Sunday, September 12, 2010

Part 39: Clash of the Olympians!

Contributor:
M.C. RibEye – University of Minnesota student, Master of Soups and Stocks, lives in Minneapolis.

12 September 2010, 7:30 p.m.

Over 23 Hours of Epic Action!



“Have you ever had a tough time deciding what movie or TV show to watch on any given evening?” asked my cousin Eddie. “Let me premise this by saying that you know that you’re in for the night, and nothing sounds better than sitting back, feet up, popcorn bowl in hand, brain turned off and ready to be entertained…and yet nothing in your film library strikes you as either good or interesting, or the least bit intriguing in any way.”

“I hate that,” replied my brother, Killdozer.

I followed his sentiment by saying, “That happens all the time to us. I’m stuck at the DVD store with a few friends and no one can agree on what to watch, so we waste hours browsing… It’s maddening.”

My brother and I were out with our cousin, Edmund Callipeaux, for lunch at a University of Minnesota campus hamburger joint. Classes began this week, and as I am now a freshman attending the College of Liberal Arts, I have been invited to partake in a tradition that Eddie and my brother began 3 years ago when he started school here. A tradition that involves bi-monthly mid-afternoon lunches at Manning’s restaurant. (And they not only go to this same diner every 2 weeks, but they also order the same thing to eat every time.)

So, since this was the first week of classes, we were out to lunch with Eddie. However, to clarify the semantics of the phrase, Eddie claims that he is always a bit out to lunch, so whenever he is actually having lunch out (or away from his home) he says that it has the effect of a double negative in mathematics - - being out to lunch while out at lunch cancels out the confusion he normally experiences, and during these times Eddie can become quite lucid and clear-minded.

Hence, I will now recount to you the mainly accurate, yet slightly exaggerated story he told us while he experienced an elevation in his brain synapses brought on by our luncheon. The setting for my tale is the darkened interior of Manning’s bar and restaurant, a neighborhood joint that has occupied the corner of Como and 22nd in Southeast Minneapolis for years and years.

As we took our places on cushiony-backed bar stools at a high top table, my brother, Killdozer said, “The other day, I was in Target and I almost bought this Ancient Greek gods movie collection.”

“What was it? Did it have pirates?” asked Eddie.

“I don’t know. I think it was a bunch of movies about various mythological stories, Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves…and stuff like that. I think that the movie, Hercules Against the Moon Men was in the collection. The box listed a bunch of titles; it looked cool,” continued Killdozer.

“You didn’t pick it up?” I replied.

“No,” Killdozer confirmed.

“Hmmm…. That sounds like it might have been a mistake,” said Eddie.


I then weighed in on the subject, “Maybe we should drive over to Target after lunch and see if we can still get a copy?”

“That’s a good idea. But unfortunately, I have to get home right after lunch. I’m going to need to take a nap, and then I have to start getting ready for dinner tonight,” said Eddie as he took a sip of ice water.

Killdozer asked, “What’s for supper tonight at the Callipeaux homestead?”

Eddie then said, “That’s the reason I was asking you guys about the whole movie phenomenon. I’m curious about it because that inability to make a decision not only happens to me with movies, but it happens to me on a regular basis when I walk into a grocery store!”

“Interesting,” I said.

“Just like with the movies, I look at all my food options and nothing hits me as viable. Heck, over the years, we’ve assembled a veritable video store-sized collection of movies at our house, and many times I’ll be standing there and nothing looks good. I’m not interested in this or that movie. Comedy, drama, romance, etc., etc…. Nothing looks good!” Edmund continued.

“Dramatic-romance-comedies?” chirped my brother.

“Is that a classification?” asked Eddie.

“It sounds like Clash of the Olympians might fit into that category,” I replied.

“Well anyway,” continued Eddie. “I often walk into the grocery store and I do the same thing. I try to gauge my mood so that I can land on a meal option. For instance, do I want action and adventure? Or maybe mystery? Or romance? Horror?”

“What would horror be as a meal?” I asked.

“You don’t want to know,” replied Eddie. “Let’s just say that I wasn’t allowed into the kitchen for a while after attempting a puree of various melted cheeses, cooked ground beef, and steamed vegetables. I blended them in a blender to what I thought would become gastronomic perfection, but instead, I ended up with something that matched the viscosity and texture of cake frosting.”

“Ouch,” I said as I perused the menu wondering what it would be like if restaurants had categories like Documentary, or Sci-Fi, or Thrillers!

The waitress came over to our table and Eddie and my brother both ordered the same boring, Classic bacon cheeseburgers with fried onions that they’ve been happily stuffing into their faces for the past 3 years, while I decided to go Independent and order a buffalo-chicken sandwich!

After the waitress left our table, Eddie returned to his grocery store story….

“So I walked into the grocery store by my house earlier today, and for the life of me, I could not decide what I wanted to cook for dinner tonight! It was very frustrating. First I thought pasta, then rice, then I started to wonder what sort of meat options I had, then I thought perhaps no meat would be the solution. I usually try to start with the basics and build up from there. What will the protein be? Chicken? Fish? Ham? (All three together? Mixed in a blender?) After that, what are the other components? Vegetables? If so, what kind? Onions? Carrots? Yams? Are they canned or fresh bought? The choices are endless, and madness lurks at the end of every isle and inside every cooler door, because everywhere you go in these grocery stores there’s just more and more stuff to choose from!”

“You’ve had quite a day so far, Eddie. Haven't you?” said my brother, Killdozer.

“It’s tough being me sometimes. There is a lot of stress and anxiety…. That’s why I’ve had to schedule a nap for later this afternoon!” replied Edmund while he took a sip from his glass of Coke-a-Cola.

“So what did you decide? What’s for dinner tonight, Eddie?” I asked as our various lunch orders were being placed on the table.

“Well, that’s the beauty of my story. It’s what I learned today…and it’s why I’m sharing this with you now…. I decided not to decide…. I decided to roll the dice!” said Eddie as he picked up the same bacon cheeseburger with fried onions that he’s been ordering for the past 3 years.

“You hit the frozen food isle for TV Dinners?” asked Killdozer.

“I’ll bet you did the old stand-by: frozen pizza. I hear frozen pizzas are in season this time of year,” I conjectured.

“Nope to both of you,” Eddie replied as he dipped his cheeseburger into a pool of catsup that occupied about a quarter of his plate.

As an aside: Can I ask you something? Are there 2 kinds of people… those who squirt the catsup on their burgers and those who dip? And what is this catsup or ketchup stuff anyway. They say that there are tomatoes in there, but deep down I know that I don’t want to know how it’s really made. It’s like the sausage of condiments…. I use the stuff but I don’t want to know where it’s been. How can it sit on this table at room temperature all day? How can it be safe to consume if everyone that sits here has handled it? Eddie has a brother-in-law who visited a ketchup factory in the mid-90s and hasn’t eaten the stuff since. That should mean something to me.

“Pass that thing over here,” asked my brother as he motioned toward the upside-down red squeeze bottle in my hand. “So what did you do, Eddie. As with all of your stories…I can hardly stand the suspense.”

“Well,” replied Eddie. “I was standing in the isle directly after the cheese counter, and I looked down to the end and I saw this elderly lady who looked all nice and grandmotherly-like. She stood by a shopping cart and her purse was resting in the cart where little kids usually sit. By the way, have you ever worried about those carts with the spot to sit a kid? I’m putting my food into a cart where a toddler (or 10,000 toddlers) has/have sat.”

“Yes,” I replied. “Don’t get off subject.”

“Right,” said Eddie as he motioned his hands just above the surface of the table like an umpire calling a runner safe at first base.

“Right. I’m looking at this lady and I’m thinking to myself, ‘She looks like she knows how to cook!’ I mean who knows, really? But I’m telling you, something inside me said, you can learn something from her.

“What do you mean?” I said while I started in on the second half of my adventurous buffalo chicken sandwich. (And it was tasty!)

My brother thanked our waitress and confirmed that everything at our table was fine as Edmund said, “You guys are going to love this! It’s the perfect crime - - of plagiarism! Meal Plagiarism. Is that a crime? I don’t know…. What I’m telling you is that I decided not to decide what I was going to cook for dinner, and instead, I followed this nice lady around the whole grocery store and bought one of everything she bought! By the end, we had the exact same things in our carts! Dinner is on and I didn’t have to make any tough decisions!”

Killdozer and I looked at each other for a bit (a second or two) and then my brother asked, “What?”

“What did you, or, I mean she get…or rather, what did the two of you buy?” I asked as I thought to myself, ‘This is going to be an interesting 4 years at the University of Minnesota if these lunches proceed as scheduled.’

“Well…. I didn’t know at first how things were going to work out. She was over by all these cans of things and I pretended to look at some olives or something, and before she meandered away, she had placed a small yellow can and a lager blue can into her cart. After that, I casually strolled over to the place where she had stood and grabbed the next cans off the shelf. One was a can of black beans, and the other was filled with chopped green chilies. In my wildest dreams, I had no idea where this was going to lead. Black beans and green chilies…. What do you do with those?”



“Intriguing,” replied my brother. “Didn’t she notice that you were following her?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I tried to be cool and act like I was just wandering from place to place. But let me ask you this, have you ever inadvertently followed a person through a whole grocery store? You notice them here at this spot, and then again over there, and then again at the cheese counter…. You’re both going through the store at the same pace and following a similar path. It’s a coincidence. But it makes sense, the stores are laid out to take you from one end to the other and finally out through the check out area.

“I remember this one time a while back when some guy and myself were going in opposite directions through the isles of a grocery store in Rochester, Minnesota. We passed each other in the middle of the first isle (him going east and me going west). And then we meet again going the opposite directions at the center of the canned food isle next door. It was like we were making figure eights as we moved from one end of the shop to the other. (Or maybe it was more like we were making a double-helix shape?) After 7 or 8 isles, as we passed each other for the last time midway down the soda pop isle at the far end of the store, and the guy says to me, ‘We must be after the same stuff.’ To which I replied, ‘Yeah, I guess so. But you went the wrong way and I went the right way.’

“I don’t think that the nice lady noticed that I was following her all. She probably thought it was a coincidence or something. Who knows? She may have just thought that some kind young man was also looking for the same buy one, get one free packages of boneless, skinless chicken breasts. Which by the way, was awesome. That’s when I knew that I was definitely onto something…. Not only did I not have to decide what to buy, but I was also saving MONEY! Who doesn’t love that?”


I then said, “Kind young man…? Dude, didn’t you just turn 40 last year? Peace and love and everything, but I think that we need to dispense with the quote/unquote young moniker.”

Robust. How about using that as your new descriptive adjective? It’s a relatively vague and yet, complimentary-sounding term,” my brother said this while patting Eddie assuredly on the back.

“I could live with robust, or fresh. Do kids still say fresh these days?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t think so,” I replied.

“I ask about the word fresh,” Eddie continued to say, “Because the shopping lady picked out some of the nicest tomatoes and avocadoes that you could imagine. Definitely a good time of the year for those things here in Minnesota. And a nice onion too. And as I proceeded to do the same, I was really scratching my head and getting pretty confused. What does all this stuff add up to? Chicken, beans, chilies, onions, tomatoes, avocadoes?”



“Maybe she was fixing to grill up some kebabs?” proffered my brother.


“You guys are going to love this…. We rolled our carts into the cooler area with all the cheese and milk and stuff like that. After browsing a bit, she reaches out and picks up a block of cheddar cheese....


"This worried me because I was getting so confused that I was starting to wonder if my little experiment had backfired on me. Then she picks out a jar of spicy salsa and that’s when I almost turned around to go back to the front of the store and start completely over.


Salsa?

What on Earth was she buying all this stuff for? But then she picked up a package of 8 large flour tortillas, and after a few minutes, I totally figured it out.


“Looking down into my cart at all the items, I told myself that it was just like playing the game Scrabble. Each food item is like a little wooden letter from the alphabet, and I just needed to rearrange them on the game board to spell out the perfect word,” Eddie said this as he looked cautiously around the restaurant to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

He then proceeded to describe how he used his artistic and creative brain, “to imagine all the ingredients in every possible combination, and when I eventually used my mind’s eye to see all the vegetables as well as the chicken inside the large flour tortilla, I knew that the Triple-Word-Score was BURRITOS - - 100 points at least and an extra 50 for using all my letters!"

“Dude. Burritos. They are awesome! Some of my favorite foods are packed in burrito-form. You’re a lucky man, Eddie Callipeaux,” my brother replied.

Edmund continued, “I was so excited; I had no idea how the mystery would be solved! And the tension was really starting to rack my nerves. Talk about an explosive ending to an action-packed rollercoaster ride through the grocery store! Unbelievable; it was the burritos all the while! Hitchcock himself could not have delivered a more suspenseful and thrilling ending!”


“No cilantro or garlic?” asked my brother.

“And no lettuce?” I added.

“She must have had those at home, or maybe she forgot them along the way,” replied Eddie.

“Maybe she didn’t have a C, a G, or an L tile on her Scrabble board?” I jokingly said.

“I guess I’ll be having my burritos without cilantro, garlic, or lettuce (which is too bad) however it’s worth it too have been given this meal for free,” Eddie said.

“You didn’t have to pay?” I asked thinking that somehow Eddie had convinced the mystery lady to pay for his grocery cart too.

“No…. I mean, yes,” Eddie confirmed. “I did have to pay. Actually we got into line at roughly same time - - next to each other, at neighboring checkout counters. While milling through the various magazines, we both advanced through our short queues at a similar pace. And while my items were being beeped across that laser thing, I heard the same beep beep beep behind me, and when my teller said 29 – 74, I heard the same monetary request repeated behind me, almost as an echo in stereo sound. It was uncanny. If the store manager is paying close attention to the numbers tonight while he or she balances the books, they’ll probably catch the next flight to Vegas after considering the odds of 2 people having the same bill in their store, at precisely the same time!”

Our waitress brought over our bill and as Eddie pulled out his wallet, he said, “If you didn’t know what had really happened, it might really freak you out.”

"No doubt about that," I confirmed.

“Well, as usual, this lunch was great. You’ll have to let us know how dinner turns out tonight,” Killdozer replied as he pushed back his chair from the table.

While the three of us walked away from the table, and Eddie was waving good-bye to our waitress, I started to wonder about the odds of Eddie making something good out his burrito ingredients. Approaching the door to the outside world, I said, “You know, Eddie, that nice lady in the grocery store has done all the heavy mental work for you up until now. Your menu is set because of her. And as I think about it, you ordered the same bacon cheeseburger with fried onions that you’ve eaten here twice a month for the past 3 years, thereby sidestepping once again any actual decision-making on your part. But after your nap this afternoon, you’ll be on your own in that kitchen….”

Eddie then replied, “…. I know what you’re saying, you can only lead a horse to water. I have all the ingredients, but do I have the wherewithal to pull it all together and make something fantastic? Do I possess the culinary skills to tantalize the taste buds of Zeus, as well as all your other Olympians, and beckon them down from their immortal coil to feast BURRITO-Style?

“I do not know the answer to that question right now, but I will have a response for you later tonight! That much I can promise!” exclaimed Edmund.

“Aim for a Zeus from one of those cheesy, low-budget adventure movies and I think you’ll do just fine,” I said as we crossed the threshold of the dimly lit restaurant and walked out into the blinding sunlight of the south-facing parking lot. – MCR

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Part 38: I Like Cars

Contributor:
Count Manchego – 4 years old, Star Pupil of the Day at La Crèche KinderCollege, Oct. 2nd, 3rd, and Nov. 25th, Edmund’s nephew, lives in Canberra, Australia.
________________

Count Manchego, 24 July 2010 – Naptime

I like cars.

I especially like blue cars and green cars.

And I like to get cars as presents.

And I don't like Edmund Callipeaux.


Perhaps I need to elaborate. I’ll back up a bit….

As I have established, I like cars.

And by cars, I mean Hot Wheels! Matchbox are okay toy cars too. But the best are Hot Wheels and my favorites are blue or green (although any color will do…they’re all pretty good).

Speaking of cars, my aunt LeTigre and her husband, Uncle Ed came to visit us and they had cars.


I should add here that I usually economize the pronunciation and spelling of words to save time. Such as shortening my auntie LeTigre’s name to just T’gre (Tee – Gra). This saves me a lot of time in both typing and talking. I actually do this with all sorts of words. Say for instance if her name were, Erica. I would call her, Er’ka (Air – Ka). I’m only four years old and I’m up on that whole text messaging, instant messaging thing. I don't have time for any words over 2 syllables long.

That’s how we 4-year-olds roll.

We’re fast-rollers.

We’re busy.

And we like cars.


I’ve included a few photos that I shot while T’gre and Ed visited me in Australia. (I don’t need to abbreviate his name – it’s already short – or maybe I could call him Uncle E – or better, Ünk’E.)


These photos that I took are of some my favorite memories from their vacation.







Those were photos of us having dinner at a fancy restaurant, but my little finger somehow got in the way.


On the first day of their visit, T’gre gave me 2 cars, and I thought that was sweet.

And on the second day of their visit, T’gre gave me 3 cars, and I thought that that was also sweet!

I then worked it out in my head:

2 cars the 1st day and 3 the 2nd – that’s 2.5 cars per day….

“They’ll be here another 7 days…. that’s an additional 17.5 cars!”

Sweet!

Factor in T’gre and Ünk’E’s tendencies toward impulsive shopping and I could be looking at 20+ cars by the end of the week.

This was to be a sweet week!


We did all sorts of great things while T’gre and Ünk’E were in town. Stuff like watching the television show, Bob a Builder.


I understand that the show’s real name is, Bob the Builder. However, I have learned that there are many, many other construction workers, or “builders” out there working and building things in this great big world. So, I have decided to refer to Bob with the more egalitarian term “a”, rather than granting him divine or god-like status as denoted through, “the Builder.”

I digress…


We went to the beach and walked on a path.


We drove around.



Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s probably too much to say that I don’t like my Ünk’E.

Please forgive me for making that statement.

We 4-year-olds tend to see things in extreme terms (e.g. good or bad, yummy or gross, poopy or not poopy). We have a tough time with the concept of a grey area, or qualifiers that fall between great and terrible. Ünk’E isn’t terrible, it’s just that he’s not as great as my Auntie T’gre. I guess that doesn't place him into the “bad” category by default, but as a 4-year-old, I sometimes have a tough time with these complex social equations.

In my mind, if you like peanut butter, you like peanut butter. If you don’t, you don’t.

There is no inbetween.

Or, I could ask your opinion about cheesy-vegemite sandwiches.

What do you think of that stuff?

Yummy or gross?

I think that stuff is great. Check me off in the yummy category!


But grown-ups can be confusing on these issues.

Take, for instance, the word, Fart.

Hilarious!

It’s an hilarious word. No one can deny it. The word fart, alongside its compatriots, poop, butt, and booger form a Pantheon of the funniest words ever invented in the English Language. And yet, when I use one or more of them in the same sentence, I get into trouble!

That does not make sense.

Case in point....

Ünk’E told us this really funny story where he used the word fart at least 20 times. I was laughing so hard by the end that I could hardly stand it anymore!

Hilarious, right?

Yes.

And yet, later when I began to chant that same word, over and over, I got into trouble!

Can you imagine that?!!

The whole thing is very confusing. I’ve studied adults for more than 4 years now, and I can tell you with a great amount of certainty that they value humor. In fact, they devote a lot of time and energy to humor: They commit to memory humorous situations, stories, and anecdotes. They laugh and they enjoy laughter. They joke. They do and say amusing and comedic things for the joyful benefit of themselves and their friends, families, and sometimes even strangers. There’s even a comedy section at the DVD store. And yet if I say the word fart outside the context of having myself just farted, such as, “Excuse me, I just farted…”

Then I’m in trouble!

And that’s not fair because saying it like that isn’t even that funny!

According to old people, being funny is good, and yet somehow I am restricted from this behavior. It doesn't make sense. But then again, as I get older, I am discovering that this world makes less and less sense. Things used to be so simple. Perhaps I myself will grow up and become so confusing that one day a 4-year-old will not fully comprehend my reasoning?

Probably not though.

Very doubtful.



These are a few photos of us driving around in a real car.




And so after T’gre and Ünk’E left Australia to return to their home in the USA, I compiled these photographs to share with you. Auntie T’gre really understands me and we spent hours playing with cars and also trains while they were here. (Did I mention that I’m also a big fan of the Thomas the Tank Engine television show - - as well as the corresponding series of toy trains?)

Ünk’E gave me a light-brown Carhartt sweater with a hood. If I had a better understanding of sarcasm, I would have done that thing where I hold my hand up to my mouth and fake doing a yawn as I told him how much I liked his present.

But I knew that I couldn’t pull that off.

That’s why T’gre is my favorite between her and Ünk’E. She understands me. It’s easy: I like cars (or Thomas trains) and she likes cars too (and Thomas trains too). Ünk’E likes boring old Carhartt sweater’s that are pretty good, but not as good as cars.

Hey!

Wait a minute, maybe I just cracked the code to that whole good vs. bad thing?

Carhartt sweaters are good, but cars are better! They’re both good, but one is definitely much, much better. (Wow, this is complicated!) So, by that twisted reasoning, Ünk’E may not be as great as T’gre, but he is still okay in some respects. (Wow! This is really complicated!)

Ünk’E may not be a big dumb-dumb?

I don’t know; all this is too much for me to process.

I did begin this essay by stating that I preferred blue- or green-colored cars…while at the same time stating that cars of any color are good. That logically leads to questions…. How can two things both be good and yet one is better than the other? It’s like places: Minneapolis is a place, St. Paul is a place, and Minnesota is a place too. And yet 2 of those places are in the other place! How the heck does that work? I was in all 3 of these places about 2 years ago and I remember spending most of my time trying to figure out where the heck I was!

This stuff is so confusing!

Well, despite all this very complicated craziness, I do have my cars, Ünk’E is maybe an okay guy, T’gre is definitely an awesome auntie, and at the end of the day, I have my cars and I have my skills as a photographer!





Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Part 37: The Pane of Stalemate

Contributor:
Leadership 5 – woodworker, camping enthusiast, day trader, lives in Missoula, MT.

12 January 2010, 12 Noon

“Draw!” yelled Edmund Callipeaux.

Panicking, my mind tried to figure out whether he was challenging me to a duel, or commanding me draw a picture of some kind. Reaching to my side, I had neither pistol, nor sword, nor pencil with which to defend myself!

"What the heck is he talking about?" I wondered to myself.

Turning and looking back down the hallway, I saw Edmund peering through a glass window and into an empty room - - his back was to me as we both stood in a shadowy corridor deep within the warehouse that holds his painting studio.

"What the heck is he doing now?” I wondered to myself.

I stood in silence as I watched Edmund raise his right arm to press his index finger against the glass. And after a moment of hesitation, he traced the letter X on the glass. Turning to me, he then said, “That’s another draw…3 stalemates. Dang!”

I walked down the hallway and to the spot where he stood. As I adjusted my gaze to catch the light upon the surface of the window, I saw that there were 3 games of tic-tac-toe drawn out in a thin layer of dust - - each game ending in a draw.

“I came through here about a month ago and found a grid in the dust of this window with a solitary O in the middle square. So, I obliged my challenger by placing an X in the upper right-hand corner,” Edmund explained. “Thus commencing the greatest competition the Earth has ever known!”

“Did you really think that you could win?” I asked.

“Of course I did! What kind of a question is that? And I almost had the bastard cornered several times during each of these three games…but he or she always drew their O in the worst possible spot…blocking me every time!” Edmund said these words as he mashed his clenched fist into the palm of his open hand…then his expression went cold.

“And so here we are…. another draw!” Edmund said without blinking.

He then drew a fourth grid in the dust and placed an X in its center square. “Take that!” he said as he stood back from the windowpane.*


(*Artist's recreation of the game.)

“It could be anyone,” Edmund said the next day as we walked past the window (the game still stood with Edmund’s lone X in the middle square). “I’ll bet that it’s the UPS truck driver! That’s why he or she only makes their moves every once in a while. They don’t have deliveries to this floor very often…and so they can’t constantly monitor the game like I can. This means that I have an advantage! Tic-tac-toe is not just a game of skill…it’s also a game of constant vigilance!”

“What do you mean by that, Edmund?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” replied Edmund.

A week went by and no further marks were made to the game.

However, at the end of the second week, an O appeared in the middle-left square!

Seeing that the next move was his, Edmund excitedly said, “This reminds me of what little I know about Lord Nelson and the Battle of Trafalgar. I might need a little time with this, L5.” I told him to take his time and that I would be back at the studio working on our latest painting.

After an hour had passed, Edmund walked into the studio with a strut, “That should just about win it for me! All I need is the upper-right corner and it’s three across and the World Championship!

I ran out into the hallway to see Edmund’s move: an X in the lower-left corner.


Brilliance?

One…

Two…

Three weeks went by and nothing happened with the game.

Then, late on a Thursday night, Edmund called me at home to say that the mystery person had blocked him in the upper-right corner with an O, but that he had placed an X in the lower-right corner - - thus giving him the tic-tac-toe equivalence of a checkmate.


“Huzzah!” he yelled into the phone, “We’ve got them on the run now!”

HUZZAH!

Huzzah indeed…. However, another two weeks passed and nothing happened with the game (the mystery person made no move whatsoever). I worked with Edmund at his studio during this time, and each day as we walked by the window, the game remained unchanged.

“They’re afraid!” Edmund said one afternoon as we studied the window, “They don’t want to admit defeat. I can’t say that I blame them either… you do have to admire how they’re fighting to the bitter end. The poor fools.”

Another week passed and nothing happened with the game. “Do you think that they’ve given up?” I asked as we left the building one evening.

“Cowards!” was Edmund’s reply.

Then, early this morning, Edmund and I arrived early at his studio to find a guy mopping the stairwell.

“Oh, no,” exclaimed Edmund, “They never clean the stairs in the place!”

“This could be bad, L5!” Edmund yelled as he bounded past the guy with the mop and through the doorway leading to the tic-tac-toe-window-hallway on the second floor. Lagging behind him, I could hear Edmund yelling, “No, no, no,” as I opened the stairwell door.

“They never clean this place…” Edmund looked about as sad and heartbroken as I have ever seen him.

“They never clean this place, L5.”

Looking past Edmund and at the glass windows, I saw that someone (probably the guy mopping the stairs) had washed away the tic-tac-toe games - - inadvertently destroying Edmund’s chance at victory.

“I had them on the run!” muttered Edmund through clenched teeth as his sadness turned into rage. “I’ll bet that they paid to have the building cleaned just to get out of having make their final move!”

Bounding back down the stairwell, Edmund went after the guy with the mop.

Finding myself in not so much of a hurry, I caught up with Edmund several minutes later as he stood alone in the building’s parking lot.

“Professor Moriarty couldn’t have played me any better, L5,” said Edmund as he scanned the area for any signs of the cleaning-mop-man. “Those windows probably haven’t been cleaned in ten...maybe twenty years.”

“And now the anonymous-cleaning-man has disappeared,” I said.

“When will it end? When will it end, L5? When will I ever be able to prove to the world that I’m actually good at something? Something like tic-tac-toe?” Edmund asked.

“Probably never, Edmund. I’m sorry to say, but probably never,” I replied as I turned and walked back into the building. – L5

The clean windows


Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Part 36: Accounts of the Life of Edmund Callipeaux

Contributor:
Edmund Callipeaux – artist, college instructor, lives in St. Louis Park.

5 January 2010, 7:03pm
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I've continued to sight personal hygiene products as I’ve been out and about on my day-to-day...even whilst on holiday in London! – EC

A teeth thing near St. Paul's Cathedral.


A hair thing on one of the 374 steps leading to the top of the dome at St. Paul's Cathedral.


A maxi pad on the banks of the River Thames, near the London Eye.



The Hyde Park Square Hoard:

Personal hygiene products found on the morning of 2 January 2010.


A frozen croc of Vaseline.


A bar of soap.


A squeeze thing of black shoe polish.


A hotel-sized shampoo thing with the top from the black shoe polish squeeze thing.


Another bar of soap!


Hygienic Signage.


Ancient personal hygiene at the British Museum.