We had a stereophonic record player in a nice bench-type cabinet when I was growing up. In the ’70’s, they still used the word “stereophonic” when describing audio components to elicit ooohs and ahhhs. They spelled it out too - instead of just saying “stereo” like they do now - because it sounded more like a technological marvel back then. Nowadays, they make greeting cards with stereo sound.

Maybe someday our kids, with their 20th generation iPods, will think Dolby Digital 7.1 Surround Sound is quaint in the same way. Seriously, “digital” is my generation’s “stereophonic.”

“Ummm, Dad, did you guys really need to call everything “digital” back then? Isn’t it kind of assumed?”

Anyway, I’m playing a continuous shuffle of Christmas music on the laptop, piped in through the receiver and it occurs to me that something is missing.

I kind of miss the click of a new record dropping on the stack and that initial scratchy audio while the needle found the first track on the record. My parents didn’t really play too much on that record player save for the occasional Helen Reddy or Manilow album (I love, by the way, that the official Manilow Web site refers to itself as “The Barrynet.”). Because Christmas is when the records really came out for hours upon hours at a time, I associate the sound of records dropping on the stack and playing, with Christmas. Someone needs to churn out a little audio sample that can be interspersed in an mp3 playlist for nostalgia heads. This is kind of promising for people who use Pro Tools but it’s more for processing songs themselves.

Another thing that I recently realized is how my holiday memories are entirely limited to a certain small set of Christmas records for pretty much 20 odd years. Because these records were part of Christmas for me, I can’t really relate to people with other holiday music preferences. So my generation, in some odd way, has a certain language of Christmas albums with which to identify with others. It’s like some odd holiday loyalty to certain holiday performances.

For instance, I’m comin’ at you with a Julie Andrews/Andre Previn Christmas Treasure, Andy Williams Christmas, Time-Life Treasury (but the record set allowed you to open the case to make a popup house which kicked so much holiday ass), Alvin & The Chipmunks, kind of holiday flavor. It’s difficult for me to “get” how you even had a Christmas if one of these wasn’t on your family’s playlist. Oh sure, maybe you had “Christmas” but you didn’t have Christmas.

I’m all for progress though. I guess an iTunes crossfade between tracks is the new black so my family’s holiday tradition will be queing up 4.7 days worth of no-repeat holiday audio joy on shuffle and we’ll call it good. Deck the halls!

I haven’t been writing on this here digi-site for a while. Plenty going on in the background though.

My daughter and I recently made the move to New Hampshire to join the hot sweetness and son. We’re selling this place and getting another to start out in. We live in such a vibrant, fun, area. There is just so much to see and do but you never feel like you’re living in the middle of some bustle.

So Isabelle adores her school and especially enjoys having Alisa’s son, Keegan, there. They aren’t in the same classes but they see each other on the playground at the end of the day. Apparently, Isabelle and Keegan spend a lot of time chasing each other around then.

I can’t believe we’re getting married in St. Croix just nearly two weeks from now. I’m giddy. It’s going to be dreamy and I need the vacation. We’ve had this vision, for over a year, of what we wanted to do and it’s just hard to believe it is finally here.

I sold the old house in Maine. I’m surprised it sold so quickly. I don’t think it is remotely indicative of current trends in real estate. It was listed in an area where there are plenty of homes for sale, the town isn’t exactly desirable to the average buyer, and it needs lots of work. Nevertheless, I listed it soon after the start of August and had an offer at the start of September. The buyer wanted a quick close so I only had a month to get everything out of there. That’s not a fun thing to do by yourself. I spent a lot of time, over the summer, purging stuff that I don’t use or want. My garage was filled with items. I had a yard sale at one point over the summer but then I still had a large amount of stuff I didn’t sell. I ended up making a sizeable (a rented U-Haul van full) donation to Goodwill just last weekend.

Anyway, I’m glad to not have that place in my hands anymore. It was a house but was never a home. And for the time after Isabelle was born, nothing but the bad memories and feelings from horrible things that happened filled every room. After separating last year, it was my trap by choice. The place I wanted to be the least but knew I needed to stay in for the stability of my daughter during my divorce. Peh!

My new job is excellent. It’s challenging and fun and there are daily opportunities to grow. I love going there every day. It’s astounding how the business world is so different from something like public education. I’ve got some experience to set things in perspective if I ever find myself being unappreciative.

I guess after this big month of October, the big thing will be looking forward to the new place being built, moving in with the family, and hanging pictures on the walls. Sounds like a dream to me.

A few weeks back, I had this memory I couldn’t get out of my head. Sometime around 1983-ish, my family had this game thing that my sister and I loved to play all the time. It involved a ball and pegs and guiding the ball to where it was supposed to go. The best I could think of it was that it was some kind of pachinko machine but cheap and all plastic. I didn’t really remember what it looked like. Strangely, I asked Alisa about it and she remembers having one too.

I spent a good hour looking for information on the mystery thing I was trying to remember and finally came up with something on an Ebay search. American Pachinko. When I saw the pictures, I immediately recognized the thing.

Any information I’ve found has told me that Pressman made this thing in the early seventies. So, maybe my dad picked it up at a garage sale or the company made it into the eighties.

I would be interested to know, dear Innanet reader, just how popular these things were. If you had one too, leave a comment.

So what were we excited about with this thing? Oh, a good ol’ fashioned Americanized and stripped down version of Japanese gambling. Wheeee!

Seriously, what are you going to do with all of those mix tapes from days gone by? It’s not like you’re going to get a tape deck or cassette Walkman at some yard sale so you can listen to them again. So why are you keeping them?

And with that internal thought, I declare an official end to the cassette tape era. Oh, you thought the end of that era was 10 years ago? Nope, you were wrong. It was just now when I declared it.

Titles of mixes I threw out today with comments:

Mid-August, 11pm, 65 mph minimum, 9 to 16
A mix I made during the summer of 1995. I was working two jobs. One at Saratoga Race Track during the day and another at night at a mall. The title is lame as 65 is the speed limit. Maybe it was 55 back then on the highway and I thought I was a badass. Anyway, 73ish is a safe minimum around there now. The 9 to 16 refers to the exit numbers. I was listening to a lot of The Clash that summer so this probably has plenty of that and like Supertramp or something.

The Funky State Of New Jersey - Break ‘96
I made a lot of mixes for the vans we took to spring break for rowing in college. They each had their distinctive mood. This one was about making the girls sing along. N-Trance’s “Stayin’ Alive” cover features on here. Oh and probably Gina G with that “Ooh ahh just a little bit.” Oh man am I lame.

Summer of ‘92
Who doesn’t fondly remember the summer of ‘92? I don’t remember exactly what happened of consequence during the summer of ‘92 but I’m sure it was fantastic as I was compelled to memorialize it in TDK D90 Normal Bias form. I think there’s lots of Led Zeppelin, Beastie Boys, and Pearl Jam on here.

The Eggs At West Are Great…
This mix exists solely so that I could take some audio that I recorded off the radio and put it at the beginning and end of the mix. There was a call-in show on the college radio station that featured the director of dining services. I vaguely recall there being some campus controversy involving dining services. There’s always a meaningless scandal on any given college campus during any given month. I’ll tell you what: The people who work at a college must get tired of it. “Aieee. Here we go with the our-rights-are-being-overlooked” routine again!” Anyway, a few of us decided it would be funny if one of us called in to the show to tell the dining services guy that the eggs at this one particular dining hall, out of several facilities, were spectacular. Just the one. Not the others.

Sorry I Haven’t Written Mix
A mix from Amber dated 9-14-93. Almost thirteen years later, Amber, and I must tell you that I’ve been holding on to this grudge and it is only now that I can forgive you for not writing. Amber was apparently into some ’80’s and some classic rock around that time. Amber, I respect you for sticking to your guns on that lead-in doubleshot of Kansas on this mix. “Carry On My Wayward Son” followed by “Dust In The Wind.” I still wouldn’t pair ‘em up like that but you… you really liked Kansas just then and you really wanted to let me know.

Best of The IRDW Tapes - Fall ‘95
There were three original tapes, The Funky One, The Funkier One, and The Mellow One. This is a sampling of our favorites from all three. And really, the only two songs that mattered on that trip were “Medicine Show” (some Big Audio Dynamite) and “Six Months In A Leaky Boat.” What the hell is the IRDW? What is a road trip without an acronym? This was Ivy Rowing Discovery Weekend - a whirlwind tour of Ivy League rowing boathouses and their respective rivers where we dipped our antique oars. I still have mine in the garage.

Le High Mix - 1994
My friend Jules made this for me. I gave her a lot of heat over it for putting a song called “Knockin’ Da Boots” on there. I don’t think Jules would mind if I say that you don’t look at those lyrics and then look at a picture of Jules and think, “Yeah, that makes sense.” What’s more is the rest of the tape is like Cat Stevens and Debbie Gibson.

Canadian Getaway Ice / Hockey-Bacon Mix
Making things with graphics ripped from the Innanet was more impressive 10 years ago. I have included scans of these two case inserts below. I’ll give you a cookie if you can spot 5 obvious Canadian stereotypes between the two:

So I’m on the plane with Alisa and I’m just gazing out the window - gazing at the clouds and the land and the wide ocean and she’s got the window seat, sitting there with a book! A book! A window seat and outside, a jet engine on each side of the plane produces enough thrust to overcome tons of metal and foam seat cushions that double as floatation devices from falling into the ocean. I’m amazed that airplanes carrying hundreds of people at a time are able to take off, fly for hours, and land somewhere far away. And get this: then, they turn around and do it again the other way! And sometimes they don’t even stop the engines! How could you read a book while the human race defies what was meant to be? We’re not supposed to fly. We’re not supposed to be up there. Look at all that ocean down there. How can you not search for cruise ships? Alisa reminds me that the odds of seeing one and being in the right place in the sky to fly over one are very low. Sorry man, if I’m flying over the ocean, I’m looking for cruise ships. That’s the way it is.

Maybe that’s why I liked the SCUBA so much while on the recent vacation. We’re not supposed to breathe down there! And yet, here we are with the fish and the crabs and the things in the sand. I saw a sting ray where he lives. I’m supposed to be at an aquarium and they’re supposed to be gliding around the shallow tank for me to touch and instead, I’m 30-something feet under water and this thing is giving me the wing tilt “What’s up” as it gently glides off. That is cool.

I’m a loyal man but, for the first time in several years, I’ve switched deodorants.

My thinking has always been to not tamper with what has been working for me in that area. Recent trips to two different stores didn’t turn up my kind and I’ve taken it as a sign. I’m sure they still make Adidas Sport Fever deodorant but I couldn’t find it when I looked so I decided a switch was warranted.

I can’t bring myself to change flavors every time like some people. Alisa and I were at the store recently and, selecting from several contenders, she declared she was “feeling tropical” and just threw one in the cart. That ain’t my style. This odor will be a part of me for some 6 months. This scent will define my armpits for the upcoming spring warming and into the summer months. When people think “Druzba’s armpit,” they will think fill in scent here. That’s a lot to ask and, as such, I couldn’t live with a fickle toss in the cart.

And so I am that guy that opens each of them up to smell them. Of course, three quarters of all men’s deodorants are variations or combinations of the same three themes: Sport, Phases of Water, or Forces of Nature. Don’t believe me? See for yourself: Colgate. Old Spice. Gilette.

I’m not sure how they come up with the names when the scents are all so similar. It seems to be a fairly arbitrary naming system. “Yeah, yeah, that’s Arctic Thunder Rage and that one, that’s Forest Ice Blast!”

I’d like to see some new names in there. Here’s a few I thought up. Any deodorant company namer people should feel free to totally steal these deodorant flavor names from me without penalty:

Proposed Men’s Deodorant Scents

• Ninja Style Force
• Meat ‘N’ Potatoes Blast
• Kickin’ Corporate Ass Avalanche
• Ragin’ Appetite Attack
• Women Love Me Ultra

So, my new scent is Old Spice Pure Sport. Not to be confused with Impure Sport or just Sport. My previous flavor was called Sport Fever. That’s right. I kick armpit ass. Every swipe is like “GOAAAALLLLLLLLL!”

During your planning and seedling planting for your summer garden, consider the Druzba Tomato. I hear it’s very tasty. Just another option for getting your daily helping of Druzba.

I tend to be efficient and waste-conscious with many of my actions. “Efficiency!” is what I thought to myself this morning, with my index finger pointed to the sky, when I left my turkey sandwich on the passenger seat of my car when I got to work. It’s winter and, of course, it will naturally keep refrigerated.

Turkey on mustarded bread, a slice of Havarti with dill, and alfalfa sprouts because I like me the crunch and it’s better for you than putting potato chips in the sandwich like I did when I was a kid.

Today, I didn’t count on the blazing sun being positioned just so as to properly cook my sandwich. That was not so efficient. I don’t think Havarti is normally a melty sort of cheese.

I’ll tell you this: Havarti is not bad as a melty cheese. Alfalfa sprouts, however, do lose pizazz with heat. This is where my waste-conscious side takes over and tells me, “You are not throwing this sandwich away. You are going to eat this sandwich and you’re going to like it.” My internal voice sometimes prefers the tough love. My internal voice also sounds exactly like my mom used to when she made my sister and I sit at the table until we ate our zucchini.

I appreciate good food. Alisa and I make some excellent meals. I, however, also appreciate a 4-day-old slice of pizza. I don’t seek out the 4-day-old pizza, carefully waiting day after day as I open the fridge and tell myself, “Is it time yet? Is it ready? No! Not old enough! Only 3 days old!” Rather, if pizza just happens to be 4-days-old, I don’t have a problem with it. Sometimes, it’s better that than not eating anything.

Alisa, I believe, has some sort of logarithmic scale of taste. Something like the Richter scale but in reverse. Fresh to leftover takes a 75% drop in appetizing-potential in her world.

Look, I fully realize that 4-day-old pizza is not going to taste even 5% as good as it did when it was fresh and I’m fine with it. That’s what ketchup or barbecue sauce are for. There’s an extra 5% of original taste boost right there. Dip it and you’re up to 10% of original and that ain’t half bad. That’s double digit percents on my taste-o-meter.

I told Alisa I would follow along with the meme she borrowed from Erika so here is my list of 5 Weird Things I Do:

1. I check that the stove is off at random times.
I do this especially after using the stove but often randomly when I walk by it, even though I know I’ve already checked it before. When I’m leaving the house for an extended period, I will check it several times before. Needless to say, a stove fire caused by a burner that was left on is probably not in my future.

2. I don’t like the thought of plugs that are less that fully inserted into sockets.
Sometimes plugs can become loose in a socket. I am not comfortable leaving them like that and will go out of my way to make sure they are in. It is because of this that I unplug certain things when I go away on vacation.

3. When I come home from somewhere, I have a routine I like to follow.
I come home, take my wallet, keys, and watch out. I pick up the mail. I put stuff away that I brought into the house and take off my shoes. Sometimes I come home and have to go to the bathroom. Unless my bladder is at DEFCON 1, I’ll follow my routine regardless. Somehow, I find it rewarding if I am able to do so.

4. I fear losing my wallet and keys.
Because of this, I always check that I have my wallet and keys, by pressing my hand over where they go, when I get in the car from anywhere. I have never lost my wallet or keys.

5. I don’t trust the auto-shutoff feature of appliances.
Because of this, I always unplug things like irons, curling irons, griddles, etc.

Somewhere in the post-shower process, I manage to not spend as much drying attention on my right armpit as I do on my left. I’ll have to look into this.