I woke up in pitch black, in the basement, on the couch, my back hurting. Light was missing outside, and I could vaguely see Julie in the extreme darkness. I made my way around the mattress as she made a slight yawn. Whoo. Close. I felt drafty, but refreshed after a good night's sleep. I carefully raced up the long, slender, steep stairs, looking for a clock or phone to check the time. None on my floor, or at least one, mine, but it had the same wrong number I had seen last night: 8:40. I thought there must be something wrong with it. I went up stairs to my Mom's room, and found her phone, which I looked out and saw that it said 7:28. Julie said to wake her up whenever, but I came for a second opinion from Mom. "Wake her at 8:30." she said. I waited, and waited, and waited. I sat on a hard but relaxing couch, and heard the tick and tock of the clock. The digital clock struck 8:00. I went down stairs. And down stairs to the basement.
I was going to be interesting and put a mike in their ear and sing into the other one or something like that, but I didn't want them mad at me. And so, I nudged my sister, waking her in a boring and easy way. Oh well. I talked with her and Rebecca for a while, comparing dreams and talking about different things of that matter. Julie took a shower in the basement bathroom, got dressed, as we did the same upstairs. Mom came down to the kitchen and fixed up French Toast; I got eggs from the car just as Dad was leaving to get the people at a repair shop to fix yet another problem with the R.V. He drove it there, of course, right after I went quickly in and got the eggs from the fridge. We ate a good meal a day late. Oh well. Then Julie left for work, and I did much math in the dining room, doing a chapter review. It took an hour and a half. Rebecca's friend Kristin came over, with her father, Mr. Liquori. He later left. We saw our good care taker who lives in the WaveTree Neighborhood, Mrs. Martha Shaunessy. She and Mr. Miller did a wonderful job at keeping the house looking pretty and up to date, Martha giving us the bills and the piles of magazines. She came out of her car with filed piles in her hand of magazines, newspapers, and other things. We had about 10 times. I started to read one, about the science of favortism, saying that nearly half parent has a favorite child. Asking the truthfulness of this statement to Mom, she said she DIDN'T have a favorite. And I believe her.
"Want to go to the paint store and city hall with me?" Dad asked me.
"Sure!" I said enthusiastically. We got in the suburban again and drove around that area, seeing the seniors home, the graveyard and Jewish temple, with it's big brown flashy designs, the water tower, and, as we got closer, the paint store, close to our rented out building where a lady named Robin has an art shop. The paint store was originally a store Dad's dad(that's weird to say three times.) sold paint, and where Dad learned all the tricks of the trade. It got to be Dad's down the line, and Dean and him I believe own many more. It faces the street, has one single door and a barbed wire fence that goes back horizontally whenever we want to go in, and by the door is an old mailbox, parking places for restaurants and other buildings, a broken coke machine, and a sign saying Auto Color, in red and blue. It's warehouse shaped, with the curved roof and metal shingles. When you walk in, it's a mess. On one side is a counter with little area and behind stuff, and on the left piled up things of wood, computers, even golf clubs. We should call it a warehouse, but in the early days when I was young(still remember it) Steve and Dumbo (they called him that) would be selling and shipping paint behind a long, long counter that goes the length of the room, behind them would be shelves and shelves of auto paint for cars. This is where my Dad's career really started, where he learned his love for cars and his eye for completion and his skill in business, his strength in his muscles, his mind for math, and many other things. Today that counter with computers and such is gone, in it's place, a lot of junk. I've seen the business change from being a store to when Finish Master bought it (for a whole lot) and then made Dean and Dad sign a contract, saying they couldn't come back into the paint business until a 10 year period was over. Dad went into cars, Dean boats. Kind of sad, but I believe it was the best thing that could've happened.
Garry Duncan, a car guy who provides automobiles for movies, was helping making a movie in GA called Wettest County, about gangsters in the prohibition era who sell Moon Shine, a whiskey. Now, of course they used cars, and old, 30's cars with glass shattered, fake bullet holes, and blood. Wettest County will come out in 2012. They were done with the movie, or so they thought, and were going through the editing process. They wanted to make sure they were done with it before smashing and incinerating the cars(sad), so they hired Dad, from connections with Duncan, to keep the cars here. I remember when we took them in the barbed wire way, moved stuff around and got them all in, there were more than eleven. Little red seated ford beauties, old, wooden trucks with all kinds of old features, and, the more sophisticated blue hard topped gangster toys, with modern features put into old cars. It's so cool to have them around. I love to see things that we're in a movie, to then see the movie, recognizing the cars. That's going to be awesome. I want to be a director, and along the trail I have met some, and in Roswell there is Seth Decker (little theater), Vic Campos (does things if people want him too) and Duncan (not a director but oh well) and Larry West, who does signs in movies. He did the sign for the store the people go into in the "Blind Side" the Big and Tall one. It's kind of cool to know these people.
We went right, through little hallways between the cars, and came in front of where the floor changes into fake wood and has a green screen for pictures in the back, with all kinds of old tripods and things. By a little bathroom is a light panel, which Dad turned on. You can find ANYTHING except a talking, walking, three armed blue giraffe in the paint store, and it's amazing to see what you CAN find. Kitchen where and garden stuff is in one row, followed by whole carts full of National Geographic's from decades past. Then there's the furnace, the very large metal monster I used to be afraid of. Because of the cars, you can only go the way we went to get there, so we backtracked and I took sight of Dad's soapbox durby blue wooden car on top of the roof of the bathroom. We went down the hallway, where the huge door that opens to the little yard that has a truck and a lot of old clubs and bikes, and also saw where all of the tools are, and the wooden little staircase to the attic where a lot of old things are. By that is a fridge, some books on a shelf, and a door into the old wooden dark room, which is now a beautiful conference room, with a large wooden table and all kinds of awards and pictures and a display case with all kinds of old cameras and new cameras, with a barbie box with a barbie in it and Dad's soapbox helmet. I also love looking at all the drawers and desks where Dad's pictures and awards are. He has A LOT. We went the other way actually. I might as well described the room now. It's really nice.
We actually went into a door where on the left there is numerous metal cabinets and on the left a room with all kinds of old camera equipment(probably by now you understand my dad was also a photographer) and a long old bookshelf with many classic books, and bibles, and success books. I had asked Dad by the magazines if there was a Geographic about Shangri-La, a magical place I had read a book about. Here, on this bookshelf, was a large, bulky, index with all of the magazines in alphabetical order. I got it out, passed away from the white, creamy walled area (not a room, not enclosed) and made my way to Matt Poje's office, who is Westin's dad, who helps my dad with a website they both do called Community Bank List. They even got in the newspaper for it. I sat down opposite the desk and computer, then flipped through the pages. I got to the S's. Then the SH's. Down the line at the end of the page was a lot of numbers, and names and publishing stuff for an article about Shangri-La in 1945. Dad said he didn't have it in the store, but he had a large hard drive it was probably on. I copied all the thing said, put the piece of paper I copied it on in my pocket, and we walked down the hallway. On the left is a long room full of computers and white tables, where I have made a few evil lab lair movies. It's where Howard and many other smart people used to work in the days of the photography business, printing pictures and making frames. Right ahead is Dad's office, his computer on his desk, bookshelves and trinkets and pictures of us behind him, some mantelpieces and all kinds of different stuff, in the right front corner a picture of him with Jeff Gordon, and a sketch of the photography studio, and a sky shot of our house, with some rifles there too. I looked around to the left, where there was a desk and computer, and all around. I love that room. And I love the paint store. It, besides my house, is my FAVORITE place in Roswell. It just is.
I looked around at his shelves with new found interest, books I had seen numerous times now I had read the titles, I liked them a lot more. There was a book about how Truett Cathy made the Chick Filet into a thriving business. I had read a book like that before, about the Home Depot. I like those kind of books pretty good. I also found an old, green, hardback dusty Grimm Fairy Tales, which I'll read sometime soon. I mentioned to Dad he had so many success books, I said he could probably teach a subject about it. He asked if I wanted to read one, and he suggested one called The Four Laws to Debt Free Prosperity. It's an interesting and good story and base. He also talked about The Game of Work. We then left the paint store, with the four books. We went home, had some chili, and then left again for NorthPoint Mall. We drove into a parking spot, and walked in a good way, by a cheesecake factory. We walked in, and it looked like any normal mall, large ceiling, beautiful architecture, everything. We were going in for a problem in Mobile Me with Dad's computer and iPad, and as we entered an Apple store, he worked on that problem with a few apple employees. I tried reading the debt free prosperity, but in the first sentence or two I couldn't understand two words, "audit" and "deduction." I decided to read it to Dad aloud and ask him about it later, since now he was very busy. I messed around with those revolutionary 4S phones, also playing on an iPad, doing a program called Photo Booth, where you can do effects on your face, making you be four people or have a small face and big body, and I then got bored with it and played several games, Angry Birds and Fruit Ninja included. Then I did a cool program called Solar Walk, where you can zoom in and zoom out of all the universe, seeing different planets, their moons, and walking all around the Solar System. I then read a children's iPad version of Pinocchio, which was pretty fun. A 50 old lady asked how I liked it. I said I usually wasn't interested into this stuff, but that it was very entertaining and cool. Good, she said.
We came back and went to bed. It was a wonderful day.
Don't audit this blog! (yeah, I know what it means now.) Please don't!,
Andrew.
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