Lunch Poetry Redux - 1997

I realize I have been remiss in sharing much of the old Lunch Poetry. My efforts to periodically reprint portions of the collection through addenda to other posts have been paltry and wholly insufficient. So here is a post dedicated fully to this nostalgic period.

In my earlier post I laid out the history of the Lunch Bunch, the stressful times many of us were having at work in the late '90s, and the role the Wednesday lunches played in buoying spirits and bringing a little cheer to the week. The poetry invitations came about as a (hopefully) humorous way to encourage people to actually get up from their desks and get a bit of a lift from taking lunch with friends.

My last sharing of a lunch invitation poem was with my 3/15/13 post Notes from the Lab - RDate 8.15. The offerings found there are Just Desserts and Loss of Habitat, May 1997 tributes to the unfortunate closing of the Taco Bell at the corner of Michigan and Griswold. This Taco Bell was the early home of our Wednesday lunches and also spawned the recurring character of "Estelle of the Bell", a mythical lady of the street who headlined a dozen or more limericks during the lunch poetry era.

So it seems fitting to resume at that point, which saw our little band spending weeks searching for and trying out new venues in the west downtown area. This quest eventually resulted in the grand Mexican Town phase of the Lunch Bunch tradition, but in the interim we tried, and seemingly closed, a number of other low-to-mid-grade eateries. Here are a collection of invitations from the early post-Taco Bell days, mid-to-late 1997.

This first one is from 6/3/97 and is set to the Beatles' Yesterday. It was framed as a lament to the gloried past, and signified our move to an almost-a-deli in the basement of Silver's Office Supply. It's entitled Yesterday's Wednesdays.

Past Wen'sdays.

All my tacos, they seemed here to stay.

Now it looks as though they've gone away.

Oh, how I grieve, for past Wen'sdays.

Sullenly, 

It's not quite the lunch it used to be,

There's no street folk sitting next to me.

Oh, past Wen'sdays left suddenly.

Why, it, had to close,

I don't know.

No one can say.

Though, I, should be strong,

How I long,

For past Wen'sday-ay-ay-ays,

Past Wen'sdays.

This Wens'day? Get Silvered?

The next invitation is from 6/10/97 and is entitled Under the Rainbow. It's set, of course, to Over the Rainbow and captures our continuing longing for our lost fast-food Mexican.

Some-where, out in the suburbs,

I've, heard, tell.

There's, a, place full of fast-food,

Known, as the Ta-co-Bell.

Some-day, we should go out there,

And, get, high.

On tacos, nachos and hot sauce,

My, how our hearts would fly.

If happy burb folk get to fly,

When e'er they want, then why,

Oh why, can't I-I-I-I-I?

TUTNP (this was our oft-used acronym for "the usual time and place", which was the front lobby of the McNamara Building)

On 6/17/97 we were still in mourning with this little diddy set to Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, aptly entitled Twinkle, Twinkle.

Twinkle, Twinkle, little Bell,

How we long for what you sell.

We don't mind the crowds so tough,

Nor a sales clerk's mild rebuff.

Keep your twinkle, little Bell,

Thoughts of you help keep us well.

TUTNP

In July we tried a new Hungry Howie's that had opened next to the firehouse on Washington Boulevard close to Larned Street. It had a dreaded all-you-can-eat pizza buffet. Here's an invitation from 7/8/97 set to Hi Ho from Snow White. It's entitled Dwarves' Delight.

Hi ho, hi ho,

It's off to lunch we go.

We don't ask much, cheap food and such,

Hi ho, hi ho.

Hi ho hi ho, hi ho,

Cold drinks and pizza dough,

Or big buffet (your tummy'll pay!)

Hi ho, hi ho.

Hi Hungry.

Hi Howie's.

Hi 'bout it?

On 7/15/97 we returned to Hungry Howie's and guess who we ran into - you'll recognize her by her poor behavior. (If you're not yet familiar with Estelle, a quick review of the earlier post Lunch Poetry will be helpful). This limerick is called Howie's Hussy.

As I picked up my pizza to eat,

I witnessed a scene indiscreet.

Two starry-eyed chaps,

She was straddling both laps!

Yes, Estelle, she's back on the street.

Despite the mediocre food, we continued to frequent Hungry Howie's through the rest of July and August as pickings were a bit slim at the time. Here's a short invitation from 7/29/97 set to My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.

My Howie lies over by Cobo,

Where pizza lies waiting for me.

With service not fit for a hobo,

At least the drink refills are free.

Pizza a-plenty.

We sail at 11:20.

Next came an invitation on 8/12/97 inspired by the Eagles' Peaceful Easy Feeling. I call it Pizza Easy Feeling (and it's one of my personal favorites).  

I like the way sparkling sunshine,

Lights my way through downtown,

As I walk to eat with you at Howie's delight,

With a billion cars all around.

I found out a long time ago,

What a worry can do you your heart.

Ah, but it can't take you down, you know,

If you just don't let it start.

And I get a pizza, easy feeling,

As we gather round,

That we already stand on higher ground.

Eagles Soar at 11:20

By September, we had had our fill of low-brow pizza and started trying new places. We often hadn't even picked the lunch spot of the day until we started walking down Michigan Avenue. We were desperate. It was our low point. Here's an invitation from 9/9/97 set to the Beatles' Nowhere Man that captured our malaise. I call it Nowhere Boob.

He's a real nowhere boob,

Sitting in his nowhere cube, 

Making no lunch plans for nobody.

Doesn't have the slightest clue,

Know's not where he's going to,

Isn't he a bit confused (like we?)

Nowhere boob, we're meetin'.

You'll soon know where you're eatin'.

Be there and, your lunch will be at our command.

He's as kind as he can be, but

Knows not what appeals to thee.

Nowhere boob, you just can't please us all.

Know where?

Be there.

TUT?P (the usual time, what place?)

Still "nomading" our way around the downtown lunch circuit, here's another invitation set to the Beatles' Little Help from My Friends, from 9/16/13. I call it The 'Eatles Part III or With a Lotta Help (from Our Friends).

What would you do if I moaned about work,

Would you sit down and listen to me?

Bring down your cares and we'll all tell some tales,

And try to set each other free. Oh,

We get by with a lotta help from our friends.

We're not shy 'bout gettin' help from our friends.

Better to try with some help from our friends.

Do we need anybody?

We need somebody to trust.

Could it be anybody?

It must be someone who's just.

Could you believe in a great day at work?

Yes, I'm certain that it could occur.

How do you feel when your job goes berserk?

I can't tell you 'cause it's all a blur. Oh,

We get by with a lotta help from our friends.

Can't be shy 'bout gettin' help from your friends.

Hope you'll still try with some help from your friends.

A little help can be plenty.

Come get some at 11:20!

One of the spots we occasionally hit during this time was Britt's deli, not a bad spot, but not exactly a perfect fit for the salsa-fied palates of our intense little group. Here's a simple invitation rhyme from 9/30/97 called Britt Wit?

This is it!

Time to git

To lunch and sit

And chat a bit.

I must admit

It keeps me fit.

So bring your wit

And come see Britt.

Don't flit.

Don't quit.

Just do-it!

TUT - N'P (the usual time, new place)

October saw the resolution of our venue issue with the first of the trips to the Mexican Town restaurant in - you guessed it - the Mexican Town area of Detroit, a mile or so west of downtown. As this was way too far to walk, the Burk family van began its career as the "lunch bus", providing door-to-door service to the group as often as we could get together.

Our restoration to Mexican food - and much better Mexican food than Taco Bell ever dreamed of - was a very welcomed development and in my opinion ushered in the best times the lunch group ever had. Here is the invitation from 10/7/97, our first lunch trip to Mexican Town. It's a tribute to the end of our time of turmoil and is set to Joni Mitchell's Both Sides Now. I call it Both Sides (Ow!)

Chips and salsa everywhere,

Scrumptious other Mexican fare,

Margaritas by the pair,

I'm hooked on lunch that way.

But then the plan came all undone.

The pain, it showed on everyone.

So many meals with much less fun,

No Mex, we lost our way.

We've looked at lunch from both sides now,

With Mex, without, and still somehow

Without it lunch does not enthrall.

We really need our Mex, after all.

At the corner,

11:20.

Big Green Van.

Apologies to Joni

Later that month we continued the new Mexican Town plan and unexpectedly ran into an old friend. Here's the invitation limerick from 10/28/97 called The Lady Gets Around.

While downing a chicken burrita,

I was grabbed by a strange senorita.

She batted her eyes,

And cried out, "Surprise!

It's Estelle, and I'd sure like to treat ya!"

Oh, imagine my state of chagrin,

As I realized the spot I was in.

I'd come all the way down,

Here to Mexican Town,

Just to find our old mistress of sin.

So I kept staring down at my food,

And mumbled, "I'm not in the mood?"

Estelle, full of sorrow,

Asked, "Maybe tomorrow?"

But alas, she had the wrong dude.

11:25 at the Corner.

November continued with three outings to Mexican Town, with invitations, beginning with this literary offering on 11/4/13 called Acrostic One.

 Merry
 Enlightening
 Xuberant
 Interesting
 Candid
 Affirming
 Natural

 Tasteful
'Opeful
 Wednesdays
 Nice

Next was lunch on 11/18/97 with this invitation limerick about our favorite lady and her commentary on a recent University of Michigan victory over arch rival Ohio State, called Lost Roses.

As Estelle watched her Scarlet and Gray,
By the Maize and Blue get blown away,
She smiled, "That's all right!
It's a groupie's delight!
At home with my Bucks, New Year's Day!"

So let's celebrate.
11:28.

Then there was a rare Tuesday outing Thanksgiving week which included another Eagles-inspired invitation set to Take it Easy. From 11/25/97, this is called Taco Easy.

Well I'm rollin' down the road,
Tryin' to loosen up my load,
I got seven women in my van.
Four that want some tacos,
Two that prefer nachos,
One who's a fajita fan.

Order easy, not too greasy,
Don't let the weight of your own lunch make you queasy.
Lighten up while we're all here,
Don't even try to hide your fear.
Just find a way to lift your cheer,
And take it easy.

Eagles soar,
At 11:24.

The lunch poetry year ended in grand style with these three holiday-themed invitations in December. First from 12/2/97, one set to It Came Upon a Midnight Clear called A Midday Clear.

We came uplifted with midday cheer,
Uproarious, strong and bold.
But then our waiter cried, "What on Earth?
The guy in the middle's so old!"

"For what it's worth, good man," I smiled,
"From looks you cannot tell a thing.
The world will measure your youth," said I,
"By how many angels you bring!"

Golden Harps.
11:30.

This invitation followed on wintry 12/9/13. It's set to and actually called Let it Snow.

Oh, the weather outside may be frightful,
But the company's delightful.
So, when it's your time to show,
Don't be slow. Hey, what snow? Let us go!

'Cause the snow shows no sign of stopping,
There'll be curbside pickup and dropping.
With lights on and driving slow,
Through the snow, to Mexico, we will go!

Be ready to go,
Eleven twenty-fo.

And finally, this invitation from 12/16/97 called O Little Town, also one of my personal favorites, set to O Little Town of Bethlehem.

O little Town so Mexican,
To chill we each week come by.
We love to steep ourselves in heaps
Of chips you so deeply fry.

We in your hard seats dineth,
With endless cheap delight.
We hope coming here throughout the year,
Will keep our spirits bright!

Well, there you have it. Perhaps more lunch poetry than even the most nostalgic of us could hope for. I'll resume with a look into 1998 lunch poetry in a post later this year. But for now, I'll leave you with this invitation in limerick form from the New Lunch Bunch outing a couple of weeks ago. It included a second post-lunch trip to Comerica Park to see the Tigers play the Washington Nationals. It was a gas with the Tigers winning 10-1.

Hey the Tigers are hot these days,
Having bettered their late-inning ways.
Of late they're not known
A lead to have blown,
So let's catch some CoPa rays!

Until next time, Bon Appetit!

Grosse Pointe Charles

One Year

I have now been in retirement mode for a full year. I've been thinking about how things have been going against expectations. Much has unfolded as I thought it would, but there have also been a few surprises. Here are some thoughts on the last 12 months.

First some basics. I sleep more. A bit of a surprise. You would think that working from home for the previous five years in a job over which I had a lot of control would have allowed me to get the sleep I wanted all along. No commute, only infrequent early meetings, very few after-hours sessions. But, no. What I now realize is that just having a lot of commitments, regardless of when they fall in the calendar or during the work day, drives a lot of thinking and planning and fretting that take up a big chunk of one's awake time. The key to the extra sleep has been having way fewer things to think, plan and fret about.

Another surprising part is when the extra sleep occurs. I thought it would be during the day. You know, the famous naps on the sofa or in the hammock that are supposed to be part of the retirement shtick? Again, no. It has been just going to bed earlier and staying there longer. Having been a night owl my whole life, I was kind of looking forward to late and even late-late movie time on a regular basis. But it seldom works out that way. If I start a movie anytime after 10:00 pm I usually just fall asleep, putting me in that weird position of having to wake up to go to bed.

I also exercise more. No surprise as I now truly "have all the time there is". So working in a bike ride, brisk walk, kayaking jag or high-energy lawn-care session has been no problem. And having my Bride just about always ready and willing to join me in the exercise activity of the day has helped with the motivation. The surprise here is that I seem to like it, even those manly tussles with ornery weeds and seemingly endless grass. While I'm not really into "the burn", it does feel good to get out and make your body work, even sweat a little. And (duh) it gets easier the more you do it.

Complementing these excesses is the fact that I eat less. This started off by design last fall in yet another attempt to return to my former svelte self (way former). But unlike past efforts, this time the plan seems to be working. Ten months and 25 (fewer) pounds later, I'm still on the program which is basically just eating (and drinking :-) what I like but in measured and smaller amounts. This has caused unexpected but welcome storage space excesses and smiling faces down at the Salvation Army thrift store as bags of old "fat boy" clothes have walked the "concrete mile" (see previous post The Purge for more on this phenomenon).

If you're getting the feeling that I'm a little preoccupied with fitness these days, you've been paying attention. This was a change in awareness that I didn't see coming. For most of my working life fitness was a hobby to be worked in around other, more pressing activities like raising children, work, maintaining a household, work, traveling, and, oh yeah - work. As a result there were many programs but little success.

In retirement, it's different. Fitness is everything now. When you're old the main thing you want is to get older. To be given the time to do all those things you couldn't find the time to do when you were working. To play with all those toys you've been socking away your whole life. So for me each morning begins with a review of the fitness activities for the day. I then move to whatever chores I can't get out of, followed by fun (see my earlier post The Art of the Dawdle for more guidance in this tricky area). But fitness is definitly #1.

There have been other, less desirable changes in the fitness area that may be worth noting. I am now familiar with a much greater range of both over-the-counter and prescription drugs, and their side effects. I've also expanded my understanding of the medical procedures common to gentlemen of my demographic. Auxiliary to this new learning is a pedestrian but slowly growing grasp of medical insurance procedures (including those pertinent to Medicare). Now as I open each piece of insurance-related mail I search for those magic words - "This is Not a Bill". Whew. Another bullet dodged.

The medical challenge of aging, of no surprise I'm sure to those who have preceded me into their mid-60s, is determining what is actually a medical problem to do something about and what is just, well, that's the way your body works now. Live with it. It can all be quite confusing. Being a between-the-lines kind of guy, my pattern is usually to dash off an email to my internist with every new "discomfort" (that's a great medical term) and then do what I'm told. It's a humbling experience. But so far, so good.

One thing I failed to take into account when I retired is that most of my friends are younger and are still working. How inconsiderate. This has resulted in many potentially fun times ending with texts or emails that essentially say "no, Jimmy (or Dave or Brian or fill-in-the-blank) can't come out and play." Bummer. Good thing I'm really a closet introvert.

Another area of unanticipated change is my TV viewing habits. Having few time constraints I find myself sitting down for a half hour or so of news and ending up spending several hours surfing news channels following the hot political or social topic of the day. This is especially troublesome during the winter months on snowy or very cold days when it is difficult finding a reason to change out of my pajamas.

On the up side, I have been able to watch more Tigers games and golf tournaments than ever before. As Nancy shares these interests, that has been a lot of fun. I've even gotten her into old Star Trek TV series videos (of which I own about 600 hours). How many brides know what a Cardassian is or who is the changeling, Quark or Odo? Mine does. Sweet.

My wardrobe is certainly simpler, which has not been a surprise. I'm talking the basic retirement outfit of a tee shirt, shorts and deck shoes. Throw in the occasional polo shirt for dress up and a pair of jeans and a denim shirt for cooler days and that's about it. Things are a little more elaborate in the winter, but not much. Add a hoody and cozy slippers.

But despite life in the casual zone, somehow I haven't been moved to rid myself of all those suits, sport coats, dress slacks and shirts, and ties. My beloved ties (I think I'm one of the few that actually liked wearing ties; I always found them interesting and saw them as somewhat of an indicator of the wearer's attention to detail). My old business outfits are truly old friends with which I share many memories. And with my recent weight loss, they all fit better. So for now, they stay.

One mild surprise this past year is that I haven't made all my hoped-for progress in my hobbies. While I have had much more time to invest in these activities, I've found that screening music for my iTunes library, digitizing my slides and photos, reading all of the books on my list, improving my golf game and keeping up with the blog just take more time than I thought they would. But, eh, I'm further along on all of these endeavors than I ever have been before. So I can't really complain.

On a practical note, I do grow more thankful everyday that I have a federal pension (assuming Congress doesn't go totally over the falls). While the plan in taking a government job all along was to trade potential higher earnings for a steady paycheck, generous time off, high-quality health care and a solid pension, who knew in 1972 what a fortuitous choice that would turn out to be in the early 21st century. I owe it all to my last boss in the Army - a retired WWII tank commander and New York City party store owner named Plinio Mantone - who talked me into taking the civil service exam before I was mustered out of the service. Thank you, oh yes thank you, dear Plinio.

And one final philosophical observation. A year into retirement and away from the grind of the business world I find myself less concerned with how the world works and more accepting of the fact that it does work (my favorite book on this subject, by the way, is the Song of the Dodo by Richard Quamman).

During my working years my greatest asset (other than an easy relationship with the English language) was an ability to sort things out and turn events to my advantage. I did this mainly by learning who to listen to, paying attention, and crafting appropriate interventions when needed.

Now, I'm more content to mostly just observe, accept and enjoy how things are going, whether it's politics, relationships, sports, or any other walk of life. I work at successfully fulfilling my designated roles, of course, but also do my best to limit efforts to influence outcomes to things I really care about such as the well-being of family and friends. I like the sidelines, much more than I thought I would.

This doesn't mean I don't have opinions or won't argue a point in good company. But it does mean that I have a great respect and appreciation for the natural and spiritual forces that drive our world (including my own fortunes) and the inevitable balance they create. In other words I believe more than ever that what goes around comes around and that there is no free lunch.

Well, there you have it. My thoughts one year into retirement on how things are going. As always, comments welcome.

Grosse Pointe Charles.




 

Hell Month

-the dark underbelly of the annual Burk family picnic.

When I retired last year I was feeling like life would be different. Less work. More fun. Fewer obligations. Hammock time. Late night movie screenings with no concern about early rising. Drifting down the shore in a kayak with a cold drink on board. Sitting in the gazebo for hours waiting for an interesting bird to come along. And more. It was all true. Until May. Then all hell broke loose. Well, sort of. I had forgotten about Hell Month. Let me explain.

For just about our entire married life of now 33 years Nancy and I have thrown a spring picnic. In the early days our picnic was on Sunday of Memorial Day weekend. Eventually we moved the picnic to the Saturday after Memorial Day. This avoided conflicts for those who had developed their own family traditions or typically had travel plans for the first long weekend of the summer season. (For a look at the latest version of this annual event see the Burk Family Blog posts Ready for the Annual Picnic and Annual Picnic).

But the dark secret of the annual picnic is that it has always been a ruse. We have shamelessly used our friends for years for personal benefit. This benefit was - home improvement. You see, I'm basically lazy and without a great deal of skill in the tool department. Oh I have tools. Not a lot by "Tim the Tool Man Taylor" standards. But I have the usual pounding, driving, drilling and cutting implements, some of which even plug in. After all, I have had as many Fathers Days as the next dad. But unlike a few of my close friends, I don't wake up every morning just hoping for a reason to crack the tool box.

So what strategy could my Bride and I conjure up to make sure that needed spring cleaning and fix-ups took place, as well as the occasional home improvement project? The answer was the annual Burk family picnic. The idea was that if we invited a large number of friends over for a cookout, we would want the place to look as nice as possible. And it has worked like a charm for years. But it hasn't been a cake walk. It's taken a lot of planning, time, effort and the sacrifice of the month of May - now known in the Burk household as Hell Month.

It all starts in April, often while sitting on the veranda of a Florida resort. We start with a review of the previous year's list of tasks and then start brainstorming new stuff. This can include heavy maintenance tasks that were skipped the previous year (like staining the deck or varnishing the yard swing) or improvement projects that have been discussed since the previous Hell Month. After completing the list, we let it simmer for a few days. Then, after easing pre-Hell Month anxieties through a little liquid therapy, we agree on a final plan.

So you can get a feel for just how this plays out, here is the final list for this year, divided into three sections - projects/cleaning/prep tasks to be completed prior to party week, party week cleaning and shopping, and party-day set up tasks. Yes, this may seem a little over the top. Okay, we lost the lid years ago. But before you laugh so hard you sneeze all over your screen, remember that this system has worked for 30 plus years with only minor penalty minutes.  

To be completed May 6 through May 21
Level gate	Dad
Buy and install new garage and porch lights	Dad
Check/repair deck and spot lights	Dad
Install yard hammock pole	Dad
Trim white pine (by hammock pole)	Dad
Relocate firewood and rack to cottage	Dad
Cleanout wood around shed	Dad
Research installation of/install putting green	Dad
Replace burned out lights in kitchen	Dad
Recharge storm glass in living room (barometer)	Dad
Install stain glass window in stairway	Dad
Repair kitchen drawer	Dad
Inventory plates/utensils	Mom
Weed garden	Mom
Shampoo carpets	Mom
Reserve kennel for Kody	Mom
Cleanout feeders around shed	Mom
Chip twig pile/tidy twig area	Mom
Buy and install palm tree for deck	Mom
Fix loose facings in kitchen	Mom
Install valances for family room side window	Mom
Wash family and living room windows	Joint
Refurb Adirondacks	Joint
Touch up swing	Joint
Refurb/relocate picnic table to cottage	Joint
Tighten deck	Joint
To be completed May 29-31
Tidy/dust/vacuum basement rooms	Dad
Dust first floor/upstairs rooms	Dad
Wash/dust kitchen	Dad
Complete final mow	Dad
Confirm shopping list	Dad
Shop food, drinks and supplies	Dad
Pack beer fridge	Dad
Tidy garage	Dad
Wash deck, swing, Adirondacks and lawn chairs	Dad
Mop kitchen floor	Mom
Trim hedges	Mom
Tidy kitchen fridge	Mom
Check/refresh the propane tank/charcoal	Mom
Prepare supplemental food	Mom
Tidy office	Mom
To be completed day of picnic
Sweep drive, deck & garage	Dad
Set up deck seating	Dad
Set up yard area	Dad
Set up deck drink area	Dad
Board dog	Mom
Patty burgers	Mom
Set family room table	Mom
Vacuum first floor	Mom
Clean/re-towel bathrooms	Mom
Buy ice	Christy Cathy

You may have noticed that the party responsible for completing (or at least organizing and leading) each activity is identified in the right column. (For those of you who worked with me for years in Research, you may be wondering where the predecessor relationships and duration for each task are shown? Don't be silly. It's only a picnic :-) As you can see from the list, Mom and Dad took heavy hits this year. In their defense I must say that in earlier years when they were students and living at home, the kids did contribute their fair share. Ah, the good old days.

This year's Hell Month activities went off pretty much according to plan (I know, you're shocked - shocked to find planning going on in the Burk household), but there was one major difference - I had no place to hide. In past years, I performed my Hell Month tasks on weekends and evenings, crawling into my IRS Research workstation chair on weekday mornings (self-medicated as necessary to regain the use of my extremities) for a "grueling" work day of conference calls and emails. Little did I realize that without the job, there would be no breaks between all that cleaning, raking, sweeping, mowing, varnishing, drilling, twig-breaking, relocating, dis-assembly and reassembly. It gave a whole new meaning to the term Hell Month.

Of course, we have much of the ordeal on film. So here are a few highlights of the fun we had prior to guest arrival for this year's Burk family picnic. First we had what I like to call the warm-up exercise. You know, an activity designed to wake up sleeping parts of the brain and reduce the anxiety that accompanies any attempt to be productive. The chosen activity typically includes a little stretching, some structured breathing, a review of each tool and its intended function, and a refresh on safety procedures (things like Manhattans and power tools don't mix). This year's warm up activity was assembly of a new charcoal grill (which my Bride prefers over the gas grill for routine cooking). Here are a few shots from the grill challenge. First the dreaded parts inventory (not really sure what I would do if there ever actually were parts missing as by this time I have typically trashed the packaging; fortunately, I usually end up with extra parts).

The inventory is customarily followed by confirmation that needed tools are at hand (or in this case, in hand. Not surprisingly, this  particular tool was the one most often needed throughout Hell Month. To paraphrase those old Monsanto commercials, this tool doesn't perform any tasks - it makes performing the tasks better :-)

Here we have a shot of what I like to call the "till death do us part" segment that occurs during most projects. You know. That moment when the loving, supportive spouse (who has actually read the instructions) smiles through her teeth while thinking "just hold on - he'll figure it out eventually".

And the typical response to the "till death do us part" moment - "Hey, I meant to do that. I only tried to mount the legs backwards to make sure they didn't fit".

Finally, the finished product - proof that with enough lubrication and forgiveness, we'll get there.

Next up was relocation of the backyard picnic table to the cottage. As we were seldom using the table at home, we felt it would be a nice addition to Wiser Times and simplify mowing of the back yard. Here is a shot of me down on all fives (yes, at my age the butt counts) taking this puppy apart so it would fit into the Traverse.

And a few shots of the eventual reassembly at Wiser Times. Note the advanced wrenching technique in the fourth shot. It was the only way I could figure out how to get the lag screws back in the same holes (and yes, I procure my Ibuprofen at Costco).

One major task always on the Hell Month list is reclaiming the deck from winter. Here is a shot of the yard-vac stage. Note that I prefer the more stylish cross-shoulder/one-handed drag technique. I don't recommend this approach without prior consultation with a chiropractor.

Here is a rare shot of me resorting to the two-handed/stubborn-leaf grip to dislodge a particularly ornery twig clinging to the groove between two planks. The battle to protect one's space from the ceaseless onslaught of nature is not for the weak of heart.

The yard-vac stage, of course, is followed by the equally daunting deck washing stage, which involves an arsenal of inventive tools such as buckets, brushes, hoses - and liniment.

But the results are always worth it, as one has through his or her own gifts created a clean and debris-free living environment (which unfortunately lasts on average anywhere from 10-12 minutes; it's something about living among trees).

Another common task during Hell Month is refurbishing the pine yard furniture. Here is a shot of me applying my scraping, sanding and varnishing skills to one of the Adirondacks, each of which received a thorough overhaul this spring. Here I'm demonstrating the half-inverted/horizontal side-scrape technique commonly used in the northern states and parts of southern Ontario (note the elaborate utility belt I'm sporting; Bob Villa - eat your heart out). Fortunately, due to a top-drawer redo last year the yard swing required only minor touch ups this time around (one of the few windfalls in this year's program).

Here are the finished products, ready for a summer of lounging, imbibing and late-afternoon bird watching.

Of course as many of you know, this year's big yard project was to install a putting green. This idea served two purposes - first to make better use of a section of the backyard that doesn't seem to like grass, and second to support the Burk family's growing interest in golf. So the putting green is really half yard decoration and half new toy. It was work, and this first attempt was quite a learning experience. But the finished product turned out to be eminently putt-able.

We've had great fun with our little three-cup layout. The surface is a bit bumpy but not so much that the ball won't track. The tricky contours make up somewhat for the short distances between cups (the longest is about 12 feet). We might make the effort in the future to re-lay the surface on a smoother bed, but it would take about six more bags of crushed stone, two six-packs, at least three buddies and the rental of a power tamper to get the job right. I'll let certain of you know if we ever get up the energy (those aforementioned souls who do wake up looking for a reason to crack open their tool boxes). Here are just a few shots of the installation process (which is more fully documented in the Burk Family Blog post Backyard Putting Green).

First there was the clean up of the desired space, which had been our location of choice for unprocessed sticks and other yard waste. This is the "before" picture.

Then there was clearing what grass remained to frame the desired area for the putting green.

Followed by laying weed-preventing cloth.

And spreading crushed stone over the cloth.

Next, my pathetic attempt to smooth things out with a rented roller.

Followed by brushing sand into the putting surface (artificial turf with tiny pockets to hold the sand, which in turn holds the surface against the crushed stone bed).

Finally the surface is staked in place (to resist wind),

and the cups are inserted (another "all fives" activity).

And voila! A home putting surface. We also added decorative stone as a border around the maple tree and plan to do the same on the west side of the green (the left in this picture) to separate it from the ground cover in the garden.

One other project that was completed without documentation was the installation of a hammock post in the east garden area of the back yard (oddly, the camera crew was on some kind of retreat during this project; it may have involved participation in a Judge Judy marathon). But here is a shot of the new hammock ready for action, including a fence rope-pull (for just the right amount of sway), stepping stones to the point of entry, and the required cocktail side table. If you're looking for me this summer, this might be a good place to start.

Well, there you have it. Another Hell Month has come and gone, and was survived, with new lessons learned. Here's hoping that in the future I plan a little better, with less work spread over a longer time period. Life does have its challenges. But for now, I expect to be back in my groove (see previous post The Art of the Dawdle), relaxing, enjoying the summer months, and blogging, with only incidental contact with anything that might be categorized as a tool.

There will be one exception to this plan. The cottage counterpart to Hell Month is what I call Heck Week. Less intense but none-the-less a challenge. Unlike Hell Month which involves completing a long list of tasks and projects, Heck Week at Wiser Times is designed to launch fix-ups and improvement projects that get worked more leisurely over the summer. More leisurely - way. I'll have more to say about Heck Week and its key event - the Spinner Afterglow - in an upcoming post.

Until next time - Grosse Pointe Charles.