MIXBAG OF MUSINGS

Well, it wasn't easy. But I managed to race to daycare after work, haul Christina off to the hair salon for a quick haircut, run home to take out the dogs, feed us, bathe Christina and dress her up, drive out to the mall through holiday traffic, park a mile away from where we needed to be, and stand in line for 45 minutes to get her picture taken with Santa. Pheeew! In the end I was happiest with these three pictures I took of her myself with my digital camera. I posted the $24 portrait they sold me on my photolog, accessible through the sidebar. Merry Christmas, everybody!!! I'm thinking Audrey Hepburn when she was five? Asking Santa for...everything!!! Gotta love this guy!!!

Click here for mood music Three years before I saw the outside of my mother's belly, my parents were busily taking dozens of pictures of my oldest sister. I've seen the albums and the stacks of loose photos that never got sorted out, browning away in old shoeboxes. A year later, my brother came around and they took several pictures of him too. Very photogenic kids they were. There's a ton of pictures to prove it. Me, I was the third one. They were obviously burnt out on the whole photo thing by then, because I only recall seeing one baby picture of myself. Oh well. They had their hands full at that point, so who can blame them. But then five years later, when all the kids were already out of their diapers and pretty much fending for themselves, my youngest sister was born. A beautiful little girl who's look was in itself a natural portrait pose. For her, my Dad went so far as to actually purchasing a photograph developing and printing machine. There were hundred

Click here for mood music I met my lawyer yesterday. A lovely woman. Made me think, why couldn't I have married a lawyer, instead of a waitress? What was I thinking? Of course, the smartass answer comes shooting right back at me: because when you divorced her she'd beat the shit out of you in court! Anyway, we spoke at length about my situation (over an hour), and she cleared up some things for me. Primarily, and this is the most disturbing part, she made it seem as though I'm doing it all wrong. I'm falling behind, letting Cindy get away with too many things, endangering my daughter's wellbeing, and risking losing it all. Scare tactics. Obviously, she wants to sell me her services. What better way to have me sign up than to make me believe I'm sinking in an ever deepening pit. But it's not that simple. If I had the kind of money she's asking for just sitting around, I'd hand it over to her and proceed with the court filing. I don't

Before After

Click here for mood music Autumn colors, everywhere. They splatter the backgrounds, exploding in furious blasts of tone and hue, warming the coldest hearts. I've felt their warmth before, when in the shoddy cradle of my lonesome youth I sought solace in such things as nature. The thundering beauty of a fall sunset. Magnified by an ample horizon, clear and vast, and lousy with gentle clouds. Trying to block out a body so strong and powerful as the sun, in vain, hopelessly futile jabs at immensity. Only when the sun sinks down into the swamp land, becoming one with the Everglades, does she truly disappear. The trees don't lose their leaves, not like they do in other places. Oh, many make their way to the ground and clutter our storm drains. But our trees remain remarkably full and alive. Disappointing at times. I crave the full cycle. The impacting change of season with its merciless swings in temperature. Cold, heat, the in betweens. We bookmark our moods by the

Just so you know that I still retain a sense of humor. I got these tips via email this morning and thought I'd pass them along. They might come in handy! Ten Best Things to Say if you Get Caught Sleeping at Your Desk 10. "They told me at the Blood Bank this might happen." 9. "This is just a 15 minute power nap they raved about in the time management course you sent me too." 8. "Whew! Guess I left the top off the Whiteout. You probably got here just in time." 7. "I wasn't sleeping! I was meditating on the mission statement and envisioning a new business strategy." 6. "I was testing my keyboard for drool resistance." 5. "I was doing a highly specific Yoga exercise to relieve work-related stress. Are you discriminatory toward people who practice Yoga?" 4. "Darn! Why did you interrupt me? I had almost figured out how to handle that big accounting problem." 3. "Did you ever no

I took the plunge. I'm meeting an attorney next week. A family law specialist. I just want to make sure I know the proper steps that need to be taken, and what hopes I have toward securing full custody of my daughter and my personal belongings. I have to admit I feel a little dishonest doing this; a little disloyal. To this moment Cindy has shown no inclination toward asking for custody of Christina for herself nor keeping the house. But I realize this could change overnight, especially since she's receiving infinitely wise counsel from all her divorced friends and newly acquired boyfriend (yes, a quick mover, isn't she?). So next Tuesday afternoon I find out what my cards are. It's going to be a long week...

Click here for mood music We went in to the office for a couple of hours - Christina labored away on her coloring book and I tried to get some work done - then drove home, put the ham in the oven (my first ham, y'all!), brought down several dozen boxes of Christmas decorations and plenty of cobwebs from the attic, and took the dogs for a holiday walk around the neighborhood. It was a lovely day in South Florida! The ham was delicious, the wine was fine, and the company was superb! The football wasn't too bad either. Before we dug into the food, we went around the table (both of us) and spoke aloud about the things we were grateful for. Christina finalized that portion of the afternoon with a moving remark that went, "And I'm thankful for my dear Daddy, who's pretty, and who I love so, so much!!!" It brought tears to my eyes. After lunch we hung the outdoor lights, then came inside and put our Christmas tree together. It looks terrific! Later there

It always seems like I'm in the wrong business. I don't recall a single job I've had, where I was off for a holiday weekend. Had lunch with a friend of mine today. He's taking off with his girlfriend tomorrow evening, driving out to Orlando where he'll stay until Sunday at another friend's timeshare resort. How do all these people get so much time off? I'm going to be coming in on Thanksgiving, at least half a day, if things go well. I'll have my daughter with me. No day care service on Thanksgiving Day. No big deal really, we don't have any plans. We usually had everybody over to our house, but this year things are different. My sister's out of town, but I'm still puzzled that we didn't get any invitations from anyone. Not that I feel like going anywhere, but it would have been nice to be asked. I'm planning on buying a ham and putting up our Christmas decorations. Christina's been driving me crazy to do that, so she

Click here for mood music I get up earlier every morning now, trying to pack more activities into each day. There's more to do, and I've only myself to get it done. Once showered, I begin to wake my daughter up. I turn on the TV and put on cartoons, trying to get her attention. I shave. I wake her up again. It's a slow process. She can't understand why she has to get up and get dressed before sunrise. It may as well be the middle of the night. I get dressed and nag at Christina to put her clothes on. We pick her clothes out the day before, because she's so damn picky. Even so, she takes forever. Meanwhile, I let the dogs out. I set up Fluke's kennel cage, clean it up a little and add fresh food and water. I ended up buying the cage two weeks ago, when he ate half my couch after we were gone for only three hours. It's too hot to leave him outside. The cage has worked wonders. He even walks in voluntarily when I call him over. It's n

Don't unreasonable clients drive you crazy? I've got this one client who blames everything that goes wrong with the world on us. She is convinced that we are somehow responsible for every agency, airline, terminal, government official, trucking company and natural disaster that has any form of contact with her cargo at any given time. It drives me nuts! We control her freight once it's here. Other than that, we've got nothing to do with it! But if for some reason, her agent in South America neglected to advise her that the shipment was delayed, or the airline it was flying on carelessly bumped her boxes off the booked flight, she expects that we (not the South American agency, and not the airline) inform her that there will be a delay. Give me a damn break! When there's a hurricane approaching, she expects us to keep her informed of its progress. Not the National Hurricane Center, no, that would be too simple, we've got to keep her informed. Why, w

Now that my title is back up, I'd like to thank Mia and the folks down at Ciao! My Bella! for the wonderful new design on my blog. It's nice that somebody takes pity on those of us who are HTML challenged! And I can't begin to express enough appreciation for all the kind comments and emails I've received since my wife and I broke up. I never thought the blogging community could be so warm and caring. You've all been there for me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It's made all the difference in the world. :-)

You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna knock off twenty pounds, buy a treadmill, eat better, feel better, and find myself a new woman! Hell, I've given myself for so long to the same person that I'm not sure how I'm going to go about it. But they're there, they're out there...I'm sure if I open up my eyes a little and stare through the mist, I can find somebody pleasant enough. There's no reason why I should waste away in loneliness because my marriage went down the drain. Is there? I mean, obviously it's not that simple, I have my daughter to think of. But shouldn't I have more? Don't I deserve more? It comes down to confidence in the end. After a failed relationship, I can't help but feel undeserving of love and affection. Not entirely, no, I don't think I'm that awful. But I do have the nagging sensation that no matter what happens, if I get into another relationship, I'm going to fail again. Maybe it's because f

Life is hard enough without these bastards lurking in the shadows. I have nothing but admiration and appreciation for law enforcement. Theirs is a thankless job that requires them to put their lives at risk daily, just to keep law and order. But those motor cops that sneak around barricades, hiding with a radar gun in their hands at carefully chosen spots where poor inadvertent drivers unwittingly exceed the speed limit - because it's always in a stretch where the posted speed limit is far below what it need be -I say OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!!! While I'm driving, daily, I hold in my road rage and fight hard to keep myself from going postal on other drivers. These are the people who completely ignore yield and stop signs, right of way, left and right turn only lanes, double yellow lines, slow-traffic-keep-right PLEASE!, and are an endless source of frustration and aggravation. They cut into lines, delay the people who are patiently waiting their turn to cross, and often f

To prove that I haven't lost all my sense of humor, here's a little something I received via email. Sorry, I don't know who to give credit for it. But it's too damn cute to pass up. The election is over, the results are now known. The will of the people has clearly been shown. We should show by our thoughts and our words and our deeds That unity is just what our country now needs. Let's all get together. Let bitterness pass. I'll hug your elephant. You kiss my ass.

Well, ain't life a bitch. On Sunday my wife moved out. I've got a million things to sort out right now, like daycare and such (my daughter's staying with me). It's all probably for the best, but I'm still looking at some emotional trauma in the coming weeks. I know I'm not that strong. Not sure if I'll be blogging much these days. Thanks for coming by.

Click here for mood music She proposed to me before I proposed to her. Kind of. We were trying to get her dad to co-sign my new electricity account, so I wouldn't have to put down a deposit. He was justifiably reluctant. "Honey, I don't think so," he told her. "Next month you guys break up and I'm left as a cosigner for some guy you used to date." "Dad," she told me she'd said, "I'm probably going to marry this guy." Well, this sort of put the brakes on her story. Marriage was not a subject we had addressed. Suddenly Cindy felt embarrassed. This was an obvious indiscretion. I fell silent and looked away, unwilling to fall for the bait. "Hey, I'm not trying to pressure you into anything," she said, "that wasn't my intention. It's just that I think we have something real here, don't you?" I fidgeted, stalled. "Sure, it's real, but lets not jump into anything here

Click here for mood music I stumbled upon her picture recently, going through an old shoebox. It's faded now, and slightly yellowed. The years have passed and taken our luster with them. Her letters seem quaint now, and disjointed. Like they'd been written to somebody else. It had to be somebody else, because there's no way I could've done the things I remember doing back then. We were freshmen in high school then; we shared a class. Clara was her name. Alex, who was both her boyfriend and a buddy of mine, changed schools halfway through the year and left her as prey to hungry wolves. It's not that there weren't other pretty girls around, there were. But we always tend to covet our neighbor's wives, you know. There is something particularly enticing about romancing a woman whom you've secretly yearned for in the shadows. Clara was very attractive. She had a shapely figure, for a fifteen year old, and she walked like a woman; long,

We're going all the way this year, baby!!! I've been waiting for this to come around for awhile. It's just what I needed to put that other silly contest to rest. Go Heat!!!

Well, I actually broke my vow (no politics on my blog) and wrote an extra long rant on the election. But when I hit publish, Blogger ate it up and now there's nothing left. It's just as well. I imagine some people might consider it offensive. Particularly since at some point I referred to the incumbent as a steaming pile of human excrement. But we'll survive. Hopefully there will be clear skies ahead and we can remove this ubiquitous election from our midst. Surely there must be more to write about. I hope all you republicans get what you hoped for. I can only expect you hoped for something good, or at least better than the last four years. I don't think we could handle another four years of the same.

Princess Christina

Didn't mean to disappear like that. Thanks for all your kind wishes and inquiries! As some of you may know, I had my parents over last week when I took some time off to get some home projects done. Well, they were staying in my spare room, which ordinarily doubles as my computer room. So there weren't any opportunities to blog or answer my email, even if I'd had the time. I've got lots to blog about, but I'll have to start tomorrow. Right now I'm still swamped with tons of backed up crap at work, and, well, though I'd rather be blogging, you can imagine which activity actually pays the bills! So, I'll be posting soon, with pictures and all. By the way, yesterday was my eleventh wedding anniversary, and I wanted to post something about that. I think I'll post one or two of our wedding pics.

Daddy, can I get a kiss? Hey! What about me???

Even though I've vowed to keep politics off this blog, I have to admit this is kinda cute! Diebold voting machine Ps. You can open this with Windows Media Player

I mentioned a few days ago that I was doing some projects at my house next week. My good friend Edgar (we went to junior high together), who's a project manager for a construction outfit, invited me over to one of their sites so I could pick up a few donations. They're building a fire station. He put together a makeshift desk out of some boxes and a spare door and placed it in one of the finished areas. An architect by vocation, he pulled out a paper pad and a pencil and stood across the desk from me. "So, what are the projects?" he asked. "I'm laying down a slab of concrete in the back yard. I'm putting in a new shed." He drew the square slab on his paper. Wrote down the measurements, and calculated the area. "You'll need four 2x4's, to place around it. Number 4 rebars to keep them in place. Two headed nails to hold the boards together, a wire net to pour the concrete on. Do you have a sheet of plywood to mix the concre

Click here for mood music My friends signed me up for it a month before it happened. It was an interschollastic talent show, and it would take place in one of the city's largest theatres. More than a thousand people were expected to attend. It fell on a Sunday. Mother's Day Sunday. I was seventeen, and flat broke. I promised my mother a trophy, weeks before it happened. That would be my present to her. But as luck would have it, I caught a bad cold days before the event. By that weekend my throat was shredded. I could barely speak - everything came out in guttural bursts, fighting through the phlegm. I was entered in the soloist category. Nobody up on stage except me and my guitar. It was potentially disastrous! I went to bed early on Saturday, with a bit of an ear ache. Took a few shots of firewater before hitting the sack. I decided to postpone any final decision until the following morning. When I woke up, the house was filled with the smell of pancakes and b

Off to the Heat game! We got Shaq, baby, we got Shaq!!!

Work weekend. Not much time to get any housework done. I had to mow the lawn between games. I'm taking next week off to get some home projects done. My dad's flying in to help me out. I've got a two page list of stuff waiting for him. Poor guy! I have to try to get the supplies this week before he arrives. We'll be too busy laying down concrete and putting in new drywall to spend too much time shopping at Home Depot. Anyway, I am accepting any and all shows of sympathy for the apparent demise of my beloved Dolphins. Whatever your hometeam woes may be, trust me, they don't compare. I am in mourning!

Christina with Aladdin & Jasmine Click here for mood music A couple of weeks ago I bought the newly released DVD version of Disney's Aladdin for my daughter. She's since seen it several times, but I hadn't a chance to view it with her until last night. I'd only seen the original release in theatres years ago when I took my nephew. Quite a good show, as I recalled. Either way, after T-ball last night, we had some dinner, got in our PJ's, brushed our teeth, read a story, then snuggled up together in bed to watch Aladdin. There's a scene in the opening fifteen minutes (true to form, I fell asleep half an hour into the film!) in which a prince calls Aladdin insignificant and worthless. Afterwards our hero is visibly upset and somewhat depressed. As is her manner, my daughter went right ahead and explained these matters to me. She said the following: "He tried to tell him he's nobody, but he thinks he's someone." I stared

Oh, how wonderful it was to be young and stupid! However did we survive? I've been in so many car wrecks that even the wildest among you would probably gasp if I threw out a number, while vigorously shaking your head in disgust and boring through me with stern, cold eyes. Truth be told, I stole my sister's car when I was sixteen, and wrecked it. My father told me then never to bother asking him for his car keys. And I didn't. I would steal my mother's car occasionally, but never my Dad's. I hit her car against a whole bunch of stuff too, but I never totaled it. The next thing I drove was a tank. Yup. The US government grabbed a snot nosed kid who's entire driving experience was limited to racing and wrecking stolen cars and put him behind the wheel of a sixty ton M1 Abrams tank. The most important thing a person needs to know about driving a car with a manual transmission, is that all traction is lost when you put your foot on the clutch. I lear

So, take my daughter out to see Shark Tale, buy her popcorn, candy and a soda, or stay in, catch the game and debate on TV, try to ignore her endless pleas for attention, and feed her a tuna casserole with a glass of milk? I think my mind was made up before I phrased the question, actually...

Sally's curly hair was tied back, but loosely. You could see blue and green highlights on the front, where her locks played weightlessly on both sides of her face. She always messed up her hair when she was painting, pushing it back out of her eyes with her messy hands. You'd think she was finger painting, the way her hands looked. Her study was a colorful splash of work, with a multitude of canvas strewn together across the side walls, flanked by plastic covers and broken down easels piled up in a corner. Palettes of dried oils lay randomly on the floor, meshing with the thin, dirty carpet. And the sketches. Dozens of sketches were scattered about, waiting for completion. She stared at us blankly for a moment and went back to her painting. Walter took me by the arm and guided me behind her. She was painting a field. An open field, in a prairie somewhere. There were trees and bushes, but it was mostly just open field with its contours. "Sally, it's Mick,"

Click here for mood music It happened. I had silently hoped, when I posted my AKA on my Blogger profile, that if any of my long lost pals from other lands and other times should google me, they would find my blog. And indeed somebody has. Friends I haven't seen in nearly twenty years, and with whom I shared the kind of experiences that stay with you for life, have found me on the other side of the planet. I cannot convey the joy I've felt in hearing from them, and learning of their lives, and in exchanging pictures of our children. Our lives go in so many different directions. Those we've known and shared our hearts with keep a special place in our memories. I'll never forget the people I've loved, no matter what I do or where I go. Reconnecting after so long is a happy continuation to an old relationship. Never stop looking for old friends. You'll never make friends like them again.

Well, I finally caved in and installed Haloscan on my blog. But only after I copied all the comments I had here before, and saved them on my hard drive. I hope this makes things easier...

They were being ushered out, to the tune of "Happy Trails" and the glare of bright lights. No more last calls, and no more finishing up. "Let's go, everybody. It's time to go home," the bouncer urged. Tom was still shooting the shit with a couple of buddies, as they put their darts up in their cases. He saw her then, a beautiful woman. Long blonde hair, and immaculate face. Didn't think twice about her though, he just went about his business. As the exiting crowd was funneled toward the front door and everybody got closer to each other, he locked eyes with her. He could see her now, clearly. "Janey," he thought. "It's Janey." Then they looked away uncomfortably. They worked their way out to the wet sidewalk, greeted by the cold, dark night, still divided into the same groups. "Can I tell you something?" Richard was asking Janey, obviously drunk off his ass and getting his face in hers, "I don't me

So my daughter knocks, then opens the bathroom door while I'm sitting on my throne, nose burried in "The shipping news." She pokes her head in and says, "Daddy?" "Mmhhmm?" I grunt. Showing me our digital camera in her little hands, she innocently asks, "Can I take your picture?" My reaction wouldn't earn me any 'Father of the Year' awards. I'm gonna start locking that damn door!

I need a new wallet. And I want a money clip. Never had one before, but lately I've thought I'd like to. The thing is, those are never the kind of things you buy for yourself. Are they? Somebody usually gives you those items for your Birthday, or Valentine's Day, Christmas, Father's day, etc. You drop the hints that you need such and such a thing, and poof! It appears. Nicely wrapped and with a red bow on it. I know I'm always listening for (usually very unsubtle) hints as to what my wife and daughter need or want. She wants perfume? A new purse? She's got it! The Lion King? A game called Elefun? No problem! But do I get the same consideration in return? Nooooooooo... I can pull out what's left of my wallet, to her total disgust, and she'll say: "Mick, you need a new wallet!" And I'll just smile sheepishly and say, "Well, there you go. Father's Day is coming up." She'll smirk knowingly and whisper conspiratorially wi

My little slugger! Yellow uniforms this time around, folks. Doesn't she look cute? You should see her out on the field, running after every loose ball. When the ball goes past her or runs through her legs, she can't always hold back the tears. I'll stand there looking perplexed, hands on my hips, doing my best Tom Hanks impersonation, "Are you crying?" disbelieving, shaking my head indignantly, "There's no crying in baseball..." looking around at the other faces for support, "There's no crying in baseball!!!" She'll either break into a smile or run over to me and hug my leg, desperate for a little sympathy. It's gonna be a long, wonderful season!

Click here for mood music We gazed out into the open, looking at nothing in particular. Though the snow had melted, the cold air was still icy. I was wearing about five layers of clothing and I was still freezing. Johnny crushed his smoke out and put his gloves back on, over the liners. "Let's get going," he said. We'd mounted the tanks on the train earlier. It took careful maneuvering. There were barely two feet of steel on either side of the narrow bed to play with. One false move and you'd have sixty tons of armor falling over the side of the train. "Alright," I said, bouncing on my toes for feeling. "Be glad to get this shit over with." We climbed up on the flat bed and started dragging the chain hoists and heavy duty chains off the rear hull of the tank. My fingers felt like brittle, cold and raw from the cold and the friction with steel, heavily clothed though they were. "Let's latch it up, Mick," J

I can't blog! Every single attempt, however slight, to post something has been interrupted by some inconvenient, urgent, can-not-wait issue that requires my immediate attention!! AAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My work is interfering with my blogging! I'll be back when time permits...

Click here for mood music There are many pages to the book of my life. Some that I am proud of, others that I would change. But there are no regrets and I bravely claim every move I've made as my own. Though I was born in the U.S., I grew up in a major South American city, surrounded by poverty and the deep rooted classism that emerges in people's subconsciousness when surrounded by an utter lack of upward mobility in most non-professional jobs. Those who were born underprivileged stayed that way, and passed it on to their children. The only realistic expectations the country places on the public school system is to teach the poor to read, write and add. Those poor, deprived children (not because they don't have Gameboys or Air Jordans, but because they live on dirt floors and sleep on rush mats) will grow up with the modest hope of finding labor in the cities, migrating from the fields and countryside in search of better possibilities that never materialize.

Click here for mood music I'm in a state of panic. I'm coaching my daughter's Peewee Teeball team this season. Well, not really coaching. Assistant coaching. The coach conned me into it a few weeks ago. I figured, what the hell. Maybe it'll help my daughter feel more comfortable out there with all those boys. We've only had three practice sessions, so far. Coach told us the first game would be a week after they gave out the uniforms. Well, a couple of hours ago my wife phoned me. She said,"Sorry babe, I forgot to tell you Lisa (the coach's wife) called yesterday and said you were having practice today." "Today?" I asked. "But we always practice on Fridays." "You've got your first game tomorrow." "Tomorrow??? Are you kidding? But, we don't have any uniforms!" "They're handing them out today." "But...but we're not ready!" I stammered. "We haven't ev

I don't want to be very graphic about my activities, late yesterday afternoon. Suffice it to say that having several gloved medical personnel prying open your buttocks so that another may cut and scrape away offending blood clots from your anus, is not an enjoyable occurrence. I rank it up there with root canal or having my toenail removed (I had hemorrhaging below my big toenail and it was getting infected - they had to remove the entire toenail to get to it). I guess it's a sign of age, that the last few years I've had to undergo so many procedures. Things that ten years ago I barely knew existed. How we change... My wife turns 39 today. I turn 39 on Sunday. I married an older woman. This will be our last year before we hit the big ***40***. Funny, how I used to consider 40 as being old. Now, I'm vigorously trying to view it as a new beginning. We'll see. I have a whole year left to ponder it.

"Daddy!" she yells in delight when I walk through the door after a hard day's work, running into my arms and planting a big sloppy kiss on my mouth, successfully diluting the day's sour remains. "Hi baby," I say, smiling from ear to ear in pure, unsurpassable joy. "I missed you! Did you miss me?" "Yeah," she says, matter of factly and moving on to more important issues. "Today Fluke went out through the right door. Can we give him a snack?" "He did? Through the puppy door? Are you sure?" I ask incredulous. "I opened the door for him." "And did he go potty, like a good dog?" "He only went peepee!" she says, frustrated. "Can I give him a snack, and Rocky too?" This has been one of my biggest problems with the new puppy. He doesn't want to get out of the screened patio and into the yard through the flapping pet door. He insists on tearing right through my sc

Click here for mood music Ruby caught the ball and faltered briefly, bouncing for balance with one foot, then slid back onto her pinion seat. "You knock over ma' horse, I'm gonna knock you over, woman!" Kevin yelled from the garage. He was helping Artie put some padding on the back of his saddlebags. Artie didn't want to mess up his paint job by throwing the saddlebags bareback on his bike. Ruby threw the baseball back at me. I caught it with my helmet. Didn't even have to tilt my hog over. The helmet law had just become effective in California, courtesy of Pete Wilson. We wore the helmets, but only after we'd placed stickers on the back that read: "Fuck Pete Wilson." "Let's go, let's go!" I said to the guys, impatiently, "I wanna get moving!" "We're waiting on Ron and Dean," Artie mumbled, without looking up. I tossed the ball back at Ruby. A bad throw. She stretched her rig

Rather than leave a long comment on this post by Standing Naked , I felt inspired to seek out some answers to her questions on my own post. In my daily frame of my mind, I consider home to be the tangible house I own, where I reside with my wife and child. The place where I eat and sleep, and where the bulk of my income is sunk into. But on a more subconscious level, I think of "back home" as the land I grew up in, my parent's house, the farm we spent our weekends at, the schools I attended and the streets I was reared on. Rather than a specific place, home consists of a series of memories. As George Webber finds, in the events so eloquently narrated by Thomas Wolfe, "You can't go home again." As trite and overused as that saying may be, it is one that is true on a multitude of levels. The most obvious and common of truths - and the one I am primarily concerned with here - is that the home we leave behind is never the same as the one we retur

Hi Everybody! Well, we got through it okay. Pretty windy, loud and drawn out, but my only casualties were a banana tree, two screen sections around the pool, a whole bunch of different branches, and a tarp covering I had over the door to my outdoor workshop (which will now be replaced by a much sturdier piece of plywood!). Not too bad, considering. Before I go any further, I would like to thank all those of you who expressed concern for my family's safety. Every kind comment and email was very much appreciated! The damned hurricane was sooooo slow that we were holed up from mid-afternoon on Friday through Sunday morning. Our power came in and out periodically, but was never out for long. We were one of the lucky ones. Many homes out there are still without power. Our phone line went out early on. In fact, I still don't have a dial tone. Since this afternoon, my DSL is able to use the phone line to grant me internet access, but I can't use the phone. Go figure.

Closed for Business! Well, it's been a struggle, but I finally got the house ready to weather the storm yesterday. I meant to post last night and let everybody know we're doing alright, but every muscle in my body aches - I feel like I've been run over by a semi - so I let myself pass out watching the endless TV coverage. If you've never been through a situation like this one, let me explain to you how it works. No matter how prepared for a hurricane you think you are, when one approaches you discover there are always a few things you still need to get. Inevitably, things like drinking water, canned foods, and essentials such as milk, eggs and bread. Enough supplies to get you through a week. Gas. The moment it becomes evident that there will eventually be a landfall, even if it's north of us, the fuel trucks stop coming down here, afraid they won't be able to drive back out. So the lines at the gas stations that still have fuel become