captainsblog | Opposite Days (Reply)

Emptied and Refilled: two to report, one a good thing, one a major pain.

The Saga of the Flat Tire from Hell, briefly mentioned at the end of my last post, continued over the past two days. I first “fixed” both rear tires Friday morning when the Real Bad Red Tire Light first went off, using a DIY air hose. It was fine the rest of the day. Yesterday morning, the LEFT rear was pancake flat; I filled it with the nearest DIY air I could get to, then took it to a tire shop for proper “repair.” They diagnosed it as bad valve stems on both rear snows.

Ninety minutes and 60ish dollars later, all “fixed.” Yay! After the tire was filled, I proceeded to empty myself- a three-hour appointment to donate platelets at the Red Cross for the first time in years. I'll come back to some details about that. Once done, I went back out to the car which seemed to be fine in the rear, remained fine while I ran a bunch of other errands, and was still fine when I got home six hours after the "fix."

This morning, the left rear was back to being flat. This time, I decided not to even move the car out of the driveway until I had a replacement lined up and AAA to inflate it. I took the dog on our usual Sunday morning trail walk in Eleanor's car, then went back to the scene of the "fix." No, he only leak-tested the other rear snow tire, which was fine except for its valve stem. He just assumed that was the problem with both. Also no, he had no time today to diagnose it and no way to get a replacement tire in stock for days if I needed it. They weren't the ones who sold me those snows, so I had no road hazard coverage from them- nor probably from anyone, since they went on four years ago (but only, at most, 15,000 miles since they're only on the car about four months and 3-4,000 miles at a time)

After some checks at a bunch of closed-Sunday chains, I found a Monro Muffler at Main & Transit could get one replacement snow tire of the right size on the car tomorrow if needed. Meanwhile, AAA came. They’re hilarious about their marketing of emergency service. See the message they sent and the other message it instantly reminded me of.

At first, AAA Tow Truck Man told me he couldn't refill the tire, even temporarily, onsite and he'd have to tow it. Next thing we knew, though, he had filled it up. He also did a little assuming from the look of the thing. I drove it over, Eleanor came and got me, and within a couple of hours he called: no new tire needed. A piece of metal had snagged in it, causing the slow leak, and it was patched and ready to pick up. Given recent events, we decided to do that tomorrow morning in case it goes flat overnight a FOURTH time:P

As for the other emptying part, that was me of a platelet supply. I'd done it a few times with a friend at Saturday morning sessions at a locally based bloodsucker now called Connect Life, but in July of 2020, the Red Cross got my number and asked me to come in. That did not go well. The phlebotomist did a crap job with one of the two needles they stabbitied me with that time, and within half an hour, I'd set off the alarm because the "return" line was backing up into my left elbow and turning me into Grimace years before that would be considered a good thing-

They wound up not even able to use the little I'd produced, there was little if any donation swag, and the one thing I was promised out of the deal- a COVID test of the blood back when that was near impossible to get- was never delivered because the sample was tossed.

This time went much better. It was back to just the one-arm method run through a machine, the infusion site was well dug, the ringy-dingy never went off once for me and I was done after almost two episodes of Bad Monkey and a friend's novel I'd been meaning to make progress on. As for swag? A zippered tote bag with Platelet Donor in large friendly letters; a cute long-sleeve donor shirt-

- along with a promised $10 e-gift card for first time donors (which I am to them, apparently) who sign up for a second or third comeback within three months, and automatic entry into a drawing for Bills playoff tickets. At least I have a chance at the latter; I suggested that anyone who doesn't answer their donation call should be automatically be given two Sabres tickets and forced to attend. (More about those fortunes and misfortunes in "Winners and Losers," still to come....)

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Darkness and Light, or, Happy and SAD: a possible Something in my life, but definitely making it brighter a little at a time. I mentioned in my last post, in addition to the tire situation, that my first four mornings of 2025 had all begun with me waking from very intense weird dreams. That continued last night with one involving us selling our house (probably not this one but maybe our prior one or maybe one we saw in a movie) and having to cut down trees on the property so our buyers would get their mortgage. The first three of those wakeups were followed by general feelings of malaise. Was Jimmy Carter's death bringing it on? It certainly wasn't finances (which have been good), or any more Bad Work than I usually get, or anything between the two of us or anyone in the fam. One possibility was something Eleanor fights herself: Seasonal Affect Disorder, a perfectly reasonable condition to get oneself into when the daylight is at its shortest and cold cloud cover cuts into what is there. One solution to it is to purchase, or in her case fashion, a "light box" to simulate the stimulation:

Typical recommendations include using the light box:

-    Within the first hour of waking up in the morning
-    For about 20 to 30 minutes
-    About 16 to 24 inches (41 to 61 centimeters) from your face, but follow the manufacturer's instructions about distance
-    With eyes open, but not looking directly at the light

The one she's used is a high-intensity bulb on a camera tripod, which we moved in here on Friday to see if it helps:

The 20-30 recommended time fits in with my morning routine of eating breakfast, answering trivia questions (in season) and checking up on accounts both financial and media at this very desk. I'm also being careful not to fry the laptop monitor or the bobbleheads.

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Comings and Goings: In the entertainment world, it's been more goings and then comings. I or we have recently finished a number of first-season shows on various streamers, some already promised to return, others cut short of such a result. Among those already in the can or finishing production are Ted Danson's most recent effort, Man on the Inside; the Shrinking sessions I've already mentioned watching in S2 finale, which has been announced as returning for a third; and the UK's Funny Woman, already aired over there but due to return on PBS next month. Having less luck are HBO's The Franchise, which ended on a cliffhanger and became its first 2025 official cancellation; Apple's Sunny, which also got just one season out of it; and Prime's Good Omens, not entirely dead but cut to a single 90-minute finale.

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Additions and Subtractions: I learned this morning that I was wrong about something I'd gone and assumed about something in the local music/entertainment scene: Mohawk Place, the east-of-downtown stage that has hosted several friends and decades of memories, is reportedly not closing on account of the stage-diving tragedy from not quite a year ago. The rest of the story came on a fairly new non-profit website run by alumni of various alt publications from years gone by, known as The Hive. At least two friends are involved in its writing and production, and one of them has followed this venue for much longer than I have; according to his recount, the bar is not closing because of the most recent stage-diving disaster, but due to health issues of the owner and the overall state of small-venue music in this community. But it's the one he wrote (linked here) that tells much more of the backstory. Its story may not be over- but then the Tralf was supposed to come back until some hedge fund bros bought and internally demolished the site- but if it is Lights Out on East Mohawk, I will have some great memories of the few I saw there and, by contact high, of the many more it meant much more to.

More lights DID go out today on Allen Street. Mulligan's Brick Bar, a fixture of the Allentown neighborhood since the 1930s, was consumed by fire in the wee smalls, the second historic watering hole on that street to go up in flames in recent months. The building has already been declared a total loss and demolition is being sought. I had never set foot in it, but the sense of loss at its neighboring clubs was palpable all day today. We fear these losses are stopping the momentum of this city's recovery as the old stereotypes of not safe and those people get unfairly reinforced.   I will return to the ones I love once I've got four tires to get to them on.

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Finally, Wins and Losses. The Bills ended their regular 2024 schedule in a meaningless-to-the-postseason loss at New England. Meaningless to the team's playoff seeding, anyway; it brought performance bonuses to a number of Buffalo players, and the Patriots, by winning, lost a chance to claim the #1 overall pick in the upcoming draft. We now know their opponent at home next weekend will be Denver; that it has been picked as the 1 p.m. Sunday game; and that CBS, rather than a streamer, will carry it nationwide, which will make Rochester fans happy because only the immediate home market gets a live broadcast when Prime or Peacock gets the assignment.

The other Buffalo football team also won this weekend. Three of UB's college football program alumni are on the Bills, and all three got into last week's home finale against the Jets (who also won today for inexplicable reasons). The current UB Bulls earned a minor bowl invitation, and got a weekend trip to the Bahamas against Lynchburg's Liberty University, whupping the Fundies in what I am calling the Jerry Falwell Junior Poolboy Bowl.

The hocking fuckey team lost last night out west. Their road trip ended 1-2-1, the losses all against much better teams, but they once again blew a late multi-goal lead to Colorado and could have gone home 2-1-1 or better. We watched two periods of Slap Shot for the first time in ages and wish the Sabres could find their Paul Newman or Hanson Brothers.

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And with that, good night. Or good morning,