This week has started off with a bang. Flying out of the gates, issues popped up here and there. One of those times where I am incredibly thankful for all the things I am able to understand and accomplish. Up to my neck with things going wrong, and everyone’s problem is more important than everyone else. At that point, I almost wish that I was purely stupid. I wish I didn’t know a thing. But, you put out the fires as quick as you can with the only two arms that you were born with. I go back into my office at the end of the day, fall into the chair, think for a second, and quickly pack up for home.
My grandpa Louie would have been eighty-five years old today. He left us almost two years ago. He was an incredible human being all the way. Just thinking about him makes me smile. There are so many stories that seem to just fly out when family gets together. So many of them that just make you laugh until your belly hurts.
When I was in high school, he would give me all sorts of trouble when I would be heading out with my friends. In turn, they would be getting ready for bed. “You going honky-tonking?!?!” A term that still creeps up with my family. An inside joke, if you will. However, I understand that grandpa did his fair share of honky-tonking back in the day. He and my grandmother would go down to where the big bands played and dance during the true days of swing.
Grandpa’s chair… It’s still there. It was his chair. When we would visit, you could always sit in that chair. When grandpa came into the room, you got out and let him have it. He would sit their and watch the Kansas City Royals. Novellas. The news. He would also take his famed naps. Grandma always hated for him to fall asleep in that chair because then he wouldn’t sleep at night, in turn not letting her sleep through the night. She’d yell at him from the kitchen, “Louie! Wake up!,” followed by a string of words spoken in spanish, english, or both. I would even take my responsibility to sneak up on him and help grandma out. Never really mattered. Once no one was in the room with him, he’d nod off again. To this day, that’s still his chair.
My grandfather is an inspiration to me. His passing was tough. It still is. That goes for all of us in the family. Perhaps it’s just something about families with hispanic blood, I don’t know. I say that because when he died, I’ll never forget the night of his wake. Pizza, beer, and laughter in the dining room of his house. It was very hard to tell that he was gone forever. It was a celebration of his life, and he deserved that. He was a great man, but those words are not good enough to sum up grandpa Louie. I hope to live up to who he was, but I don’t think that I can ever surpass that. He lived life in a totally different league, during a completely different space and time.
I miss him. I always do my best to take time and remember.
Every morning that I go running, I pass by a black pickup truck that is always parked in my neighborhood. I guess I should also mention that two blocks down from my apartment is the local homeless shelter. As you can probably guess, there’s a correlation between the shelter and the truck. The back of the pickup is filled, or more so piled, with various items that, most likely, filled some sort of home a time ago. The passenger side is often crammed with things, nearly to the roof. I would tend to believe that this is one man’s home, as I often see him on one of my various morning routes, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. 
It’s been a slow start to this week. Things haven’t been too busy at the station, but the pace is quickly kicking in. With everything that went on last week, it has been kind of nice. It leaves me some time to get the batteries recharge within my head. Also leaves me a little bored and tired. 
When I was in school, I used to look forward to the day where I would have more time to myself. Those days when I would have a job and have free time outside of work to do the things that I enjoyed. Reading a book, watching movies, or what have you. These days, I look forward to the point in the day that I just get to be at home. After that, sleep. Free time is rare. I don’t think I was ever this busy during my entire time in school. Odd thing is, I’m not tired. When I hit the bed, sleep comes very quickly. On top of that, motivation in the morning is never lacking. 
I like what I do, so sue me. At the same time, I am pretty tired these days. What I feared happening while Jim was in Vegas did happen. My teeth have been cut on the wonderful world of AM transmitters. It’s the best type of education that I could ever have. Lessons have always been difficult for me to grasp via textbooks and exams. It would be great to earn college degrees through proving your self worth through other means rather than grade point averages and credit hours. At the same time, I count my blessings for the chance at doing what I am. It beats the parking booths for sure.
I’m fending off the notion that I might have developed a spring time allergy. Perhaps it’s just this cold hanging on from the Kansas trip, but I could be wrong. As it runs in the family, this very well could turn into something that will suck for the rest of my life.
I don’t get headaches very often. When I do, they really, really suck. Naturally, alcohol is the most common explanation for them, but that is something that doesn’t cross my lips very much these days. The pounding that took place in my head today was far from enjoyable. It very well could be stress.