Fall 2026 Begins, Part II

 Fall feels like a blessing, a rebirth in many ways. I've written here before about how it always felt like each fall was a new chance, a reset, when school started. You could always reinvent who you were and say you grew and matured over the summer.

You could say that in college too, of course, but it was always a bit "you're still doing the I've grown and changed thing over the summer, bro?"

As we near October -- historically one of the unluckiest months of the year for me -- I think about Octobers past and present. I've been observing and taking in a lot over the years, and I can finally tell you that, yes, with age does come wisdom. I laugh to myself to think about how much I thought I knew as a kid, or even a decade ago, about what life would be like as an adult in my forties.

I could have looked to my parents too, I guess. I am 43. When my mother was 43, I was a junior in college. When my dad was 43, he'd just met my mother and they were trying to figure out the beginnings of their relationship while both of them were just coming out of horrible previous relationships. 

Me, at 43 in October 2026? I am a non-smoking, non-drinking, non-vaping, non-meat-eating vegetarian with six cats, a house and a wife of twelve years. I weigh 300 pounds and I have diabetes. 

Winning?

I mean, could definitely be worse, right?

People seem to think life is complicated. It is not. Life, itself, is remarkably easy. We add the complications ourselves, and choose to live with them. As I get older, I find myself less and less burdened by those self-imposed complications. For example, I have zero qualms whatsoever with packing up some shit, getting as much money as possible and fleeing the fucking country if necessary. Hell, I'll change my name too if it lets me escape my problems and start over. Thirty years ago I could just decide that I was changing my personality for the new school year -- I would now be the kid with long hair, or the kid who liked metal music, or whatever. Now, in the present, I can ctrl+alt+delete and reboot my entire life if I want to. The hard reset. And I have no compunctions about this whatsoever. I'll take the name of one of my characters from one of my short stories, and figuratively disappear. Bonus: maybe it would get me out of my student loan and credit card debt, too.

I am not actually going to do this, of course, but my point here is that I have no problem with it. And so many people I know couldn't actually fathom doing it -- they have too many friends, too many commitments, children, jobs they care about, etc. That's cute. Meanwhile:

Anyway.

Most of September has been punctuated by chores. And I don't just mean cleaning the house or doing yard work, though there's been a lot of that too -- I mean stuff that must be taken care of that we don't necessarily want to do, but have to do. For example -- this afternoon I processed the renewal of Daisy's car registration. New stickers and paperwork should get here in a few days. I should have done it weeks ago, but I forgot until this morning. 

Yesterday we figured out the new plans for my student loan repayment, since that's about to become a thing again. To pay mine back, I'll be paying about $400 a month for the next decade...but after that, the remaining balance is wiped out/forgiven. Believe me, I am not okay with this, but as that's the cheapest plan and as it's the only one that wipes the remainder of the balance after ten years, that's what I'm picking. I am also hoping that sometime within the next ten years, we get a progressive president who looks at this horseshit and says "yeah, no, we're wiping this debt off the board now" and makes it all magically go away. 

Daisy will be paying something like $250 a month on hers as well, and hers (because they were undergrad, amongst other reasons I guess) don't give her the option of the rest of the balance getting wiped after a decade; she has to pay it off in full, until we get the aforementioned progressive president mentioned above. 

I will also add that both of us are still in administrative forbearance; we don't have to pay anything yet. But, it's coming back, and soon. 

In other news, the rainy season has returned to Omaha. We have received rain every day for the past seventeen days in a row as of this writing. No, it's not been all-day, drenching rain, but some rain every day. The next two days are supposed to be relatively dry, and then for the next week the skies are supposed to open again, and weather forecasters are already predicting something like 2-3 inches of new rain by the end of this coming week.

I don't mind this, and I certainly don't mind the massive temperature shift from highs in the 80s and 90s to temperatures hovering between 55-65 24x7 now. My allergies, however, beg to differ, and the yard work/yard mowing that begs to be done but can't be, because of inches of rain leaving veritable puddles in the yard also beg to differ. 

There is always something else to do, of course. We still have mice in our garage (we have never seen them, but Daisy is pretty sure of it) that we'd like to evict sometime in the next month or two at most by cleaning out the rest of the garage. Daisy started doing some cleaning/trashing out there a few weeks ago, and we need to just go through and finish all of that together. Ideally I'd like to be completely done with the garage cleaning by Halloween.

Halloween is also Dolly's first birthday, and Empress's third birthday follows the week after. All of these cats are growing up and getting older so fast. Dolly and Mable are almost the same size now, and it's really hard to tell them apart in the dark or an otherwise dimly-lit room. I made the joke to Daisy tonight that we have boys and girls in small, medium, and large.

Small: Dolly, Gary
Medium: Hank, Mable
Large: Emmy, Charlie

Dolly is probably nine or ten pounds now, and is still the smallest. Gary was ten pounds at his last vet visit. Hank was fifteen-something pounds (I can't remember exact numbers now) and Mable was thirteen-something. Emmy and Charlie are the giant ones, with Emmy over sixteen and Charlie over eighteen.

All of this is slowly changing though. I've noticed they've been eating far less food now that we've added a different dry food into the mix -- they like it more and I guess it keeps them fuller longer. Hank used to look far fatter and feel heavier than he is now -- like he's balanced out. I think Mable is lighter now too. Gary is finally growing and looks like he's growing into the giant Maine Coon boy I expected him to be. I also expect Emmy to keep growing for another year or so -- she's a massive girl and really, really exhibits those Maine Coon genes. Charlie...well, we've not really noticed a difference with Charlie, but we hope that he evens out/balances out too, just like Hank and Mable have. It took Hank three years to get there though, so we're cautiously optimistic and biding our time.

With the coming of October, the holidays are upon us. Again.

First comes Canadian Thanksgiving (October 12, also known as Columbus Day here in the states). Then Halloween. Then American Thanksgiving, Black Friday, my birthday, Christmas and New Year's all in a row, one after another after another. Can I already say how tired I am of the holidays? It's not that I'm not in the spirit for it -- because, really, after this very long and troubling year, I desperately need something to look forward to, so I am filled with holiday cheer. But also I am already filled with fatigue and the holidays really, really pile that on worse. 

I still have not made the Christmas cards. It's not that I'm procrastinating on it because I dread doing it -- far from it -- I just need the time and energy to spend the better part of a day or night going through designs, editing designs, mocking up said designs, doing color and photo swaps, etc. One of our friends is supposed to come over on a Saturday night in a week or two; maybe I'll take the time after I come upstairs (read: letting Daisy get her "girls time" in) and work on them then. I don't know. My goal is still to get them done as soon as possible so that they can be ordered, printed up, and then crossed off my list once they get here in the mail. 

Of course, I also need to go order more stamps too. 

Fall 2026 Begins, Part I

 We had the TV installed and mounted yesterday morning. It is big. It is stupid big for our bedroom. The antenna arrives for it on Tuesday. All of the streaming services are already hooked up to it and working.

The dentist appointments were cancelled. Daisy couldn't get off work, and honestly I didn't want to go anyway. We have follow-up appointments in March, and should be fine until then. 

Gas is almost $5 a gallon here in Omaha. Diesel is almost $7. I have never seen prices like this -- not even during the recession years of 2007-09.

Truckers are allegedly planning a massive strike starting around October 1 if fuel prices don't go back down. I'm debating on whether I should order a bunch of extra meds from my prescription site before then just in case. 

Daisy is dropping weight like a stone on the Mounjaro and is no longer testing as diabetic when it comes to her blood sugars and A1C. I am the exact opposite -- I have somehow, almost inexplicably, gained 20 pounds in the past six months and my A1C has increased since my last doctor's visit in June. My diet and lifestyle have not changed -- the only thing that has really changed over the summer is that I quit vaping. 

I an really frustrated and frazzled in general. It feels like my body is in revolt. I went from being able to get good, satisfying sleep to now only being able to get 3-4 hours at a time again. I went from feeling great physically and noticing a difference in how I looked because I'd steadily been dropping weight to, all of a sudden, gaining a lot of it back and my diabetes numbers once more getting out of whack. This also does not bode well going into the holidays, where there are three big meal days in a row coming up (Canadian Thanksgiving, American Thanksgiving, and Christmas).

We're only a few weeks out from Canadian Thanksgiving, and it is wild that it's been almost a year since we were in Canada last fall and celebrated it (a day or two early, but together nonetheless) with the family up there and went to Daisy's cousin's wedding. It does not feel like it's been a year at all.

But then I remind myself that a year ago at this time, Pete still had almost three months left to live and Dolly hadn't even been born yet -- and it feels like a decade has passed. 

Three months from today is my 44th birthday. 

My cousin announced last week that his third book is coming out soon. 

I sometimes wonder if I've awakened in some sort of parody universe -- where everything is skewed and slightly or (at times) greatly different than what I believe it "should" be. Some people have some interesting coping mechanisms for what this world has become and is becoming. For example, a close friend of mine once told me that he does a watchthrough of The West Wing every 18 months or so just to be reminded what a functioning, idealistic (but also, realistic) government is supposed to look and act like, and...I can't fault him for that. When I messaged him a few years back that Daisy and I were doing the same, he lauded me for it. 

I just try to drown out the noise on everything I can. It's the equivalent of just putting my head down and waiting it out, the equivalent of zipping the sleeping bag closed over one's head to conserve as much body heat as possible throughout the dark, freezing night.

There's a lot of emotions and feelings I just can't shake these days. I wouldn't say I'm depressed (believe me, I know what that feels like) but it feels like everything is a struggle. I am motivated to do nothing, I have no ambition or drive to succeed anymore, and I just want to...keep myself busy with unimportant nonsense, I guess. 

The End of Summer, Part II: September's Additions and Subtractions

 As we close in on mid-month, it has finally started to cool down in Omaha. Yesterday's high barely hit 75, and I have my window open at 4am as the temperature outside is, purportedly, 60 degrees. Fall is definitely here. The NFL season has started, WVU has won their first two football games of the season, the Steelers play today and the Chiefs play tomorrow night. Yes, fall is here. 

To celebrate Labor Day weekend last week, Daisy and I pored over sales and ran comparisons between models, but I am happy to report that we are having a 65-inch Roku TV delivered and mounted, professionally, on our bedroom wall later this week. 

Did we need a giant (ten inches larger than our downstairs television) TV mounted on our bedroom wall? No, but we've been talking about it for years. I would've been happy with a smaller model, but Daisy wanted the big wall, movie theater experience if we were going to do it. So I said sure, fuck it, let's do it.

And then a week after we ordered it, we got text message notifications that we both had 11am dentist appointments on Friday -- the day the TV folks are supposed to come anytime between 7am and 7pm to put the TV up on the wall. 

We're debating on whether we should just cancel the appointments -- they're just teeth cleanings -- because rescheduling a delivery and install of the TVs will be hella difficult, and Daisy does not know whether she will be able to take the time off work for the appointments anyhow (the appointments were made long before she was in the position she is in now within her job). 

I, on the other hand, was going to just be here and take care of the install guys myself, handling it and making sure they were supervised and the cats were out of the way -- because, honestly, how long could it take to drill a mount into the wall and put a TV on it? Ten minutes? Fifteen? We could've done it ourselves but instead of mess with the hassle, Daisy and I both decided to not stress about it and just pay the experts to do it. 

As for the dentist, that's up in the air. We already have our next set of appointments after these ones set for March anyway. It is what it is. I told her if she can't get off work for our appointments or if it would be exceedingly difficult to do so, believe me, I have no problems canceling a teeth cleaning. It saves me from needing to leave the house on a Friday.

Because, folks, that's the type of lazy I have become in my old age. I don't have to leave the house and play a game of "who's in my mouth?" while HGTV blares above my head in the dental chair? Okay, cool.

Truth be told, there's a lot of things I need to be doing this fall, and especially this month -- for one, I have not created the Christmas cards yet. I wanted to do it tonight, but I am now too exhausted to do so and would not be able to make good judgment calls at 4am. For two, I have bills I need to assess and pay. Again, too tired tonight at this juncture to do math. And the third thing I have to do is...I have to figure out my new student loan repayment plan before the end of the month. 

That last one is a big one. 

Because they canceled the SAVE plan I was on for income-based repayment, we got notices a few months ago that after July 1, we would be told by our loan servicers that we'd have a 60-day window to login and select a new repayment plan for our loans. I'm sure if you have student loans, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Well, I was on an income-based repayment plan and I was paying something like $200 a month for my loans -- which I was fine with, I guess. It was an added expense every month, but it was what it was.

And then Covid hit, and everyone's payments were put on hiatus and/or were thrown into forbearance. And...it didn't end. I think I made one payment after Covid hit, and it was done the week before everything had been put on hold. Well, once I select my new payment plan, that hold finally comes off  and for the first time in well over five years, I will be paying on student loans again. Except, well, that income-based repayment plan likely isn't going to work for me anymore as I now make a lot more money than I did when I last tried to recertify that plan.

"Your bare minimum is going to be something like $300-400 a month," Daisy told me last weekend, after doing some rough calculations. 

"My goal," I said, "is to pay the bare minimum possible every month until the remainder is discharged."

There's something like a 15-year stipulation for student loans for undergrads and, I think, 20 years for grad students, where anything past that point just gets waived/discharged. Covid helped that for us big time, as did the court battle for the SAVE plan putting us back on hiatus. 2033 would be 20 years for me. So that's what, six years and change? Psh, if I have to, I should be able to handle that. And, likely, it won't even be that long as we should elect a Democrat president in 2028 who will likely wipe out the vast majority of student loan debt anyhow. I'll roll the dice on that, sure.

I will note here that I took those loans out in the long-long-ago, the earth-that-was, in 2010 -- and I took them out because I needed to eat and put gas in the Monte Carlo while I was in grad school. I needed to keep the lights on, I needed to keep food in the fridge and in the bowls of the cats. It wasn't like OMG, I can get free money from the government? Okay! It was a necessity for survival. And I knew even then I did not and would not want to pay them back when they came due. I was right there. 

Shit, I'm 43 now. Back then, I didn't expect to live past 40 in any real reasonable fashion, ever. I would either drink and smoke myself to death, I'd die in a fiery car crash, or if neither of those things happened, I would likely -- at some point, anyway -- off myself. None of those scenarios entailed doing it after age 40. I was, after all, desperately alone and lonely and didn't see much of a future for myself outside of being poor and teaching class after class every semester until it was time to die. 

You know, figuratively, anyway.

Fast forward to today and life is very different, but still. 

The End of Summer, Part I

 Well, here we are. Another year, another summer gone.

Summer 2026 seems like it disappeared -- evaporated before our eyes and vanished into nothingness as we held it in our arms. I told Daisy this past weekend that it feels like we just got back from Canada two weeks ago, not two months ago. 

It is now Labor Day weekend. Well, for me anyway. For me it's been Labor Day weekend for two days already. I took off Wednesday the 2nd, and as I am already out until Tuesday the 8th, I have a rather uncommon stretch of six days in a row off work, unfettered, for downtime and relaxation. 

I am, quietly and slowly/peacefully, trying to reset myself for fall. With fall comes cooler temperatures and work tends to slow down a bit (it has not yet, but it tends to). Football, both NFL and college, comes back this week. Schools are already back in session, of course, and school buses are continually rolling through the neighborhoods of Omaha once more. Pumpkin spice lattes have become a thing again, and I'm already starting the season right -- despite the fact that it was almost 100 degrees every day this week, I have already enjoyed a few pumpkin spice lattes, both made at home as well as purchased. That's right, I'm a basic bitch.

Anyway. 

Fall this year somehow feels different as well -- I haven't made the Christmas cards yet. I don't even have good photos for the cards yet this year. This time last year I was worried about how long Pete was going to last and prepping for our trip to Canada -- this year we've already been to Canada and back again, Pete is dead, and we have a Dolly now. 

Speaking of Dollys, I should probably mention how the passing of three greats this past week or so have really felt like a gut punch. I'm sure if you've not been living under a rock, you are aware that Dolly Parton died. Some of you who paid a little more close attention also would have heard that Tim Curry and Peter Cullen both died as well.

Look, I realize I am old now. I also realize that I am far past the age of where any celebrity, big or small, should have a profound affect on me if and when they eventually die. I can likely count on one hand the number of celebrities out there who I could name who I would be affected more by, and whose work really shaped a large part of my life more than Tim Curry and Peter Cullen. 

I am sure there are people reading this website who don't really know who I am, or are reading it for the first time. Certainly some of my readers here have never met me in real life, or if they have, they have not seen me in over two decades -- I understand that and it's okay. But, for those of you who know me well, who have known me well for most if not all of my life, you realize that The Rocky Horror Picture Show affected me in profound ways. Not sexually, of course, but creatively, musically, even spiritually to an extent. Was it a bad movie? Oh hell yes. Is it still my favorite movie of all time, and is Tim Curry a giant part of that? Also yes. I realize his health had been failing in the past decade or so, and yes, he was an old man, but losing him is a tremendous loss to fans of not just musical theater, but of the man himself. 

Similarly, Peter Cullen voiced my childhood. Since I don't expect most normal people to know who he was, here:

And a Canadian, too. 

Every time I heard Optimus Prime as a child well into my adulthood, it was Peter Cullen (with the exceptions of a few roles in offshoot series, where Garry Chalk voiced one or more characters of other/some variations of Optimus). I am and always have been a huge fan of anything Transformers. I own the entire original series and the movie as well as all of Generation 2 and the sequel series Beast Wars and Beast Machines. I went to see the first...several? Michael Bay movies in the theater based on the fact that Cullen had returned to the role of Optimus Prime for those films. The man was loved in my heart and mind. 

Everyone dies eventually, of course. I am likely going to see a lot of my heroes die of old age at some point before I kick off this mortal coil as well. One of my former friends told me that when Bob Dylan dies, she's going to wear black for a month, and...I get that. I echo that sentiment. I can't think of a major musical icon dying suddenly that really affected me and my own generation -- I guess Kurt was likely the last one, and even that was more Gen X than it was me as an elder millennial. Maybe Amy Winehouse? Still not the same level as Kurt though. I'm talking someone who my generation would be very, very upset over because they're a universally beloved household name. I don't know if anyone exists like that for my generation, someone that everyone knows.

But everyone knew Dolly Parton.

Young and old, everyone knew Dolly by music, looks, acting, or association. At the very least I don't think there's anyone on the planet in English-speaking countries who did not know who Dolly Parton was or who hadn't heard of her by name. And for those folks paying attention? She was universally beloved. It's not really hyperbole when I say that, either. You'd be hard pressed to find anyone who would have said something like "to hell with Dolly Parton, she's an awful human being" because nobody I've ever seen or known has ever disliked her.

Dolly was not of my generation; she was of my parents and grandparents' generation -- but we all knew her. We all adored her. We all knew more about her than most people would care to admit. And she was such a remarkable person, a true example of a great role model to follow. I am not going to go into details here because all of you can feel free to research her on your own, and many of you already know -- but I am going to tell two stories about Dolly, one short and one long. 

The short one is, because of the association of "Dolly" to "Dolly Parton," I always wondered how many people immediately assumed that Daisy had named our cat Dolly after her. Of all the names ending in -olly, she chose Dolly -- over Holly, Polly, and/or Molly. That will, always, boggle my mind to an extent. And to be fair, Daisy did question the cat's name a number of times, not knowing that it really fit her. Well, now ten months into having that cat, the name fits her very well. She is a very vocal, outspoken girl with big words and a big voice, but she still has a little frame and a little face. She is our Dollbaby, our Dollface. 

The second story is the longer story. As you folks may know, Daisy's grandfather built guitars. I don't think he ever really did it for a living, but more of a hobby. It seemed to be much more of a labor of love than anything else, but it seemed like his output increased as he got older. He would sell them for extra money, sometimes large sums of money -- so okay, maybe it was what he did for a living after a while. He didn't just build guitars, either -- he built banjos and dobros, he made his own guitar straps in his same workshop on the same workbench (and apparently also did other leatherwork as well, such as belts). 

I don't know how many guitars he cranked out every year, or over his lifetime. It was a lot of work. They are some of the finest, most beautiful guitars I have ever seen. He made them in all sizes, and when we visited up there for the first time in 2015, I actually got to see some of them in-progress -- as well as got to briefly "jam" with him and Daisy's uncle (his son) in the basement where we spent most of our time a few months ago when we were there.

When he died, in 2022, the remaining completed guitars (all but two or three of them) were distributed throughout the family. Daisy got one, Daisy's sister and our nephew got one, etc. I am sure Mama has at least one, if not more than one, of his guitars too. The rest went to his sons, all that I know of but two -- they adorn the wall of the basement living room; one is a normal acoustic and the other is a shiny, silver dobro.

It turns out that his dobros got the attention, eventually, of someone quite famous.

That someone was Dolly Parton. 

On the wall downstairs in that basement is a letter Daisy's grandfather received from Dolly Parton. It addressed him by name and said (and I am paraphrasing here) that he made the best dobros she'd ever seen, and invited him to join her to play one at the Dixie Stampede, where (at the time) she performed every night. 

Now, this letter did not have a date on it. I don't know how authentic it is, only that the family claims it's absolutely authentic. I don't know when Dolly stopped performing nightly at the Dixie Stampede. But it is a remarkable artifact and conversation piece. I have a high-definition photo of the letter, which I will obviously not share here as it has family information/names on it. The letter, to this day, hangs on Grandpa's computer desk downstairs in the basement. He did not frame it -- he was not really a framing man, from what I gathered -- but it hangs there in bare paper as if it were a shopping list, on a desk in a basement where everything sits as if frozen in time since the day the man died in 2022. 

So there's the stories. Now, onward...