Hot Town, Summer In The CityAh, now this feels like Summer! It's a blazing 92°F in the shade here in Livermore today (Saturday). My yard is an brittle yellow wasteland of dead weeds, because I haven't watered it, but now that the weeds are toast, I can put down fertilizer and weed-control and plant grass and start watering -- I hope. I hope I haven't incinerated any of the roses or other flowering plants with my harsh, scorched-earth tactics. I do think I should get the advice of someone good with plants to put this yard into shape, but right now, I've just been playing it by ear. Anyway, the heat is finally here. I love it, I absolutely love it, when the weather gets like this, but if it stays this hot, I am going to go check out The Village at a matinee tomorrow, on the recommendation of soccer_mom56, The Hollywood Guru. It's either that, or make a break for the beach, even though I was thinking of saving that excursion for the next time my daughters are here. Gads, I do love summer. It's my favorite season. I'd love to live somewhere tropical and near the ocean, like the South Pacific. In those changeless, warm sunny days, you can get a sense that life is forever, that you're immortal. Nevertheless, here in Northern California, it's plenty warm today. I have a bet on with myself concerning a friend of mine and this warm weather, but I'm not going to say exactly what it is, in case this person reads what I've written and it will jinx the bet.
Sunday Came and Trashed Me Out AgainWow, it's nice and "roasty" here again today. It's probably not the best day to work in the yard, even though I probably should. I've got a bit of a skull-pain today, mostly in the back of my neck. I think some of it may be due to dehydration. Oops. Sometimes I forget that I need plenty of water when I get distracted working on this infernal machine. Well, I decided against the movies or a trip to the coast. I'm going next weekend, with my daughters, if they don't change their minds about coming down, without them if they do change their minds. I decided to get a little work done today. I've got a couple of loads of laundry to do, some bulb replacement to do in the garage, some LJ posting and friendly e-mails to ship out, and of course, McGuffin work, which never ends.
Robert has been off camping since Thursday, and Tom and I have been discussing the company, such as it is. We have decided that there are two possible courses which look feasible right now, but that Robert isn't aware of them. So, I volunteered to spell it out for Robert and see if we can get him to make some more moves on getting the company off the ground. It will do us no good to have a working prototype if the company doesn't exist to capitalize on the development. We have yet to hear back from the patent lawyer.
Ants MarchingSince the end of July, my kitchen, nay, my house, has been entirely ant-free! Ha ha! Robert: 2, Ants: 0. Boo-yeah! This of course includes other bugs as well. I haven't seen an earwig for a long time, and they were something of a problem when I first moved in. The ants were the worst though. During the height of the invasion, I opened a box of Dole raisins and I thought I smelled something a tad "off" about them, so I set the box down for a minute to decide if I really wanted some of these. I finally reasoned that I could figure no way for raisins to go "sour" or anything, at least not in the short period of time that I had had these, and so I picked the box back up, scooped up a handful and popped them in my mouth. At this point, since the raisins didn't really taste all that horrid, although they did taste a tad "funny" I thought I'd give the box another sniff just to see if they really were going bad somehow. Upon looking into the box, I discovered that the ants had found the raisins and the box was full of them. I was smelling formalin (a kind of aldehyde chemical secreted by ants to mark trails to food) coming from the box, and I not only had a mouthful of raisins, I had a mouth full of ants! I ran to the sink and hawked the mouthful of nastiness into the garbage disposal, very nearly followed by the contents of my stomach for last 62 meals, but somehow I managed to keep my gorge down! Have I mentioned that I hate bugs? Okay, at least I hate them in my house. Actually, they're pretty cool, in the wild.
Sex and Hope and Dirty Dreams Are Still Surviving On the StreetsI've been having really vivid, kinky sex dreams for the past two weeks now, infrequently. It started with one two Fridays ago. It was another of those weird, lucid dreams. In fact, it was a dirty, kinky, wonderful one of those dreams -- heh heh, a lurid lucid dream. Unfortunately, my alarm clock sounded before I had the opportunity to regret a mess. I have a habit of waking up before I spew -- most unbecumming. I've never in my life, even as a teenager, messed my sheets with jiz... well, at least not while unconscious. My anatomy was so swollen I felt sorry for it and gave it euthanasia in the shower by beating it to death. I was contemplating writing out some of these dreams in here, they have been so damned good, but I thought better of it. Even if I make private entries, I haven't written porn since I was in college, however much the temptation may taunt me from time to time. I just don't know if I want to do that again. It messes with my head and my emotional equilibrium.
I used to write (and draw) porn all the time. Occasionally, you get to thinking about things, and fantasizing, and it's fun to write it down and read it later, and see if it can still turn you on, or if it was something fleeting which is arousing only while you're daydreaming it. I remember some of the raunchy chats I used to have. I don't know what possessed me to ever start "cybering" when I was in school. In those days, the late eighties, I was "cybering" before cybering even had the name (back in the prehistoric time when the internet was all government and universities). I don't do it anymore -- it's just so damned personal to me. Sometimes I wonder whatever became of the two ladies who enjoyed the other end of those conversations with me. We had online friendly conversations too -- it wasn't all just cybering -- which is what was problematical. I got entangled in things I knew were unrealistically unworkable. I wonder if they came to feel the same way about playing games like that? Certainly the torrid prose and emotional declarations were not unidirectional. At any rate, I didn't come to that way of thinking until after I had graduated, but I ended up getting really sweet on people I'd never have a chance to meet. Sometimes I think it would be interesting to ask them what impressions, if any, did they take away from our lascivious interactions, but I fell out of touch with each of them years ago. Heh heh, life does get complicated.
Year of the CatMy neighbor, Bagheera, the cat, stopped by about two weeks ago. I whipped up another expensive cat breakfast of American cheese and slice of deli-ham, because I didn't stop at the store and get some cat food and a dish the last time I had resolved to do so. Bagheera was hunting, as usual, when I saw her. I have these rose-trellis things with honeysuckle (I think) growing on them, outside near the back wall of my house. She jumped up onto one of these and began messing around before I came out with the ham for her. She looked awfully interested in something down in the honeysuckle and I didn't think anything about it so I went back in and started doing the dishes. After a couple of minutes, I noticed that she was still up in the honeysuckle, so I thought I'd go outside again and attempt to coax her down to eat the stuff I had put out for her. When I went out there, I saw her pounce into the foliage and pull out something that tried to get away from her. Thinking to avoid another rotting bird carcass, I went over to see if I couldn't distract her. At that point, she dropped what she had caught and it ran down into the honeysuckle to get away from her. It wasn't a bird; it was a mouse. Oh well, now that's different. Mice can be rather problematical. I could see its tail sticking out of the honeysuckle, so I went and got a stick and flushed him out of the thick growth, and told her, "Go get him." Bagheera took off after the critter.
It's obvious that Bagheera's mother never taught her to hunt. A cat who knows how to hunt will bite it's prey in the back of the neck in such a way that the sharp canine teeth slide in between the neck vertebrae and sever the spinal cord. Cats are usually taught this maneuver by their mothers, just after weaning. If they don't get this lesson, they will be weak hunters until they either figure it out for themselves, find someone who will give them dinner out of a can, or starve. Bagheera hasn't learned it yet. She caught the mouse about six or seven times, and had it in her jaws a couple of times but kept dropping it and it would run a dozen feet or so before she ran it down again. By the time I had gone back inside the house, she had pursued the mouse into the neighbor's yard.
That Saturday, when my daughters visited, I discovered that my neighbor, Bagheera has an owner. According to my children, who have spoken with the neighbors who live behind me, Bagheera's name is Sailor, and she belongs to them. Ah well. It's good that someone is taking care of her. I'm gone for too much of the day to look after a pet. It was kind of a neat idea though, it's been too long since I've had a cat. My mother called the last cat I owned my familiar, because she was black with yellow eyes and she loved to hang out with me -- we were inseparable. That was when I was still living with my parents (it's been that long).
Cheeseburger In ParadiseSeveral of my California friends have spoken highly of In and Out Burger but I've never felt inclined to try it. When I picked Jackie and Shannon up two Fridays ago, Jackie immediately suggested dinner at In and Out Burger. Her friend Sarah is absolutely hooked on this place, and after staying over at Sarah's for a week Jackie tried it too and liked it. Okay, I guess the time had come to try it. The place was hopping when we got there. There was some kind of sports team (baseball, I believe) celebrating a victory or something in there. There was one of those giant stretch limos parked in the parking lot. These things are around every corner here in California. When I lived in Ohio, I never even saw one on the road until I moved to Westlake near Cleveland. Even then, they were scarce. I don't know what that was all about.
So we went inside. This place rocks. I fell in love with it. In and Out Burger is the last of the ancient fast food joints that still realize that they are in business to produce fast food, not "nourishing meals." Oh, it was great. It was a big old genuine greasy spoon but with modern accoutrements! I got a big cheese burger with ketchup, mustard, pickle and onion on it and I didn't have to tell them five times what else not to put on it! I got an order of fries that came in a cardboard "basket." It was huge, and the fries tasted like potatoes fried in animal lard! I drowned them in the delicious ambrosia called ketchup. Yum! Damn, it was good. I could feel my arteries harden as I ate. I should have tried this place years earlier! I've lived out here since 1996 and never been to In and Out until now. I feel so deprived. I can't wait to go back. That was damned good fast food -- they've displaced Carl's Jr. as my favorite burger joint! Great Hopping Hod, but I love this state.
AfterimageI don't know what has happened to Crystal. She doesn't look healthy. I was shocked to see her. The last two times I have been to pick up the kids she has appeared to have gained weight each time. Now, Crystal has never been what one would call svelte, but she is really starting to look unhealthy now. The kids say that she cooks a lot less meat these days, thanks to various vegetarians around her and this silly diet book that makes diet recommendations based upon blood type. Cripes though, I thought the thing vegetarians had to worry about was getting too thin! I don't know what's wrong. She has thyroid problems and is flirting with adult-onset diabetes and other health problems and I can't figure it out -- the girls say that she hasn't been to the doctor for anything, and I'm sure she would if her thyroid hormones were off again, but damn, what is it? She used to put so much work into being healthy, and it's like she's just let herself go. From what the kids describe, it doesn't sound like the woman is happy. It sounds like she's cranky and irritable and stressed lately. She cut her hair off really short, she said because she wasn't satisfied with the job the stylist did when she had it cut the last time. I don't know, I just think it looks bad. What in the heck is the deal? I thought that when you leave someone for somebody you claim is better for you, life is supposed to get better, isn't it? Hell, I figured that if she had decided that I wasn't her cup of tea, that at least when she left she'd bloom or something. It had been her contention that much of her grief was in the effort involved in trying to make our relationship work and that if she had someone who matched her better than I did then life would be much rosier for her. What the hell?
Why in the hell is it my worry? Why should I give a damn when she's the one who dumped me? Nevertheless, I do, and I feel like a chump when I do, because I'm also pissed off at her for what she did in the divorce mess, which still isn't done being wrangled out. This has become idiocy on stilts. The fact is that it does bother me. The fact is, she's the mother of my children. The fact is that I've got a box of our old letters to each other stuffed away in my house and I still remember the woman who wrote such wonderful letters to me. I didn't want the crap to come down on her -- that's one reason I didn't contest this divorce and she got such a ridiculous settlement in the first place. Hell, I can't say anything, or even notice -- her feelings would be hurt, and she'd assume that I was taking malicious glee or something from her situation. Oh well, at least she has gone back to school -- again. Perhaps when she gets her degree, things will start looking better for her. That's one of the things she's always wanted, and once she finishes her degree, she won't have the stresses of going to classes and taking tests on her. Maybe she just needs time to get herself together. I sometimes wonder if she has any idea of what it would really take to make her happy. By her own admission, she says that she didn't even know what love was until she was thirty-four. Of course, that's a wonderful time to decide that the husband to whom you've been married for several years isn't it for you. At any rate, what's done is done. It really isn't my problem any more, but that makes it no more fun to watch. Feh! You can't save people from themselves. There's a lesson I learned much too late in life to suit me.
I'm Turning Japanese, I think I'm Turning Japanese, I Really Think SoMy Japanese name is 長谷川 Hasegawa (long valley river) 雄大 Masahiro (big hero).
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