The importance of being handy

I like things that work.
Call me crazy, but as intriguing it may be to take something apart and learn how something works, I have far better uses for my time than spending hours fixing something, or (for the things beyond my capabilities) waiting for them to be fixed.
My townhome has been plagued with any number of problems since I moved in just a few months ago, starting with the lack of air conditioning for about a month in summer. Since then, the issues have included a cracked bathtub, a cracked oven knob, a cracked toilet cover, poor wiring for the phone and cable jacks, a horrifically placed electrical outlet just inches from the kitchen faucet and then some.
But the roof hasn't leaked (yet) and the electricity is on all the time, so I find it hard to complain too much — this blog post notwithstanding.
But it makes me appreciate my car a lot more when I put it all in perspective.
The sporty little Pontiac has been in my possession since the summer of 2000. Aside from a small repair to the wiring, minor scares from the 'Check Engine' light (nothing serious) and the inevitable oil changes and tire replacements one incurs over the course of 76,000-plus miles, the car has held up well so far.
I try not to drive it over long distances anymore (that's what our new gas-guzzling monstrosity is for), but every day it starts up with no problems. While it will be a sad day when that's no longer the case, I love my car and it returns my affection with a headache-free day when it comes to automotive matters.

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'Remember When'

For someone in their mid-20s who's job involves the day-to-day, current events of the world, I'm intensely concerned with the past. Sue me — I was a history major.
But the one thing I've recently come to enjoy is playing 'Remember When,' in which I have reconnected with a number of my old friends and regale them with tales of Las Vegas, marriage, sometimes both simultaneously.
I've never been one to keep in close contact with the people I know but with whom I don't live under the same roof. Moving to Germany at sixth grade limited contact with relatives and friends to occasional phone calls, letters and even audio tapes. But I don't blame my moving around as an Army brat for that — I am the one who rarely keeps in touch.
Heck, I bet if you ask my folks about the issue, they'll likely respond, "Chris?!? He's alive!!?!?" (Don't worry, Mom and Dad — we'll be home for Thanksgiving).
It's not for lack of a venue. No one has an excuse these days with e-mail, iPhones and whatever else you can purchase to make avoiding contact with other human beings completely impossible.
I'm even on two social networking sites (Facebook, MySpace) in addition to this blog and my phone and e-mail, but I don't think I use those sites of social networking so much as amusing myself by posting Halloween pictures and adding cool songs and photos to my profiles.
Really, the social networking aspect of those social networking sites, for me at least, is for my friends to contact me.
I've reconnected with a number of college friends recently, and I can't imagine any 10-, 20- or 30-year reunion could be as fun. The memories of what I've done recently are still quite fresh in my mind... will I remember being electrocuted in the kitchen of my townhome 10 years from now? Come to think of it, do I remember any of it right now?
I'm showing my age when I say that 2001 to 2004 were "the good ole days" — they're certainly not that bit of the Roarin' Twenties as pictured at the top of this post.
But I'm starting to realize that the years I've spent since graduating from college have been just as good (for the most part) as those spent roaming around campus for almost four years.
A recent exchange with a friend revealed to yours truly some cool moments in my life as of late: Moving to Colorado, vacationing in Vegas and the Caribbean, getting married, having Prince play my bachelor party (kinda, sorta), and discovering I'm the Best Uncle Ever.
All this said, maybe I'm waiting to reconnect with my friends until I have stories worth telling them, making sure they're entertained with the recollections of my time on this plane of existence.
So get off my back! I'll call you back someday, but right now I'm living.

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J'attaque

I've recently rekindled a favorite pastime of mine: variations of the board game known as RISK. The latest incarnation of the game I've fallen in love with is ATTACK, an online, multiplayer version available via the social networking site Facebook.com.

In the past, I've been relegated to playing against my family members, constantly trying to prove to my father that securing Australia is NOT the best strategy, or forging informal truces and alliances with and against my siblings, venturing beyond the official set of rules to trade cards for snacks and promises of chores to be done.

Just earlier today, however, I played against a quite diverse cast of characters, including a college student logging in from his laptop during lecture hall and a chap from London who took exception to my tactics. It's live, digital and capable of sufficiently trash-talking and expanding the rules ever so slightly.

And I love it.

My strategy? I've always liked forming an informal truce with the strongest player in North America while securing South America and moving into Africa and Europe from there. It doesn't always work, but it's interesting to see each permutation. It's like watching the World Series of Poker on ESPN each year. I can't count high enough to signify how many different ways I've seen someone playing Texas Hold 'Em start with Ace-King or pocket Jacks and end with some odd collection of community cards.

But there's no reason I should like Risk and similar games. Just like poker, you cannot win on skill alone. It is still very much a gamble, with each roll of the dice this becomes clearer. I suppose it makes winning that much more fun — either through sheer luck or by controlling as many variables possible, winning means world domination, if only at the board-game level.

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