PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

This text is currently hidden by a css change. Alow's me to go directly to the category description because it is editable in the front end,

Traveling Companions

Tomatoes-that-made-it-from-Boston-to-Canada-and-bac_20220821-032320_1 Resilient

I'm not sure where these handsome little tomatoes were grown (maybe Canada?), but I can testify that they were purchased in West Roxbury, MA some 10 or 12 days prior to the publishing of this post. 

Since that fateful moment, they have voyaged far and wide and still appear to be in excellent shape. Even after a tense border crossing during which I chose not to declare their existence (nerve-wracking), then traveling through complicated Quebecer country in the heat and the rain, these little fellers appear entirely unscathed. Part of that is luck: I was well fed and didn't need to consume them. 

I will be honored to accompany these gutsy fruit back to their home, where I will proceed to consume them with olive oil and salt.

Next time you're traveling, consider for a moment the resilient grape tomato. 

  681 Hits

Hold That Rail

I would calculate that roughly half to three quarters of my conversations with my teenage children regard how to behave sensibly and avoid making stupid mistakes that you will regret later. I possess a Swiss army knife of advice, including these: bring water; a light sweater will help if the a/c is too high; the sun is low so wear a brimmed hat; hold the railing on these stairs.

That I'm mostly ignored when I say these things is no surprise. After hearing dad issue the same advice over and over, the value of the words has decreasing benefit. Indeed, after a while I begin to think that I should start to use "reverse psychology." Psychologists have a word for this: "psychology." There is nothing reverse about it. But anyway, in order to get my teens to bring water, I might say "whatever you do, don't bring water." To hell with Dad and his stupid advice! I'm bringing gallons of water! And sunscreen!

Of course, I'm a classic "do as I say not as I do" type of person. OK, mostly not – I tend to bring a rolling suitcase of items I might need "just in case" when I make a five-minute trip to the park. But occasionally, I could use my own advice. To wit, this morning I woke up in the middle Quebec City (awakened by chickens out the back window, no less), and excited for the day and wishing to give my wife some extra sleep to recover from our fancy dinner than ended at 11:30 PM, gathered all my stuff – shorts, a sweater, my backpack, my wallet, my watch – and then tried to sneak down the stairs carrying these things, which left me unable to hold the railing. You can imagine what happened next.

Somehow, falling down a flight of uncarpeted wooden steps left me with just a few very minor injuries. I seem to have the same number of teeth and eyes that I had yesterday, all bones are intact, and I managed to acquire just a few new battle scars. 

Lesson learned: prior to offering advice to your teens, practice saying your piece in front of a mirror.

  642 Hits

Stop Driving While Texting!

One thing that drives me nuts is when people are texting just fine and then, suddenly, they decide to pull out their car. It's like, wait a minute! You're texting. Don't you think you should be more focused?

No one will feel worse than you if you hurt someone because you weren't focused on your texting. It may seem like you're safe and in control, but all it takes is a split second of turning your attention to steering and braking for autocorrect to change your message from "I love u" to "I loathe u." And because you continue to be distracted by driving, you don't even realize that you've done this, wounding your friend or your mom or that person you've been admiring on Tinder. 

It can wait. You can drive when you're done texting. 


  662 Hits

The Knickerman

Someone should stage a dramatic reading of a play about one man's struggle to outfit himself with excellent and colorful golf knickers, which he believes is the only thing that stands between him and golf greatness.

Confounded by supply-chain and color-scheme issues, he tries but fails to outfit himself appropriately, which he tells his wife of some twenty years is the only reason he hasn't been able to join the tour. They live on a golf course because back in the day he convinced his then-fiancée, who knew less about golf that you do, that he was destined to be a touring pro, and she wanted to believe him because it sounded really awesome to be the wife of a guy who spends 100% of his time living out of suitcases and never seeing the kids.

Over time the woman comes to see that her husband has delusions of grandeur, since they live on the fairway of a short par 5 hole and she is able to spy him whack at the ball 8 or 9 times before it reaches the green. She hacks into his account at the country club they spend way too much money to be members of and sees that he possesses a 30+ handicap at the age of forty, and confronts him about it. "Of course, I have a 30+ handicap!" he hollers. "I don't have proper golf gear."

At her wits' end, she pulls out her mom's old Singer sewing machine and fashions the loudest, most ridiculous golf knickers she can conceive of, made of red fabric embroidered with little golf clubs and balls and bags, which she presents to him for his birthday, mostly as a joke. But he doesn't take it as a joke, donning the gear and heading straight for the first hole, where, as the lights dim all around except for a spotlight on him, a voice from the ether call his name to tee off at the US Open.

Question: should I first seek out a membership at a private golf club for the purposes of "research"?

  643 Hits

 

 

Daily Haiku

 

Cats oft’ void their guts.

They cough out fur balls. They puke.  

We tread carefully.  

 

College Tuition

We dig ourselves a deep hole

Need a second job.

 

Now that I’m sixty

People think I’m a wise man

Probably, I’m not

 

I’m in my Fifties

But tomorrow I’m Sixty

Will need a sports car

 

My PCP Says

“Keep doin’ what yer doin’”

Prob’ly I should not

 

It’s St. Patrick’s Day

We eat beef that has been corned

Whatever that means

 

Robots and A.I.

I will make use of these soon

To do my taxes

 

Strange Oscar night end

Pacino failed to mention

Best pic nominees

 

Who’s this Katie Britt?

Scary. Wierd. We could have used

A Trigger Warning

 

Subscribe To The Blog

Produce This Audio Play!

Ever wanted to produce a radio play?  Think you have the mettle?  Read on!

Tag Cloud

the future Royal Stuff afterlife Eating and Drinking Hawaii Drumming Biden Europe Butterfingers Hurricanes 1980s Imaginings Syracuse Canadiana soapbox rantings high winds Soviet Union Quebect winter Putin Me Grass Skiing Stairs Wind Martinis Accounting Climate Change Brewing Bands I haven't seen Bill Monroe Politics As Usual Eclipse Cats Work Brain Surgery COVID gathering throngs Food Them Kids Teeth Soccer Reveillon Emergencies China Higher Education vacation curling shoes Audubon Bar Golf Bands I've Seen Tom Waits Music Soup nukes coronavirus Cars Snow Guns Ukraine Things I've done Marketing Gimmicks Art Weather Vaccines the sea BB King Boston Christmas Bodysurfing Communication Channels Earth Sugarbush cornhole Elvis Presley Barber Shops Audio Soul Coughing Ticketmaster Advertising punk music tambourrine Masks Roommates I've Had Ice Dancing Hot Air Balloon People I know Zoom COVID-19 The Future Good Reads Rock Bands Mom and Dad Plastic Pats Candy town square Skiing acerbic high school principal Bands I've seen War and Peace Ketchup Rabbit Hole Bunker Short Fiction Trump Email NPR My Estate Bikes Head injuries Radiohead Skating Motorists Football Cornhole star Knots First World Problems Fiction Beer Religion Bicycles NFL midwinter vacations My Parents Texting Stories I should write Big Shoes Bob Dylan Spoon the band Hand Planes Car Dealerships weather seasons New England Reese's Peanut Butter Cups TV Mass General Hospital plan mid-winter vacations Allergies Mike Doughty Diseases Peacekeeping Coyotes Joan Jett Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde The Past Chowder Vaughn College Theater My sisters technology When I die US Senate Spice Girls Guns and Ammo Red Sox My grandparents Sports Godfather The future The Old Days Existential Crisis Liz Phair Scotch and Sirloin Yeast Dad advice Belgian Ales Hache Verde baseball Canada Halloween Smoke Meat Real Estate Folk Music Mustard