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Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son

A few weeks back, in 2012, Mrs. Kharmin and her sister took me to see Iron Maiden.  They played most of their songs from their Seventh Son of a Seventh Son album.  I had seen them in concert before and enjoy most of their tunes on my iPod from time to time.  What made this experience different for me was the ability to bring cameras into the venue.

I can hardly see how concert halls and outdoor auditoriums can keep cameras out anymore, what with every mobile phone having one now.  The pictures I took with my DroidX were anything but worthy of posting here on my site.  The resolution is so small that if I were to enlarge these for any profitable purpose, potential buyers would scoff at the mere notion.

Anyway, the evening was enjoyable; Alice Cooper was the opening act.  The performances were great.  Both made use of many props — Alice, of course, was beheaded via guillotine and Maiden had multiple Eddie incarnations — and the crowd just ate it up.

They just don’t write music like this anymore.  Bands don’t rock like they used to … or in Alice’s and Maiden’s cases, still do.  They don’t create epic albums with concepts and stories that transcend generations to bring a listener to a point in time, whether it be a historical lesson of the past or some prophetic outlook granted from when the songs were penned.

You should see these acts, live,  before they’re relegated to the digital age of YouTube, for watching them on your computer can in no way compare to experiencing first-hand these bands in the venues for which much of their music was written.

© 2012, Kharmin's Small Piece of the 'Net. All rights reserved.


It Was A Dark And Stormy Night…

My writer friends will appreciate the title of this post, I’m sure.  However, literacy is not the point; rather, the insane summer thunderstorms we’ve been having in 2012.

Invariably, they arrive — unannounced — at the god-forsaken hours of the early, early morning.  How early?  2:00am.  Sometimes 3:00am.  And they range from a solid half-hour of house-rattling thunder to a several hour barrage in what it must’ve felt like during the Civil War with relentless cannon fire.

Of course, our daughter hasn’t yet managed to calm her fears.  She tells me that she isn’t afraid of the lightning and thunder, only that it’s too loud and it scares her.  Would that my fears be so simple!  What age hath wrought, no?

Still, we have a few more months of summer to go and I’m sure we’ll experience more of the same.  For me, I’ll take thunderstorms over winter blizzards any day.

© 2012, Kharmin's Small Piece of the 'Net. All rights reserved.


Kharmin is Blogging Again (As If You Hadn’t Figured That Out Yet)

Just a quick note/post to say that, yes, I am blogging from this site again with significantly more regularity. I have a certain someone to blame for this revival (and you know who you are!).

I had gotten away from posting here because Facebook, and to some extent Google+, are just easier since I don’t have to do any real formatting; however, having posted quite a bit this month I am coming to the realization that I miss the more “formalized” format of blogging on my own site. And, since I am paying to have it hosted, I should use it, right?

Anywho, I think that for the foreseeable future (wow, spell check actually accepted “foreseeable” … there’s a heckuva lot of vowels in there!) I will be primarily focused on posting here and letting the various WordPress plugins do their job of announcing new posts over on Facebook and Twitter.

So, sit back and enjoy! I know that I will.

© 2012, Kharmin's Small Piece of the 'Net. All rights reserved.


Price of a Dime

On my way in to work today, I was stuck with the local radio stations and their incessant chatter, which was only disturbed by a few songs and a disproportionate amount of sales pitches.  Buried in the cacophony of  voices was Tommy TuTone’s classic 867-5309/Jenny (the bane of those who actually held that phone number when the song hit the charts).  One of the later lines of the song is, “For the price of a dime I can always turn to you” which got me reminiscing about those days of yore when a local phone call from a public phone (booth, no less!) was only a dime.

Then, it was a quarter.  Well, 25¢ was a hike, but it made some sense in that you needed only one coin to place a call.  Convenient.  In that era, a common insult was, “Here’s a quarter; call someone who cares.”

Later, it went to 35¢.  Now, I have no idea what a local phone call from a public phone costs.  Heck, I don’t even know where a public phone is around here — everyone is using cell phones nowadays.

So, what’s the common insult now?  Instead of giving someone a quarter, is it, “Here’s a prepaid, disposable cell phone with 8 megapixel camera and GPS tracking; use it and get the hell away from me.” ?

© 2012, Kharmin's Small Piece of the 'Net. All rights reserved.


Happy Valentine’s Day

Roses are red,
Violets are blue…

Oh, who are we kidding? I’ve never been the hopeless romantic. Heck, when it comes to romance, I’m rather hopeless. No, instead I’m the comic relief in the family. Where others look for heart-throbs like, Gary Cooper, Errol Flynn, or Clark Gable, frankly my dear I don’t give a damn. Instead, with me, you get Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, and Leslie Neilsen.

How often I am told by Mrs. Kharmin that she loves me because I make her laugh, I cannot count. What I am uncertain about, however, is whether she is laughing with me or at me. Probably both; a bit more of one than the other.

During this holiday celebration, one can find the typical articles written about love found and love lost. Usually, these are followed with advice on how to keep relationships strong. We’ve never needed such as we are true partners in our marriage. It helps to be best friends, too. And through these last two decades I have found the advice that works best for me:

  • What’s hers is hers and what’s mine is hers.
  • “Yes, dear.”
  • Never go to bed angry with each other, especially when you know the she’s always right anyway.
  • Learn how to do laundry.
  • Learn how to clean dishes.
  • Learn how to vacuum.
  • Clear all gatherings with your friends with your “social coordinator” first.
  • Everyday find something, anything, to make you both laugh.

You might chuckle at a few (if not all) of the items on that list, and some of them are partly in jest. What works for us may not be what works for you — the point is, to find what does work for you and keep at it.

The final piece of advice is this: it isn’t enough to love someone; you have to be in love with someone. Without reservations. Only then will you understand how I feel on Valentine’s Day.

I love you, Mrs. Kharmin.

© 2011, Kharmin's Small Piece of the 'Net. All rights reserved.


The Bloom (or Bloob) is off the Rose

I know… many of you who follow me on Facebook were expecting my long dissertation on our latest Comcast debacle. It’s coming; it’s just a long write. In the mean time, I offer you this gem.

First, a small segue (and no, I don’t mean one of those two-wheeled sidewalk riding things that Paul Blart used–that would be a Segway).

Right. Moving on.

Several months ago my daughter wanted to show me something. She curled herself into a small ball, still on her feet with her head buried in her knees and her arms curled around her legs. “Look, Daddy, I’m a seed…,” then she stood up and thrust her arms out over her head, “…now I’m a bloom!”. In her excitement, I heard her say, “Now I’m a bloob!” This term has now worked its way into our family lexicon and describes someone who is just plain being silly. I would tease her to which she’d retort, “Oh Daddy, you’re just being a bloob.”

Ok, the main event. This week has seen another milestone in our daughter’s life: kindergarten. Day one, she was raring to go, all dressed in her new going to school dress and new tenny-runners (tennis shoes). Lunch bag and backpack clutched, she was waiting for me by the door, eyes aglow with the excitement that only a 5½ year old could have for going to school.

That evening, all manner of new things were discussed. New teachers, items in the classroom, the rules (so many to remember!) and so on. Day two was much the same.

Day three…

I wished her a good day at school, but she seemed less enthusiastic than she had been all week. So, I asked, “Don’t you like your new school?”

“Yes, I do like my new school,” she replied, “I just don’t want to go every day.”

My, my. Already the experience has lost it’s appeal–the bloom had fallen off of the rose. I hadn’t the heart to tell her that she had 13 more years to go! So, I kissed her and sent her on her way, telling her that I was sure that things would be fun and that she’d enjoy herself.

She didn’t seem adversely affected by her morning’s despair and by the time she got home everything seemed in order. We had dinner, talked about her day at school and were none the wiser about her statement earlier in the day. Has the bloom really fallen off? We think not; rather, it was just the reality of the new changes to her daily routine starting to set in.

Tomorrow, she will buy her lunch for the first time–chocolate milk and all. If that doesn’t help to turn her attitude around….

© 2010 – 2013, Kharmin's Small Piece of the 'Net. All rights reserved.


But Wait… There’s More!

Yeah, yeah, I’ve been absent for the summer and I know that many of you have just been dying for me to start posting and/or blogging again. Have faith and fear not! I will be posting once again very soon with the same fervor and wit to which you have been accustomed.

Now, where did I place my muse?

© 2010, Kharmin's Small Piece of the 'Net. All rights reserved.


Chasing Rainbows

Some insightful commentary from one of my favorite musicians, Fish, that I received in an email newsletter to which I subscribe. I felt that I had to share his thoughts as I, too, understand the feelings contained therein:

“There’s a rainbow outside my window and I wish sometimes, of a moment, I could only find the pot of gold at the end of it to solve so many existing problems and provide some sort of security for others I know.

But do I really need to as it is such a beautiful rainbow to appreciate, over such a beautiful array of hills, on such a beautiful night from such a beautiful home that I can only feel humbled by my surroundings and grateful to have a healthy and relatively peaceful life with friends and family close by. The wealth, the pot of gold, is in the ability to perceive the value of that and what is before you in all the majesty of the moment.

The crock doesn’t and has never existed and that is why only fools chase it so.”

© 2010, Kharmin's Small Piece of the 'Net. All rights reserved.