“The ramblings and grumblings of author Ad Hudler”

Ad's Customer Service Award for September, 2011
Saturday, September 24, 2011

Was in the Verizon store, getting yet another replacement phone, when I overheard a conversation between a sales clerk and a distressed young woman. She'd lost her phone while partying in downtown Nashville and was wondering if they could help find it.

I thought: Uhhhh, really? Darlin', you're joking right?

And then, the young clerk said sure, we can help, and she typed in the young woman's phone number and scrutinized something on the screen. "Hmm, here it is. Found it."

The customer walked around the counter to look at the screen ... as did a curious Ad. And there was a detailed satellite image of downtown Nashville with blinking blue dot that represented the woman's phone, still alive with heart beating.

"It looks like it's at Legends," the clerk said. "Were you at Legends?"

"Yes!"

"And it looks like it's toward the rear of the building. The bathroom, maybe?"

"Yes!"

And then this very-competent clerk called the manager, who located the phone ... in the bathroom! And formerly drunk woman and iphone were reunited.

Got to love happy endings like that.




A line from the current memoir in progress ...
Saturday, September 17, 2011

'Really, really happy with this one:

"I can't say that alcohol is a thread that runs through my life; it's been more like a rope. Ropes are thicker, stronger, more noticeable, dangerous. You can hang yourself with a rope."




I found Buddha ...
Thursday, September 15, 2011


He was hiding in the closet ... playing dress-up.




Location, location, location.
Monday, September 12, 2011

Just rented some new storage space in downtown Nashville, and I was chagrined to discover how expensive it was. Maybe next time I'll look more closely at the address before renting:


I should have asked if they have any spots left on Baltic Avenue.




Adaptation as an Art
Friday, September 9, 2011

I've always believed that when it comes to human behavior we rise up or slip down to match the collective expectations and norms of the society we live in at that time.

When we lived in Macon, Georgia, we found our manners improving (saying "Yes, Ma'am" and opening doors for people), and we found ourselves taking more time to engage in idle chat.

Conversely, after living 5 or 6 years in laid-back, informal Fort Myers, I caught my wife one day in flip-flops, going out to dinner ... and she'd messily wrapped a piece of duct tape around her injured toenail. It was just fine doing this in semi-feral Florida; she thought nothing of it.

Last night, we had dinner with new friends in Nashville. Swell people. She's from an Old Nashville family but married a Yankee! And you'd never know it. This guy is from Minnesota. And while he has the physical markings of a sturdy northern Midwesterner, his manners and speech paint him as a man from Middle Tennessee. When he was telling us about his boy-toy patch of land out in the country he said this:

"I've been re-workin' this ol' pond."

Isn't that an awesome sentence?

My friend, your Dixie Green Card has been renewed for another year.




My nomination for Inappropriate Comment of the Week
Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Overheard this, standing in line at the grocery store:

Cashier: I cooked Mexican last night.

Customer: You did?

Cashier: Yep.

Customer: I hear they squeal real loud when they start getting hot.


Astounded and intrigued, I followed him outside. Wanted to see what kind of car he drives. As a writer I always look at the details that people surround themselves with. I think they can even be more telling than what comes from their mouths.

I was expecting some sort of redneck truck. Maybe even a Rebel flag sticker or something.

No.

I was left there, standing in the parking lot with mouth open, when I saw this man unlock and climb into his ...

Prius?!?!?!

Who says tree huggers can't be racist?




Curmudgeon-at-Large: Report from Denver
Thursday, September 1, 2011

Returned to my native Colorado this past week to visit my brother and help him move into a new apartment. He lives downtown, and we spent an entire day exploring the bars and restaurants and sights. And this, my friends, is a very common sight in Denver these days:



Denver has long been called the Mile High City for its elevation, but this certainly gives new meaning to the name. Yep, in all of their infinite wisdom, Coloradoans have passed some very liberal medical marijuana laws. And guess what? Suddenly, everyone seems to have a medical condition that requires legal marijuana! I hear it's very therapeutic not only for anxiety but also ingrown toenails, broken arms, and razor burn.

I guess it shouldn't surprise me much. Boulder, after all, is just up the road. And urban Colorado is filled with young people who spend more money on their bicycles than their houses. And isn't it nice to see all those old gas stations getting a new life?

Legal marijuana? Really? Haven't we dumbed down the culture enough already?