was 3 or so. She would joke with her "no... I'm not yo friend". I know she was joking. But C was 3. She didn't get that kind of humor. I lit into her.

Mrs has an Aunt who is border line retarded. She may even be retarded. But then again, growing up in the backwoods they never really "tested" or whatever they do to give an official diagnosis. The Mrs-in-law will be so mean to her. Aunt goes to church every Sunday. She's very religious. There's a guy who she is sweet on. We all think he's gay but that's beside the point. MIL will tease her mercilessly about him. I just don't get it.

Anyway, I took a walk to calm down. When we were loading up C's stuff into the car I explained that I was trying to surprise Mrs. She said "Well I didn't know". I said, "You know, maybe I didn't think you could keep a secret. And maybe just not say anything on a special day... "

The limo showed up. Mrs said to C "I forgot to check the mail, will you go check it". I guess the driver didn't see the house number. He drove around the block again. Poor C walked out... checked the mail... came back. "It was empty".

Mrs walked out front with this "WTF?" look on her face. A few minutes later he drove up again. Again Mrs said "Oh.. I think it just got here. C please go check the mail again".

It was a riot. C marched to the mailbox. This massive stretch limo went about 1/2 the length of the front yard. She opened the box. Nothing inside. Turned and started marching back to the house. I was thinking "boy... it's a good thing that MASSIVE LIMO wasn't sneaking up on you.." Finally, she noticed it. Again... not sure what the hell she was looking at to miss it.

We did the whole picture taking thing. The driver, bless his heart, walked up and said "I thought this was a prom date". Seriously, he was told we were going to the prom. Mrs had ordered champagne. Of course he didn't have any because he THOUGHT WE WERE GOING TO THE FUCKING PROM. Quick trip around the block with C. All the neighborhood kids were gawking.

I have to say, I was a tiny bit disappointed. The limo was kind of run down. He had some rock station on the radio. All I could hear was subwoofer. It was massive though. Couple of seats in the back. Then a big wrap around seat. TV. EMPTY bar. I just felt like we got the "PROM" limo and not the better one.

We went to a liquor store so the driver could make up for not having champagne. Of course it wasn't chilled. Didn't matter. We put some ice in plastic cups and drank it anyway.

Our first stop was to a famous mansion turned Inn. Because of her job, Mrs has connections everywhere. She talked to the bellhop to get a quick visit to the behind the scenes of the Mansion. I think the Limo helped. We went up to the cupola to see one of the best views of the city.

Next we went to a rooftop bar. The driver dropped us out front. The bar was packed. They had a band playing. We had enough time for a drink or two. Snapped a couple of pics of the town from that perspective.

We made it back to the street to find the driver waiting for us again. We had 8pm reservations in a little restaurant I found a couple of years ago while wandering the streets lost (I was trying to meet Mrs at an event and couldn't find the street she was on). This place is one of those hidden gems. 5 star. Italian. On a little tiny side street. It's a place you have to know is there.

The limo pulled us right out front on this tiny ass little street. I'm amazed at what that limo does for you. We were ushered to a table. I guess since we weren't PROM DATES(!) they went a little extra for us. Dinner was amazing. I had some of the best mussels ever and a beautiful espresso rubbed fillet.

We only had the limo until 10pm. It was pretty close to 9:45 when we left the restaurant. I told Mrs "let's go somewhere for some more drinks. We'll just order a cab". Don't know if she was buying it anymore or not. But she went along. The trip to the next "bar" took us over a bridge. On the "couch" part of the back seat it was like watching a HD view of our City from the bridge.

The driver dropped us out front of the bar. It is this cute little Cabana thing on the water front. There were probably only about 15-20 people there at that point. We ordered a quick drink. I was getting hammered at this point. Champagne, cocktails on the roof, bottle of wine at dinner, finish the champagne on the way to the "bar"... I said "Let's go find that cab".

The cabana is literally steps from the Inn. I took her to the lobby presumably to have the concierge call a cab. Then I kept going down the hall to our room. At this point, we were a little too drunk to even think about the champagne I had chilled. Which is a damned shame. I picked a really expensive bottle compared to the cheap ass bottle the driver got. Oh well.. another occasion.

Didn't matter though, clothes were flying. We achieved nakedness in record time. I'm not sure we remembered to pull the drapes or not. We had an awesome view of the waterfront. If not someone got a show.

Sadly, we had a full agenda the next day. The life of a parent never ends even for your special day. We had a rehearsal for C's violin recital first thing in the morning. Mrs and I staggered out of bed, threw on the clothes I packed (I guess they matched enough) and checked out. I spent over $250 on the room basically just to sleep... well... ultimately. It would've been nice to sit on the deck, sip mimosas.. maybe eat a little breakfast. Enjoy the pool. Maybe even visit the bar again in the afternoon. Make love a few more times. I guess some other time.

Mrs took C to her rehearsal. I did some yard work and napped. I seriously didn't know what to do without "the" match. I didn't have anything to build, or practice. I would sit on the couch and watch TV. Then jump up and pace around. Then sit back down. Pace around etc. etc.

Saturday night we had a planned outage at work. We've had several unplanned outages that were devastating to our institution over the last 18 months. This outage was to fix one of the weak links. My friend and Manager had been charge of this. The outage went off without a hitch. But I think everyone in the building gave it extra attention. He had planned every detail. I don't think anyone wanted failure to be associated with his last project. I know I spent a lot of time thinking "what would he do" when dealing with things. The outage started at 7pm saturday night. It was over at 4:30am. We all came in by 5am and brought everything back up.

Sunday afternoon C performed in her first violin recital. She has only been playing violin for 2 months. I'm perhaps a little biased, but I think she was one of the better performances. If you've never been to a violin recital, let me tell you it can be painful. Violin can be a very imprecise instrument. There are a lot of really sour notes, squeaking, getting lost etc. C hit her notes with very good intonation and rhythm.

All in all, a great anniversary weekend.

??

So blogger ate 2 days of posts... awesome. Thank you for the kind comments on the posts that disappeared. :)

The Match

The match started Friday morning. It was a "One day Format" which means each shooter shot the whole thing in a single day. However, we had 2 days of shooters. So while it was 1 day, it took 2 to get everybody through. Staff and a handful of regular competitors competed Friday (including myself).

Every morning I give a briefing to shooters welcoming them, covering whatever topics needed covering. Thanking sponsors etc. etc. I felt it was important we talk about what happened Wed night and learn from it. It was tough. I choked up almost immediately. I know most of the people competing that day. I got a lot of shouts of encouragement. It meant the world to me. Hopefully, I drove home that we are playing a game, and as such need to treat it with the respect and responsibility we claim to. Then I geared up and competed.

My day as a competitor started off pretty rocky. I just could not get my head into the first stage of the day. While walking the stage I kept forgetting targets and my plan. I shot it at a blinding speed, but sure enough, I forgot one of the targets and had a miss on another. When you add up the penalties, it was devastating. My match was basically over at that point from a competitive perspective.

But I fought through it and had an ok day. Here's a video of me shooting one of the stages. This turned out to be my best finish. 6th out of 50. You will note my bright orange shirt. One of the guys has a maroon shirt. He is a rabid college sports fan and sports his team colors. Matching shoes, socks, sweat bands, hat. He even has little stickers all over his gear. I wore the rival's colors just to tweak him a bit. All in good fun of course.



Through out the day I kept getting called away on the radio to deal with various things. It made it tough to concentrate but what're you going to do. I ended up at the range until around 7pm. The portalet guy decide to service them that evening instead of the next day (which was fine by me).




The real heavy lifting began Saturday. For those who have kept up, my biggest fear was no one would come. Last year this match had 195 competitors. This year we had 213. BIG sigh of relief. But about 2/3 of them compete on Saturday.

I immediately had drama. We had a rules issue. The group of people involved were basically wrong. It really pissed them off and they wanted to walk off. I could completely understand their frustration. I should've caught the problem on Thursday. But I was obviously not paying attention to details to the level I should. I talked them down. In the end it was mostly ok.

Then I had someone bend/break the rules on staff to help another staffer. I found out about it after the fact. The beneficiary is a total douche. That ruffled a lot of feathers. In the end, we fixed it and made it right. It made it out onto the internet. My reputation suffered accordingly. It will be entertaining the next time I see that guy. It was all drama I could've done without.

Aside from that I think it actually went ok. I don't really know because I tend to get hung up on the bad things since it's all I see.

Throughout the drama, one thing remained constant. Lori from this post was in the middle of it all. She was the one who initiated the rules issue. She was the one who bent the rules. And when she was called on it, she reacted very badly. Add that to my seriously low desire to do this again next year and a ZERO on the care meter and this will not happen at this venue next year.

Sunday we had tear down. It took me the better part of a week to set up and just a few hours to rip apart. Monday, I had to wait for all of the rentals to be picked up. I finally walked away from the match around 3pm Monday.

I'm glad I saw it through. I think it turned out ok. I finally had a good nights sleep last night.


Oh yeah [cringing]... I made up with Sandy.

Day at a time

Every day is a little bit easier. I only got choked up talking to my boss first thing this morning.

The funeral was nice. He attended a "mega" church. I've never been to one before. You had to know him, but faith was his whole being. He lived and breathed it. I couldn't see it from where I was, but I'm told his whole family was all smiles throughout the service. As if rejoicing he was with God. Whether you believe or not, that's faith. To smile at death.

Not trying to be preachy. But it did open my eyes to the possibility of absolute, non-hypocritical faith. It was nice to see and comforting.

For me personally, healing is slow but sure. I'll be happy when I see the image of his death less than 100 times a day. I know it will take time.


On a much different and hopefully more happy note. Mrs and I will have our 10th anniversary tomorrow. We had a sitcom like moment earlier. Her Mom is supposed to pick up C from school so we can celebrate.

I booked us a room down in a waterfront area. My plan was for Mrs to meet me for a Happy Hour. Then we'd have dinner. Finally, I'd surprise her with the room. Maybe have champagne waiting.

When I got home, she said "well... Mom was supposed to pick up C, but now she can't. She's coming here (our house) to get her". So I'm thinking shit, now I have to come here. Which means we won't be all relaxed. We'll have to go straight to dinner. Damnit why does her Mom do this shit. We tell her months in advance and she doesnt have the impulse control to plan accordingly. I mean 10 years only happens once. So I started fuming.

After a while Mrs said, "I have to confess... I told you that because I need you here for your present". I was thinking shit, what if SHE booked a room too?? I prepaid through expedia for mine. Damnit!

Finally she told me she got a Limo to take us around town since I've never been in one. I said "your poor Mom.. Of all the things you come up with you pick the one that is TOTALLY believable and gets her in trouble!"

She still doesn't know I have a room. But now I have to A) figure out what to do for dinner. We have the limo until 10. B) how to get a vehicle to the hotel.

Worst day of my life...

The match happened. I just sat down without any match task to do for the first time since last Sunday. These things sort of take on a life of their own. At some point you're just along for the ride.

At some point I may talk about the match in detail. But honestly, it means nothing to me.

This is getting easier to talk about. I started this last night. There were many more details. But I couldn't finish. Too many details. This is tough but here goes.

Thursday morning, I was first on the range. I found a body. It was my good friend and Manager. He went to the range to practice Wed. evening after work. I had been setting up for my match all day every day last week. That particular day was probably the first day I was able to leave at a reasonable hour, 5pm almost on the nose. He got there some time after I left.

I have been the last to hear anything. I only know what I saw. Detectives were asking me questions, but not sharing any information (and I wasnt asking at the time). Other members of LE onsite were talking to other people than me. Anyway, evidently, whether through malfunction or carelessness (though one could argue that because he died at least 1 of the 4 laws of gun safety were broken regardless), he accidentally shot himself in the chest (my words by the way. It's still under investigation). He had been there all night.

I spent all day Thursday in a daze. Once the detectives released the range, volunteers and friends waiting to help set up the match swarmed the range. A good friend plopped me in a golf cart and drove me around keeping me busy all day. I tried to leave. Wanted to leave. But as I said, these things take on a life of their own. I was the point of contact. People needed direction. Deliveries had to arrive. There was nothing I could do. She drove me round and around attending to things. When I started losing it she would pull off to the side and give me a minute.

The match was happening outside of my influence. But I had to decide what MY role would be. After I got home and had time to process. I basically came to the conclusion, I could step away from it all. But what would that leave me? I never quit anything. Not only would I have to process the events, but also deal with my guilt of abandoning a job I set out to do. So I forged ahead.

Then, would I shoot it? Again, I realized if I didnt, I would be stuck with a job I could care less about and time to think about things.

I opted to shoot it. People who were trying to sway me told me that's what he "would have wanted". I dont know. If it were reversed, I think he would've dropped everything. I don't know if I made the right choice.

Anyway, I shot it Friday. I had good and bad moments. Of course it rained off and on all day. Murphy being the bastard that he is, stopped the rain literally 5 minutes after last shot of the day. The sun popped out and it was beautiful. Saturday, the bulk of the competitors shot. my job was to run around doing whatever required doing.

The match ran long. We didn't get to leave the range until 7pm. The banquet was supposed to start at 7. We ended up there about an hour late. That was the point I finally handed the match over to someone else. I let my good friend and shooting mentor take over. For awards etc.

Sunday, we had to tear down. What took me all week to put up came down by 3pm. Today, I just had to finish up some details. They wouldn't pick up the portalet or rentals until today. I also had a ton of trash to collect and deal with.

The funeral is tomorrow. I'm not sure how thats going to go. The only person I have seen from my office since last week was my immediate supervisor at the banquet Saturday night (remember me bitching about that little fiasco??). He had to be there as a member of the club we rented. He was very close to our manager. We talked off to the side for about 30 minutes when I first got to the banquet. I was barely holding it together... Not very well at that. I knew he wanted to know things. I hadnt had time to really let the match go. So it was tough having some time just the 2 of us. He had plenty of time to grieve. Me, not so much.

I cant imagine what tomorrow will be like.

As for the match itself, there were good moments. Bad moments. You can't bring this many people together and expect it to all go perfectly. I'll get into that at some other point.

I'm going to close comments for this post. I'm ok. I just... I dont know. I just want to rest.