Well, here we are again.  This marks the third incarnation of Sage's Scribbles.  The first version was back in '97, before the word "blog" was even around.  We called them "online journals" or "online diaries" back then.  My journal was part of Cardigan's Corner of the Web, my personal site that's been online since February of 1996. Sage's Scribbles version one ran for nine months that year, with daily updates.  But then things got a little weird in my life, and I took it down.

In early '98, after a hiatus of about six months and a relocation from Pennsylvania to Utah, Sage's Scribbles version two was online.  It lasted less than a week.  The problem was that things were just too personal.  Not for me, but for others in my life, who weren't happy with having such intimate details out in cyberspace for all to see.  So down it came.

Skip forward seven years.  Another relocation, this time to California.  "Blogging" has become huge.  Lots of interesting developments in my life.  The time seems right to jump back in.  And besides, now there are cool online sites such as this one that allow you to post from anywhere.  Even from work (which is where I am right now... shhh!).

So welcome, all.  Hope you find these pages entertaining.

During the daylight hours, I work for a large association, supporting two VPs.  I'll refer to them as Boss A and Boss B.  This isn't merely conventional nomenclature, but actual description.  Boss A is, in fact, a Type A personality, very outgoing and dominant.  (In a good way.)  Boss B is a Type B personality, generally fairly laid back, more of a facilitator than a leader.  But she bottles things up inside, and when the pressure gets too high, she tends to Hulk out a bit.

Normally, Boss A is the one who keeps me loaded down with work.  Typically, my workload is about 70% Boss A and 30% Boss B.  But this week, it's Boss B who's had me jumping.  And yesterday in particular was "fun."  Everything was an emergency for her.  She had too much to do, and too little time to do it.  Her temper was short, and mistakes that she made would inevitably be blamed on something or someone else.  Yeah.  Much fun.

Today, however, both bosses are off-site at different meetings.  Ah, a day to myself!  And you can guarantee that precious little work is being done by yours truly.  Just enough to get by, basically.  Both bosses, though, are cool.  When I was in my first week here, they told me point blank that they knew there would be plenty of times when I'd be utterly swamped with work, but they also wanted me to have days like today, where I could relax.  So I don't feel guilty for spending today creating this new blog and emailing with friends.  And besides, I did do work!  (Was that a rationalization on my part?  Could be.) 

The funny thing is that I'm realizing that this sort of day is rare for me in this job, but was commonplace at the last association I worked for.  Guess that's why my position there was ultimately eliminated, huh?

Seriously, I have virtually no complaints about my bosses.  I've even associated with them outside of work, which is something I've only ever been able to say about one boss (out of dozens) prior.  Most of my bosses have been jerks of one breed or another, and it's really great to have human beings as my direct superiors in the workplace. 

Guess I should start shopping for what to get them on Boss's Day...

So last night, my wife’s cousins were over for dinner, drinks, and dishing about the rest of the family. Always fun, and I planned on writing about some of those things today, but it occurred to me that references to the local family will be lost on you without a scorecard.

So herewith is the official cast of characters:

Cardigan –  That's me.

Lorelei – That’s my wife of five years.

Grams – That would be my wife’s grandmother. We live in her home. We moved here to California (nearly 5 years ago, now) so that Lor could be the caregiver for her elderly grandparents.  Sadly, early the following year, her grandfather passed away. Currently, Grams is receiving hospice care, as she, too, isn’t long for this world.

“G” – This would be one of Lor’s aunts. G was, until fairly recently, the trustee in charge of the grandparents’ estate. As to why she no longer is… well, that’s for another post. G’s husband is “C2.”

“E” – G’s daughter, and therefore Lor’s cousin. E was doing Lor’s job before we moved here. (And if she’d done it well, we wouldn’t be here.) E’s husband is “J2.”

“D” – Another cousin of Lor’s. Daughter of “C,” Lor's aunt who passed away a few years before we moved here. D’s husband is “T.” One of D’s sisters, who may be mentioned occasionally, is “J.” J’s husband is “P.”

“L” – Lorelei’s mom, and the only family member likely to be mentioned frequently who does not live locally. She lives in Utah. L is now the trustee of the estate, having replaced her sister, G, several months ago. Her husband is “T2.” L also has a sister in Maryland who might be mentioned once in a while. We’ll label her “J3.”

So there you go. That’s the list of major players and their significant others. And just to help you keep it all straight, here’s a handy-dandy color chart identifying the cast of characters, including who are the good guys and bad guys. As to why there need to be such labels, well… you’ll just have to keep checking in!

So tags suck.  Goodbye tags. I mean, it's a cool idea and all, but when words like "big" and "you" and "even" are tagged... that's just asinine. Sort of undermines the whole concept of tagging significant words.  Besides, they look ugly as hell.  (Funny, though... right now the "suggested tags" thingie is telling me that "tags suck" should be a tag.  I'm almost tempted. (You'll note they're back.  See the Dec. 29 entry for why.)

In a few minutes, Lorelei and I will be off to Brew It Up in Sacramento for brunch.  It's probably the most varied brewpub I've ever seen. They've got over 20 styles of microbrew beer at all times.  That's mighty impressive.  I've been trying to persuade the owner to allow me the use of their private room for a class on beer that I want to teach for The Learning Exchange.  He asked for more information about it, but hasn't responded to that email in about three weeks. 

Ah, well.  There are other alternatives if he balks.  Or is that bocks? 

So I took a day off work today.  Was up too late last night and just didn't feel like dragging my sorry ass out of bed at six a.m.  Fortunately, Boss A was off today already, and Boss B didn't have anything particularly urgent for me, so it wasn't a problem to call off.  My company doesn't utilize "sick days."  Rather, all time off, whether vacation, sick days, or personal days, are under the umbrella of Paid Time Off (PTO).  I like this system, as I rarely get sick enough to miss work.  In fact, in the year and a half I've been with this company, I've only called out sick once.  So I end up getting more personal time off than I would if the company had sick days.

It's been a lazy day, though, aside from going for a nice walk through the neighborhood this morning.  I suggested to Lor that we should do this every morning before I go to work, but I don't think getting up at 5:30 struck her as a great idea.  Beyond that, I ran a few errands, bought a new CD visor for the car to replace the one that has vanished into the extradimensional space in our home, and installed a couple new programs on the already overworked PC.

As I write this, Lor is attempting to feed Grams.  It's difficult to get her to eat.  She will barely open her mouth, much of the time, and then must be urged to swallow the food in her mouth.  Half the time, she pushes it back out.  Lor says it's like feeding an ornery infant.  She's deteriorating in other ways, too.  Her urine output has decreased, for example.  We're defninitely getting close to the end with her.

So my pal Gary gave me a set of computer disks at Xmas, which contain a whole buttload of D&D stuff.  (That's Dungeons & Dragons, for you non-gamers out there.)  Yesterday, I finally got around to looking at the contents, and am pretty impressed.  There's a lot in there that should come in handy for the campaign I want to begin.  I'm excited to start playing again.  It's been... well, a lot of years.  Even with our extremely limited social life, we just might be able to pull this off.  It'll probably be me & Lor, plus D&T and D's elder son.  He's 9 or 10, but has played the game.  His desire to play will most likely draw his mom into it, and T used to play in the past, so I'm sure he'll be into it.  Of course, all this just makes the wife think I'm a big geek.  (Then again, she's the one who's got the entire 7-year run of Star Trek: The Next Generation on her Amazon Wish List.)

Lor's mom called today.  She's decided to retire early, due to her medical condition.  She has M.S. of the relapsing/remitting variety.  Her recent relapse was pretty bad, and the stresses of a day job are hard on her.  Her company is offering early retirement to many folks, so she's going to put in for that.  But even if they don't offer her the early-out package, she'll still do it.  I think it's a great idea.  It'll take so much stress off of her; she really needs to do it.  I feel bad for her on several levels, not the least of which is how much stress she's been under due to the family situation. 

As I mentioned earlier, her sister G used to be the trustee for their parents' estate.  But G was asked to step down when we discovered a lot of... um... "discrepancies" with the accounting.  I won't go into the entire history of how it was that we discovered it, but of course, G denied it, which forced us to do a reckoning.  We're still in the middle of getting cancelled checks from the bank, but we're looking at several thousand dollars of questionable expenses, some of which are quite obviously fraudulent.  G is, by the way, a textbook narcissist.  It's absolutely uncanny.  You couldn't ask for a clearer example of it.  And she caters to her daughter, E, to such an extreme that this girl is pretty much incapable of standing on her own two feet.  She's had everything handed to her.  She's got a tremendous ego, as well.  We often joke that she's the Paris Hilton of our family - not as pretty as she thinks, not as intelligent as she thinks, and not really deserving of what she's got.  She and her mother are acting as though they're being persecuted in this whole affair.  From where I stand, I think they're lucky they're not being prosecuted.  G for what she did, and E for being the knowing recipient of much of it.

Ah, it's such a soap opera life I live.   Always been that way, ever since I was a kid, and I don't expect it'll ever change.

Your IQ Is 140

Your Logical Intelligence is Genius Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Genius Your General Knowledge is Genius

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

I guess that says a lot about the difficulty of this particular test.  Anyway, I like these sorts of things, so I'll probably do more of them.  I know you're all eagerly awaiting the results.

Poor Lorelei. She's miserable today. It's a combination of several factors, but mainly because she got hardly any sleep last night.  Her allergies flared up, making her itchy.  And her insomnia was in full swing, too.  She was still awake at 4:30 when I got up to go wee.

But on top of that, her aunt called today.  J3 is an odd duck.  She's got some OCD issues, but what is most annoying lately is that when she calls to ask about her mother, it's like being interrogated.  (I've been lucky enough to have received phone calls from her in the past, when Lor was unavailable.  So I know first-hand what it's like to be grilled by this woman.  I can't imagine going through it on less than five hours of sleep.)  This woman asks more questions than even the visiting nurses do about Grams' health.  We're pretty sure that every time she phones, she writes down all of the answers to her questions, and then compares them each time.  Today she apparently got her fill of answers, then proceeded to determine that Grams had 5 days to live.  I don't know why she feels she's qualified to make such a prognosis.  Even the hospice workers aren't narrowing it down, and they see Grams regularly.  (If J3's prediction turns out to be true, I'll fill my pants on the spot, I assure you.)

And because I know you can't wait for more insight into Cardigan...

Wow. That one is downright creepy in its accuracy!

So, one of the headlines leaping out at me from Google News this morning was, "BUSH CAMPAIGNS FOR PATRIOT ACT RENEWAL."  Well, of course he does!  He's a wannabe dictator, and fascist legislation is something he likes.

"One of the most important tools to combat terror is the Patriot Act," he said. "The Patriot Act has helped save American lives and it has protected American liberties. For the sake of our national security, the United States Congress needs to renew all the provisions of the Patriot Act and, this time, Congress needs to make those provisions permanent."

First sentence: lie.  The Patriot Act is no improvement over the laws existing prior to 9/11, with regard to fighting terror.  Sentence number two: more lies.  The claim that the Act has saved lives is unsubstantiated, and it has eroded American liberties, not protected them.  Third sentence: pure insanity.  Parts of the Act are blatantly unconstitutional as it is.  Making it permanent would be a step toward the establishment of nationwide martial law.  But Dubya would probably like that, as Commander-in-Chief.

Bastard.

So, speaking of pants...  Today I put on a pair of jeans that haven't fit me in something like three years.  I suspected they might fit, now, since the other day I was able to pull down a pair of my jeans (that I used to wear beltless) without unbuttoning or unzipping them.  TMI, I know, but there you have it.

Lorelei and I are both paying close attention to our diets.  In the past couple months, she's lost 24 pounds.  That's pretty darn impressive.  I haven't been doing it as long as she, nor do I know how much I've lost, since I don't weigh myself.  But the jeans test is a good gauge for me.  It's more about how I look and feel, rather than about numbers, for me. 

The wild thing is that neither of us has even started a regular exercise routine, yet.  (Time to take all the junk off the Bowflex!)  So far, it's just been being careful about our food choices, without depriving ourselves.  I tried a low-carb diet once (back in the pre-Atkins days), and I did lose weight.  But I couldn't deal with not being able to eat my favorite foods.  And that's what all diets have been like for me, up until now.

If you're curious, it's the Weight Watchers "Points" plan.  And it's really not a diet in the conventional sense.  It's really just a formula for keeping track of much of the important factors of what you're eating: calories, fat, and fiber.  That's how they calculate how many "points" something is worth.  Ultimately, weight loss all comes down to calories.  If you take in more than you use, you'll gain weight.  Period.  Fat is a consideration, too, for obvious reasons, and fiber is a good thing (which is why something with the same calories and fat as another item, but with more fiber, will have fewer points), so this is why they're tracked.

For those of you trying to lose weight, here's the biggest tip I can give you:  Stop dining out so often.  We went out to brunch last weekend and when we got home, we calculated how many points we'd consumed.  (Keep in mind, we avoided the most obviously "bad" stuff on the menu.)  To our shock, our meals had about 2/3 of our daily points allotment!  Good thing it actually was two of our three meals, rather than just being breakfast or lunch.  We have a habit of dining out frequently, and when we stop to think about how unhealthy so much stuff on the typical menu is...  Well, it's just sad.  Especially because it's possible to make fantastic food that isn't overloaded with calories or fat.

Sometimes I really get ahead of myself.  For example, I just spent the last hour putting together a list of beer styles and examples that I'd like to use for when I do the beer appreciation class for The Learning Exchange.  Thing is, I haven't even proposed the class to them, yet, let alone gotten their approval.  You'd think I'd have sense enough to do first things first.  But no.

Speaking of beer... of the root variety... Lorelei and I have now sampled forty... yes, that's right... 40 brands of root beer.  We started this whole thing a few years ago with (I think) eight brands, and it's just grown.  For the full lowdown on that, you'll need to go here.

It's been a very laid back weekend.  And that's great, because next Saturday, I have a board meeting that's scheduled to last from eleven to four, and I need to meet one of my fellow board members at ten o'clock for pre-meeting stuff.  Talk about a day shot to hell.  I have no idea why the Prez thinks she needs five hours for this meeting, but hey... I'm just the Veep.  Whatever.

The Safeway where we shop is undergoing a remodeling, and one of the things they've (finally!) added is a fresh seafood counter.  Sure, we could go elsewhere for that, but we've been shopping at this store since we moved here and old habits die hard.  (And in case you're wondering, it's Cajun seasoned salmon for dinner tonight.)

So ever since Grams began her recent decline, we've cancelled the monthly poker games that we'd instituted.  So I've had to get my fill of the game via the rather lame X-Box program we have.  Now, I've toyed with the idea of online poker, and may still take a crack at it.  Texas Hold-Em may be all the rage, but Omaha is my game.  I always seem to do well with that one.  I'm wondering how I'd fare against actual opponents, rather than computer players (who tend to go all-in with a measly pair of nines, sometimes).  One of these days, I should find out.

Friends I've had for a long time know that I have been a non-drinker for most of my adult life.  Yes, I imbibed while underage, as do most teens.  But I didn't particularly enjoy it, and never got drunk.  This lasted for about a year, and then I quit.  No, I don't really know why.  But over recent years, I've come to the conclusion that my reason for staying quit wasn't the best one.  It was about control.

See, I have tended to be a bit of a control freak in my life.  This was pointed out to me rather unceremoniously by my ex-wife, during the stages of our breakup.  It was quite a shock, because I had never seen myself as one, but instantly knew she was correct.  Guess I just needed someone to point it out.  And who better than she?  After all, it was her ridiculous level of passivity that virtually required me to become obsessed with control. 

At any rate, I've relaxed somewhat since then.  I came to realize that there was no reason I needed to keep myself under such tight reins.  I was a responsible person, after all.  Even if I did choose to knock back a couple every now and again, there was very little likelihood that I'd ever get drunk, and a zero chance I'd ever become a "problem" drinker.

Blame it on Beverages & More, if you like.  When I first entered that store, in search of the previously mentioned samples of root beer, I was blown away by the selection of beers they offered.  I grew up in Pennsylvania, which has really wacky alcohol laws (I now realize).  A store such as BevMo just doesn't exist there, as beer must be purchased through a distributor.  By the case.  (Or in sixers from bars, but that's about it.)  Wine and hard liquor must be purchased through state licensed stores.  Very bizarre.  Hell, even in Utah you can buy all of the above at convenience stores.

Anyway, I gave in to the temptation.  And now it's hard for me to leave that store without spending $100 or more.  I've become a bit of a beer snob.  I still can't stand wine, though.  And mixed drinks are fine, on occasion.

Last night became one such occasion.  I decided it would be fun to do a New Orleans theme for dinner.  We'd already gotten the Cajun marinated salmon.  We had Creole spiced rice to serve with it.  So why not make some hurricanes? 

Why not, indeed?  Making them was fine.  Having one with dinner was fine.  Having a second after dinner, as we sat outside enjoying the weather, was also fine.  Inviting D&T over and having two more was probably not fine.  And splitting a bomber of Ephémère Cassis with them definitely went beyond fine.  By the end of the night, I had a serious case of the wobblies.

I swear I will never understand why people enjoy feeling tipsy.  Chalk it up to some inner need to feel "in control" at all times... whatever... but it was a seriously unpleasant feeling.  And one I have no desire to repeat.

So people around the office have been yammering about the Michael Jackson acquittal.  I personally don't have much to say about it.  After OJ's trial, nothing surprises me.  I have, however, browsed a few articles online about it.  And I tell you what... what some folks have said about it just makes me laugh.

Take the Rev. Al Sharpton, for example.  He said, "This is a vindication that people are innocent until proven guilty."  Really, Al?  Hasn't stopped you from accusing the innocent in the past, or have you forgotten about Tawana Brawley already?

One article I read said, “In Britain, Jackson's friend, alleged psychic Uri Geller, was overwhelmed by the resounding innocent verdict. Geller said he was at a loss for words.”  Um... really?  That's kind a like a meterologist being caught in a rainstorm without an umbrella.  Uri, dude... if you're psychic, maybe you should've seen this coming?  Psychic my ass.

Okay, enough freakshow stuff.  Here in the orifice, we just got word that a new hire coming to us next month is from the Philly area.  I shot off a welcome email to her and advised her to bring along some good pizza and some cheesesteaks.  Good pizza's about as easy to find here as fundamentalists at a freethought festival.  And California wouldn't know a real cheesesteak if they started raining from the sky.

Actually, I'll be having some pretty darn good pizza tonight.  I'm teaching one of my classes at The Learning Exchange, and I'll pop in to California Pizza Kitchen before class.  Their "Neapolitan" style thin crust pizza is quite good.  (Oddly, they offer a white thin crust pizza in the frozen foods section of the grocery store, but not at the restaurants!)  I avoid their regular crust pizza.  It's not bad, but if I'm going to eat something as loaded with "points" as pizza, I'm only going to go for something better, thanks.

Last night, Lor and I watched The Incredibles on DVD again.  Pixar can do no wrong, it seems, though this flick was far from their best.  I enjoy it well enough, but I think Brad Bird was a bit too liberal in his "sampling" of the Fantastic Four for use in the movie.  I mean, with the exception of Dash, it pretty much was the FF.  Even the "Mole Man" counterpart arriving at the end in his big drilling vehicle... straight outta FF.  I know this was all intentional on his part, but come on... if he wanted to make a Fantastic Four movie, why didn't he just do that?

I'm a superhero junkie, I admit.  I collected comics from the time I was a kid up until I was nearly thirty.  And the only reason I quit was because I simply couldn't afford them any longer.  And like all comic freaks, I eagerly awaited the day when live action movies could be made of them, and made well.  After years and years of sorry-ass flicks (either with poor special effects, or just lousy writing), that day is finally here.  I've loved the more recent superhero movie offerings, with only a few exceptions.  (I can't begin to list how many bad things there were about Daredevil, for example.)  Next month, The Fantastic Four will hit the big screen.  This was one of my early loves in the comics world, along with Spider-Man.  And they did such great jobs with Spidey in the two movies so far, I just hope they can pull it off with the FF.  I admit some trepidation, of course, as I do with all of them.  I remember when the first X-Men movie premiered... I was so certain it would be lame.  And it so wasn't!  That's when I got excited.  I'd become so bored by all the Batman movies that I just lost any hope of superhero movies being good.  And while that hope was rekindled with X-Men, I still have low expectations for Batman Begins.  Maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.

Certainly, I'll go see it.  Hell, I saw The Hulk, and I never even cared much for that character.  If nothing else, it'll give me something to talk about with my kid brother.  Movies and comics are about the only things we connect on, unfortunately.  I guess I chalk that up to us not having grown up together.  Truth is, we barely know each other.  Were we not separated by 2000 miles and three time zones, I'm sure we'd be working on rectifying that.  But as it is...  Well, we're brothers.  But we're not close.  Kinda sucks.

My kid brother called, literally on his way out of the theater, after watching Batman Begins.  Earlier in the day, I'd read some reviews of the movie, and PD's assessment agreed with most of them, which is that I need to get my ass into a theater to see it.  So I guess I will.  (No argument from Lorelei.  Apparently, Christian Bale is her boyfriend.  Who knew?)

Anyway, it was a day from hell at work. Y'know what's fun?  Trying to coordinate three separate conference calls with lots of people (most of whom don't work for your company) on short notice, and with some people being needed for two of the calls.  If you're not careful (and if I had been, you wouldn't be reading about this), you can get some wires seriously crossed.  I'll leave it to your imagination as to what kind of crossing I'm talking about.

So my friend Rich has three herniated discs in his neck.  I warned him what would happen if his head got too big.

Well, little bro was right. BATMAN BEGINS was the Batman movie fans have been waiting for. While the two Tim Burton flicks were fair enough, and certainly dark enough, that franchise was utterly ruined by the two that followed. They were painfully embarrassing as examples of the superhero genre. Joel Schumacher should be tarred and feathered for them. We saw a preview for Spielberg's upcoming WAR OF THE WORLDS. I dunno. Wasn't INDEPENDENCE DAY, when it comes right down to it, a modernization (and Americanization) of that story? I fear fans will find them simply too similar. Won't prevent me from seeing it, of course. And maybe the big S. will surprise me.

So D&T and son will be coming over tonight for D&D. I'm excited, but nervous, too. It's been a looooong time since I've played and this will be my first time with 3rd Edition, really. And since I'm the DM, there's pressure on me... not just to do it well, but to do it especially well enough to change the girls' preconceived notions about the game. So it can't be boring. That normally wouldn't be much of a challenge, but since they're only passingly familiar with the game and how to play it, I effectively have to teach them and entertain them at the same time. We'll see what happens.

And a buddy of mine has taken me to task for my comments about Bush a few entries ago. Effectively, he's accused me of coming off like a left-wing whiner, making cheap shots against Bush's character, rather than being serious and rational about the whole thing. And he evidently doesn't think it matters that this is a personal blog, not a political one. And maybe he's right. Maybe I should have been less reactionary and more analytical. While I pointed out the lies in what he said, I probably shouldn't have accused him of wanting to be a dictator. Fair enough. Never let it be said that I can't take criticism and admit my shortcomings. So if anyone felt I was simply crying out that Bush is an evil wanker, let me spell it out plainly: Bush is a president who has every appearance of thinking that he is above the laws of this nation. He has repeatedly enacted legislation, from the earliest days of his first term, that defy the Constitution. One of his first acts was to create the Office of Faith-Based and Community Initiatives, a clear mingling of church and state. Several parts of the USA Patriot Act violate the 4th Amendment. He signed the McCain-Feingold Act, which he even admitted was unconstitutional. And on and on. He's got the worst environmental record of any president in my lifetime. He has gotten our country deeper in debt that any president before him (even outstripping his daddy, which is impressive). He is opposed to a woman's right to choose an abortion, to the idea of same-gender marriage, and all sorts of other personal freedoms. These are the reasons I find him a horrible president, not to mention his duplicitious reasons for taking us to war. If he was so concerned about WMDs, why not go after Iran? Or North Korea? Or other countries? (Maybe because WMDs weren't the issue?) It honestly blows my mind that so many Americans like this guy. Members of my wife's family have even said they think he's the greatest guy in the world. How obtuse must you be to think this? Or how anti-liberty? I just can't figure it out. Anyway, that's the nutshell version. And no ad hominem attacks involved. (That better, Rich?)

The sister of this same buddy happened to be in the Sacramento area on Friday, and I got to spend a couple hours with her. That was nice, as I haven't seen her in years. We chatted about all sorts of things, and she fell in love with all three of my cats. (I don't think there's been a cat born that she wouldn't fall in love with.) Turns out she has excellent taste in beer. I even had a bomber of her favorite brew on hand! Unibroue's Trois Pistoles. Lor and I split it with her. Yummy stuff. She reads my blog, but hers is posted on Live Journal, and is only open to other LJ friends. (Some imposter over there adopted the Cardigan name, so that's why I'm not there. Someone should tell her I've been "Cardigan" since 1984, dammit!)

Speaking of my cats, Tristan's taken a turn for the worse. I don't know if this is his final downhill slide or not. We've increased his daily subcutaneous fluids by 50%. Hopefully he'll be rebound a little again. I had no idea that kidney failure was such a common thing in cats. I know it'll probably come to the point where I have to put him down, but the very idea of doing that makes my stomach knot. I sincerely hope he just dies peacefully in his sleep one night. But I doubt that's going to happen. Still, aside from the fluid therapy, which is only a minute or two every day, his quality of life is fine. He still enjoys his regular activities: sleeping, eating, sitting on the window sill looking outside, etc. And so long as that continues, we'll avoid that last trip to the vet.

Yesterday, that is. Not today.

So many things have been building up inside me over the past year. I’m not great at the whole stress relief thing, so I keep stuff bottled up until it overwhelms me. And that’s what happened.

Tristan’s health was the final bit that pushed me over the edge. I ended up leaving work early and Lor and I had a very long talk about things. She’s really good at talking me through stuff, and we approached my huge list of issues in a piecemeal fashion.

We’ve decided to let nature take its course with Tristan. He’s gotten to the point where he runs and hides when it’s time for his fluid treatments… or even whenever he sees one of us approaching for any reason, out of fear of being stuck with that needle. And clearly, the treatments have stopped being as effective as they once were. I think he’s stopped eating, too. I’ve decided not to have him euthanized, though. He hates riding in the car. He hates even more having to go into the vet. Why make his last day on earth such a traumatic one for him?

Of course, not all cats in ESRD go peacefully. Yes, he could go gently into that good night, or he could rage, rage against the dying of the light. (Sorry, Dylan.) Only time will tell, obviously. I just know that being taken to the vet would not be high on his list of things-to-do-with-only-hours-to-live.

Fuck, this hurts. People who don’t understand how others can become so attached to animals must not be human.

So here are more test results that I’ve taken over the past week or so. Just because I know you’re dying to know what sorts of things these dubious quizzes have to say about ol’ Cardigan.

Pretty accurate, I’d say. It’s true that I can get along with almost anyone. You’ve got to be a real wanker before I’ll avoid being around you. Of course, sometimes you can’t avoid being around the wankers. Sometimes you work with them. Even then, I can usually put up a good front, to keep the peace. Other times, like when it’s family (can you say “G & E”? I knew you could!), I just pretend they don’t exist. It’s more fun that way.

You Are Incredibly Logical

(You got 100% of the questions right) Move over Spock - you're the new master of logic. You think rationally, clearly, and quickly. A seasoned problem solver, your mind is like a computer!

How Logical Are You?

Let’s be honest. This was not a difficult quiz. But also to be honest, I am often accused of treating everything too logically. (And I admit I have no idea what that is supposed to mean.)

Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence

You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well. An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly. You are also good at remembering information and convincing someone of your point of view. A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary. You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator.

What Kind of Intelligence Do You Have?

Guess this is a good thing for a writer, huh?

Let’s move on to politics, shall we?

You Are a "Don't Tread On Me" Libertarian

You distrust the government, are fiercely independent, and don't belong in either party. Religion and politics should never mix, in your opinion... and you feel oppressed by both. You don't want the government to cramp your self made style. Or anyone else's for that matter. You're proud to say that you're pro-choice on absolutely everything!

What political persuasion are you?

Yep. That would be me. Though I tend to refer to myself as a Liberal-tarian. And for something more analytical:

I guess that really puts it by the numbers, doesn’t it? Not sure how accurate this is, though it does pretty much label me a libertarian.

And now for something completely different…

Now this kinda freaks me out, but it’s hardly an epiphany. And for the record, I want to say that my particular flavor of OCD is quite mild.

No, I don’t wash my hands 50 times a day. No, I don’t have to make sure that all the clocks in the house have exactly the same time, down to the second. No, I don’t do any really flaky shit like that.

But I do tend to be a sort of “completist.” Like, if I discover a new band I like, I must buy all of their CDs. (A fact I’m sure they’d appreciate, if they knew about it.) A couple months ago, a co-worker played one of Vienna Teng’s CDs for me. I enjoyed it. She offered to make a copy for me. I told her honestly that I’d much rather buy the original. And her second disc, too. Sometimes this completism is such that it even causes me to keep CDs I don’t even like much, just for the sake of having all the stuff by a particular artist. I have all of Alice Cooper’s original studio CDs, for example. But does anyone really like Pretties for You? I won’t get rid of it, though, because then I won’t have the complete set.

And yes, I like things to be organized. Storing CDs alphabetically by artist only makes sense when you’ve got damn near a thousand of the things. How would you find them, otherwise? And when you do have all twenty-some of Alice Cooper’s albums, one way of logically arranging them would be chronologically. Hence the terminology: chronologically. Sure, there are other ways. I could break them down by genre, or file them alphabetically by album title. It’s just that these don’t make as much sense to me.

Lorelei and I do agree that movies should be filed alphabetically by title. Where we disagree is on how to file titles that begin with a number. I think they should be filed under whatever letter that number would begin with when spelled out. She thinks they should all go at the beginning, before “A.” But then you’d have something like Thirteen filed under “T,” but 13 Going on 30 at the beginning of the alphabet. To me, that’s just dumb.

We also have issues when it comes to books. We have lots of books, but it doesn’t seem to matter even in the slightest to her what’s filed where. I, on the other hand, am bothered by the idea of having books on gardening mixed in with autobiographies. Nor do I go for the whole “arranging by size” theory. Nope. (The one exception to this is that I like all mass market paperback fiction together. Hardbacks go elsewhere. But this is largely because then I can use smaller shelves for the smaller books.)

See, to me, all this only make sense. It’s for the sake of convenience.

Take our collection of Torani syrups, for example. At our peak (we’ve run out of a few), we had 52 flavors. Not quite their whole line, but the vast majority of it. (Lor makes a fantastic latte.) Because we have these on a table on a series of risers, I made labels to put up high, on the bottles’ necks, listing the flavor. That way, you can actually see what flavor you’re grabbing for without having to lift it a foot off the table. And of course they’re arranged alphabetically. C’mon! Fifty-two flavors! (Yes, it occurred to me to arrange them by style… fruit flavors, nut flavors, etc. But I didn’t.)

Okay, so it’s a sickness. But it’s a fairly innocuous one. I can live with it.

On Thursday, Lorelei called me to say that she thought Tristan had taken an even worse turn. So when I got home from work that night, I sat with him in the garage for a long time. Clearly, he was getting close. So I said my goodbyes to him.

This involved the kind of thing that most men would never admit to, including a lot of tears. I told him how much I loved him. I told him how great it had been to have been his human for nearly thirteen years. How sorry I was for the times I got mad at him. All that sort of thing. All the while, I stroked his head and body. He purred, glancing up at me occasionally, but mostly keeping his head down.

I didn’t know how much longer he had, and as I mentioned before, I was feeling quite torn over letting him go on his own or having him put down. I told him this. I even asked him to tell me what to do. No, I don’t honestly believe animals understand English, but I do think they’re pretty astute when it comes to knowing what we’re emoting.

After a long while, I left him alone and tried to focus my attention on other things. Later in the evening, I went in to see him again, only to find that he had moved to another corner of the garage and huddled himself in. Not a good sign. But I picked him up and returned him to his former place, putting him in the little cat bed I’d put there earlier. And I petted him some more. I leaned down, and we bonked heads. And then I went to bed.

I found him Friday morning, dead. I don't know what time he actually passed. But he came in from the garage to do it. I found him lying stretched out on the floor. I'm glad he didn't die in the garage, for some reason.

When I first saw him, I knew he was gone, but checked anyway. And at first, this great feeling of relief hit me. There were no signs of an overly distressful death. I was also greatly relieved that I wouldn't have to traumatize him by taking him to the vet to be euthanized. But that feeling didn't last long, as all the other emotions came out. Again. And it got worse after I woke Lorelei up.

Later that morning, I took him to the vet, who has an arrangement with a cremation service. I was fine the whole trip there, but when I told the ladies there that it was Tristan in the box, and all three of them went, "Awww," it was like a blow to the stomach.

It's weird... you appreciate the sympathy of others, but at the same time, you wish they wouldn't say a word, because their sympathy just rips down that stoic wall you've put up.

For a few days prior, I'd been having occasional chest pains. I had chalked them up to being stress-related, and ever since Tristan’s passing, I haven't had a twinge. I guess I was even more torn over what to do than I thought.

It's just so unnatural not having him around. The nights have been hardest, because he would often sleep with me. I keep waiting to hear and feel that familiar “whump” on the bed when he jumped onto it… to feel him climbing up my legs and onto my side, to lie there for a while. Or to feel his harsh tongue on the inside of my elbow or the back of my hand, obsessive groomer that he was.

Thirteen years is a long time.

But not long enough.

Today we received a couple sympathy cards, one from our vet, the other from J&P.  Very considerate of them.  J&P even gave their new kitten the middle name of Tristan, in honor of our departed pal.  (I didn't know people actually gave animals middle names.)

Lor and I both found ourselves missing him quite a lot today.  I think when we suffer a loss, we are in some stage of denial for a time.  I think that's why sometimes it takes a few days for things to really sink in.  And sometimes, we just don't think consciously about our losses.  I know that for months after my father passed away, I'd occasionally get the thought that I should call him, because it had been a while since we'd talked.  Lor told me that one time she marked a page in a catalog after seeing something she wanted to get her dad for Xmas... and it was two or three years after he'd died.  Funny how our minds work.

In other news, I received an email today from the owner of a store in Orange County, CA, called Real Soda in Real Bottles.  Their web site is SodaKing.com.  He saw my web page on The Great Root Beer Taste Test.  Turns out he's the guy who supplies Beverages & More with much of their soda pop... so he's partly responsible for many of the 40 root beers Lor and I have taste tested so far.  Small world.

So tomorrow is L's last day at work.   I mentioned that she was putting in for early retirement.  She didn't get the offered package, but she's still retiring.  She'll be coming here on Friday to spend some time with us (and her dying mother, of course).  I'm really happy for her.  I think it'll help her health immensely.

For that matter, not having to go to work every day would help my health immensely, too.  Mental health, that is.  I'm just so tired of my job.  It kinda sucks that I'm pretty much at the peak of where I can go in this line of work.  In order to really progress with a company, I'd need to switch tracks entirely, and though I'm not opposed to that, I just don't think I'm qualified to do so.  Besides, what I really want to do is own my own business, not slave away for someone else.  But at least I'm not to the point of spending large amounts of my paycheck on lottery tickets in the hopes of being able to retire early.  (And no, California's recent addition of MegaMillions hasn't made me any more inclined to go down that road.)

So one of the reasons I started doing this blog in the first place was so I'd have somewhere to write about things that weren't "big" enough to capture for posterity over in Cardigan's Corner of the Web.  I have three sections of that site that are updated on the first of every month, and every once in a while, I find that I'm writing about something that even I consider trivial.  So I figured that if I covered the trivialities here, I'd be forced to work on more significant articles for the monthly uploads.  Well, Friday is the first of July.  And I can't say that I've found anything really significant to write about for those pages.  And in the past couple weeks, I've gone well beyond trivia, here.

Guess this has really backfired on me, huh?

Maybe it’s just me, but I think there’s just something sick and wrong about the temperature being 75 degrees at 7:30 in the morning. That’s what it was on my drive to work this morning. Summer is most definitely here, though mercifully a bit later than usual. It’s supposed to hit 98 today, here in Sacramento. Triple digits can’t be too far away. I hate this weather. Granted, we don’t suffer from high humidity here, as I’m used to from Pennsylvania. That’s one of the things I most certainly do not miss from back home. I really need to live on the coast, somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. I don’t like temperature extremes. And I prefer it cooler than warmer. Ah, well. Maybe when I retire. If I’m ever able to.

I’d sacrifice a lot in order to be able to live up in my favorite vacation spot – Trinidad, California. It’s just gorgeous... right on the coast, but with redwoods that come out really close to the shore, too. Nice and cool, nice and quiet. But property is even more expensive than here, and jobs are few and far between. It’s a lovely place. One of these days, perhaps I’ll put up a page of photos of it. Lorelei has a gift for photography and has some stunning pics I could share. I’ll add that to my ever-growing list of projects.

So this Weight Watchers thing is working, it seems. I stepped on a scale today for the first time in… well, I’m not sure. Last time I was at the doctor’s office, whenever that was. I’ve been content to monitor my progress by how my clothes have been fitting, but I must say it was cool to see that my weight today was a good 25 pounds less than it was the last time I was weighed.

I may sweat off another pound on my way to the parking garage now…

I picked up Tristan's ashes today. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be.  Hey, it's been a week.  The worst is past.  I don't even get all choked up when people express their sympathy, anymore.

The ashes came in a nice little box, one nice enough to keep, but we'll get an urn to replace it.  I thanked the staff for the nice card they sent.  (Got another one today, from my friend Shannon.  Thanks, hon.)  Everything was fine until I got to the car.  There was a card with the boxed ashes.  It was from the crematorium.  There was just something about seeing his name and date of death printed on the card...  It was too much.  I just sat there in the car and bawled.

Lorelei got a bit weepy when she saw the box of ashes.  She said it's like she was still in some sort of denial until this point.  I guess I can relate to that.  Looking at that card was like seeing the obituary in the paper.  It had a sense of finality to it that nothing up to now had.  Hell, even taking his dead body to the vet for cremation didn't have that sense to it. 

What kind of sense does that make?  A corpse doesn't seem final, but a little printed card does?  Stupid.  And yet undeniably true.

Sometimes, the only thing that can cheer me up when I'm down is to go and spend a bunch of money. And I feel even better when I can get good deals for the dollars I blow. And better still when the stuff I buy is at least nominally necessary.

Case in point: our home computer. Now, it's getting on in years. It's nearly five, after all. Lately, we'd been having problems with it running more slowly than was acceptable. I did some long overdue diagnostics and realized the hard drive was nearly filled to capacity.

Isn't it just pathetic how we buy these computers and think, "Damn, I'll never fill up a hard drive that big!" Yeah, right. Mine's 40 Gb. I never imagined it would get filled. Anyway, it did. So off came all the photographs (burned onto CDs) and MP3s (just deleted). A few assorted programs were uninstalled. The combination here freed up about 12 Gb.

This was obviously a good thing, but didn't do a lot to speed things up. And that might have had something to do with the fact that the machine only had 256 Mb of RAM. So on Saturday, I picked up two 512 Mb chips out at Fry's. Now that made a difference!

Then yesterday I went to Circuit City and blew about $400. But for that I got a snazzy new photo printer ($150, with a $20 mail in rebate), a 7-port USB hub, a 512 Mb flash drive, and an 80 Gb external hard drive ($100, with at $60 mail in rebate! What a deal!).

All told, it's practically like having a whole new computer. The only thing I'd still like to do is upgrade the processor, but I'm not sure at this point what sort of upgrade my board will be able to handle. It may not be worth the investment.

Anyway, I'm quite pleased with the new gizmos. Lorelei will be tickled with the quality of this printer over our old one (which we bought before printers designed especially for printing photos were widely available. And she'll be much happier having her photos back on a hard drive, rather than CDs. Me, I'm just thrilled that I can open two programs simultaneously without the damn system taking two minutes to complete the process.

So Fantastic Four opens tomorrow. Today I read some of the reviews. Probably a mistake, really. I rarely agree with many critics, half of whom seem overly cynical of most films, and the other half of whom wouldn’t know a quality film if it fell on their heads. Nevertheless, when nearly all reviews say a film is pretty mediocre, they’re usually right. And if that holds true in this case, it will come as little surprise to me.

Fantastic Four was one of the first comic books that I collected on a regular basis. So there’s a deep affinity for those characters, and a tremendous desire to see it done well on the screen. But everything I’ve read over the years, of the difficulty in getting this film made, to problems with the scripts… Well, it never made me hopeful.

When Pixar came out with The Incredibles, I was (I must admit) a trifle annoyed. I thought it was a fun film, but writer Brad Bird really made it far too much like the F.F. The family had one who was big and strong, one who was elastic, and one who could turn invisible and cast force fields. That’s three-quarters of the team right there. Brad, come on! Have you no scruples? Have you no originality?

Anyway… I’m sure my kid brother and I will be talking about it over the weekend. Hopefully Lor will want to go see it tomorrow night. Of course, she always reminds me that the movies we go see are usually ones I pick. That may be true, but the movies we buy are usually the ones she picks. I don’t mean to say that this evens things out. And we do agree on the vast majority of them, in both cases.

Today was busy as all get-out at work. Lots of projects, some of whom came from people other than my two bosses. Lavish praise was heaped upon me by one of them, which is always nice, but sometimes embarrasses me.

One of the projects was to help out with a meeting, including the set-up of breakfast and lunch. And here I showed almost mind-boggling restraint. Because, you see, there were leftovers. Very yummy leftovers. Different sorts of bagels after breakfast. And after lunch, a tortellini salad, fruit salad, Caesar salad, brownies, and best of all – beer bread. Now, this last is truly decadent. It’s loaded with butter. It has a crunchy, salty, buttery crust, and a dense, almost cake-like interior. As you can imagine, it’s fattening beyond words. And my diet (if you want to call it that) is going well. I’ve lost another 1.5 pounds since last week, bringing my total to something like 23 pounds. (Lor is somewhere around 29.) So I used my superhero willpower... and walked away from the yumminess. I really could have had some, honestly. I didn’t have a latté today, so I’ve got “points” to spare. Ah, well. Maybe we’ll have something good for dinner.

I bumped into my buddy Trever in the lobby today, and suggested we get together to hang out sometime. He owns his own business (yes, I’m envious) and is quite busy, but his girlfriend will be out of town most of the weekend. And since Lor’s mom is here, I can probably get away without feeling like I’m abandoning her to the boredom of the house.

I hate feeling like that. Truth is, when we moved out here, we had no idea she’d be taking care of her grandmother for five years. We expected two years, maybe three at most, and then someone else would do it. But she loves doing it, so we stayed. It does make our social life virtually non-existent, though. We have to make arrangements for someone else to take care of Grams whenever we want to go on vacation. And though we used to go out on our own for short stretches, Lor doesn’t currently want to leave Grams alone at all. So we don’t. And yeah… after five years, it’s really beginning to wear on me.

Speaking of Grams, she had a very good day on Tuesday. Very lucid. She even asked me how I was doing and inquired about other family members. She hasn’t done that in months. I’m really glad L is here to see her mother in such better condition than last time.

Oh, I forgot to mention that we’ve chosen an urn for Tristan. It’s going to be custom made, carved from a redwood burl. How perfect is that?

So at work, we're all getting new monitors. I got mine yesterday. It's a 19" flat screen. I cannot get over how friggin' huge it is! I mean, looking at this page on it, for example, shows the column of entries right down the middle, with equal amounts of blank space on either side! It's scary! It's practically twice the size of the screen I'd been using up 'til then.

And speaking of big things, now that we've got the external hard drive, we can put music back on the computer. I'll have to re-rip it all, but this time I'll be more selective in what goes on there. And I'll also record it at a higher bit rate. I went way low last time, and the quality was crap. Not that I really listen to music a lot on the computer, but hell, maybe I would if it sounded better.

So the other day, I was relating to someone the story of how I came by the moniker of "Cardigan." And it got me to thinking about the other person who was instrumental in me acquiring the name - a poetry professor I had in college, John Haag. So I went looking for information about him online, and one of the entries I discovered was a page for a fellow who also studied under him, as well as another poet at our alma mater. So I decided to email him. We've had a nice exchange of emails. It's weird how that one mutual connection can form a bit of a bond between two strangers.

Man, it’s hot outside. Supposed to top 100 again. I got spoiled by several days of moderate weather. Now that the hot stuff’s back, I just don’t even want to go outside. But I wanted a coffee drink, so I braved sun stroke.

On the way, I pass by the IMAX theater. On the marquee, it says, “For Private Parties, Call Diane.” I wonder how many jokes she’s gotten about that. And no, I’m not going to print the number here for you. Get your cheap thrills elsewhere.

Anyway, I trekked over to 1011 12th Street Espresso Bar for a Cinnamon Milano latte. I noticed a new guy working there, but didn’t meet him. I chatted with the owner for a bit, then it was back into the heat.

I didn’t actually taste the latte until I was in the elevator of my building. And damn… it’s like a diabetic coma in a cup. Now, those who know me know that I like my coffee drinks on the sweet side, so for me to think one is too sweet must mean it’s ridiculously loaded with sugar. I had to tame it with some of the lame-ass coffee in our little kitchenette.

Speaking of espresso, our machine at home is dying. Makes me want to rescind the high marks I gave it on Amazon.com after we bought it, less than two freakin’ years ago. So I did a lot of reading online, comparing several machines, and finally settled on a particular Capresso model. We were going to just order it online, but according to the manufacturer’s web site, Williams-Sonoma stores carry it. So I call up the local W-S in the Roseville Galleria and inquire, then we drive up there to buy it. And that’s when we realize that the doofus on the phone didn’t know what he was talking about. They didn’t have it. Today I looked at Williams-Sonoma’s website - which I should’ve done yesterday - and they don’t even have that particular machine listed on there.

Still, we got a bunch of yummy smelling votives at the Yankee Candle store, so it wasn’t a total loss of a trip.

Ah, it’s nice to have the Cruiser back. I picked it up on Monday night, and it looks much better than when it went in.

And now it has a home of its own! We got the garage rearranged/cleaned out over the weekend and it now can actually be used to hold an automobile. T came over on Sunday and installed our garage door opener. (Thanks, buddy.) I would have done it myself, but… well, I’m largely incompetent with that sort of stuff.

Oh, and after days of playing phone tag with the police, I just gave up. What a bunch of idiots. And it’s not like they give a rat’s ass, anyway. 

Speaking of home improvements, we’ve been getting lots of quotes on various home repairs. Today a guy was over to give us an estimate on getting the ducts cleaned. After his inspection, he said that the ducts were in good shape, but they had never been sealed properly. Also, the vent over our stove apparently just dumps the smoke and whatnot right back into our ventilation system.

Neither Lor nor I were surprised by this. When the addition was put onto this house, they (and by that, I mean G and her husband, since she was still in control of the money back then) got the cheapest people they could to do the job. And what a shitty job it was.

We moved in about a year after the addition was done, and we found carpeting that was bunching up in the middle of the room, a ceiling that was sagging, a bathroom floor that was coming apart, etc. Just a ridiculous mess, and all because these are cheap bastards.

Anyway, we’re getting a lot of work done, and the house will be immensely improved because of it. In addition to the ductwork, we’re going to get the carpets replaced by laminate flooring, repairs to the fence, updated wiring, and so on. The house got a new roof and new paint job less than a year ago, too.

So every month at work, we hold an office-wide birthday party, celebrating the birthdays of all employees born in that month. Each month, certain other employees are designated to “host” this party, which entails providing the decorations, cake, and other stuff. The company pays for it all, of course, but we grunts do all the work.

This month, it was my group’s turn, again. One of my co-workers came up with a theme for the party, which was, “Where would you rather be?” We queried the seven July birthday boys & girls, and they gave us their responses. Some were typical: “The Ocean.” “Hawaii.” “Alaska.” Some were not unusual, but more specific: “Kauai.” “New Orleans.” “Mendocino.” And one was just a little more specific than necessary: “The Pacific Coast of Costa Rica.”

My task was to make nifty signs featuring these things. I dabble with graphic design (and how I wish I were good enough at it to do it for a living), so this was cool with me. I created fairly simplistic, but fun, signs using clip art and photographs. For example, for our guy who’d rather be in N’Awlins, I put some clip art of a jazz band, a trolley, a building in the French Quarter, and Mardis Gras participants. I also tossed in small photos of King’s Cake and a Hurricane. (The drink, not the storm.) All against a colorful background. For the woman who prefers Kauai, I included things like coconut palm trees, coffee plants, and of course, a tiny little Lilo & Stitch. Another co-worker, whose birthday was in May, asked me to do one for her (Ireland), just for fun. Anyway, tomorrow’s the party, so we’ll see how they all like them.

I admit I was surprised I didn't get the expected reply of "Anywhere but here."

I didn’t mention this in my last entry, but things were not entirely hunky dory when I got the Cruiser back from the body shop. Apparently, when the tech put on the new hood, he hooked up the hose for the wiper fluid backward. I had to take the car in one day after work so he could correct that mistake.

Then last night, I opened the hatchback for the first time since getting the car back, and noticed something sitting on top of the utility shelf. It was the molding from both front doors! I hadn’t even noticed that they weren’t re-installed on the doors. It’s amazing I even noticed the windshield was smashed in the first place.

Anyway, lucky me, I get to leave early from work so I can have them glue the pieces back on.

And speaking of leaving early, Boss A will be doing that today, too. One of her dogs has to have surgery for foxtail.

“What the hell is foxtail?” I asked.

Turns out it’s a plant that looks a bit like wheat. I’ve seen it on roadsides here and there. What happens, though, is that when the plant matures, the heads break off easily and the tiny seeds attach to things via microscopic barbs. Long-haired dogs, such as Boss A’s Gordon Setters, are especially prone to picking these things up.

But this is far more than just a groomer’s nightmare. Because of the shape of the barbs, these nasty things can actually penetrate the animal’s flesh, and even move deeper into the body, sometimes resulting in death, if they manage to travel to a vital organ.  Scary, huh? In my boss’s dog’s case, the foxtail entered in the paw.

Here are some pics of what this crap looks like: http://www.csupomona.edu/~jcclark/dogs/foxtails.html

And speaking of crap (while also getting back to vehicle news), today the SPCA claimed our donation of the “crap van of death,” otherwise known as Gramps’s old Plymouth Voyager. Not sure what year it was. ’87 or something. It still runs, but not very well. Glad it’s gone. Now we need to get Lorelei her own car! A purple VW bug would be good!

So I saw this nifty thing on someone else’s blog. You can check off the states you’ve visited, and it creates a map with them highlighted in red. (Why not blue?)

Here’s what my Visited States Map looks like (image has been reduced to fit in this narrow space; normally, it looks much nicer):

create your own visited states map

Interesting hole there in the middle of the country, huh?

Now, to be fair, many of the states painted red are ones I’ve only traveled through, but didn’t go there for a visit. Or, they were states I’ve gone to for a particular quick thing, then left. Like Connecticut, for example. I was there for a wedding. And only the wedding. When it was over, I left.

So if I delete all these states, and leave only the ones I’ve spent any kind of real time in, I’m left with this:

create your own visited states map

Much more realistic.

I know, you don’t care about this. But hey. I’m bored, and it was fun, in a weird sort of way.

A year or so ago, one of my co-workers relocated to Arkansas. We were just getting to know each other before he left, and I was only beginning to understand about his personal issues. In a nutshell, this was a guy who came from a Mormon family. He could trace his genealogy straight back to Joseph Smith. His wife, too, was heavily into LDS. They’d been together for about 20 years. But lately, he’d begun questioning things. There was strife in the marriage because of it, and the relocation was, I guess, part of the effort to come to some peaceful resolution with it all.

I saw him today. He’s back in the area, now divorced. It’s still pretty fresh, and not 100% “real” to him, yet. But I think he realizes this is for the best.

Naturally, I can empathize with him. My divorce was in ’98, but I remember how long it took to feel “real” to me. And I went through my religious questioning phase at about 20 years younger than he did, but still remember what an upheaval that is in one’s life.

He says his ex and he are on good terms. And I’m happy to hear that. My ex and I remained on good terms, too, although her current husband thinks I’m six kinds of loser, and mention of my name in their household allegedly leads to arguments. It’s been years since she and I have communicated. Last I heard, through the grapevine, they’d moved to the Chicago area.

I feel bad for people who have antagonistic relationships with their exes. Boss B is one such person. Seems there’s at least one blow up per month between them on the telephone here at work. I guess some people really do marry jerks, and it just takes a while to realize this about them.

Speaking of jerks, let me share something I heard about E. Seems she’s got a job at a department store, and for a while, had been having a friend of hers watch her three kids while she was working. She did not pay this friend, I’d like to point out.

After a time, the friend began to tire of this, as well she should have. Friendship is friendship, of course, but taking care of three kids without compensation on a regular basis is expecting a bit much of a friend, I think. And when the friend brought this up, E apparently said that if she was going to have to pay a sitter, she’d get someone else.

In the time since then, the friend has found herself on E’s shit list, effectively being shunned by this selfish little bitch.

Knowing her personality, I can assure you that E actually felt entitled to unlimited free child sitting services from this girl. Why? Because that’s how G raised her.

Consider, G is the person who pilfered thousands of dollars from her own mother, while in the position of trustee of her parents’ estate. Why? Because she felt like she deserved it. Because she feels as though she was her parents’ “favorite.”

This is a seriously messed up pair.

So I have this one co-worker who doesn’t seem to realize just how loud her voice is. Her office sits maybe a dozen feet from me, and her door is always open. This should paint you a clear picture of the acoustic situation in which I often find myself.

Today, she picked up her phone and after a moment of chit chat, this is what I heard: “Yeah, well, I’m trying that tampon thing.”

Go ahead. Read that again.

It took a moment, but I realized she was talking about her telephone, and one of the infrequently used features of the system. She said, of course, “camp on.”

I sent her an email, thanking her for the chuckle, and no doubt embarrassing her in the process.

Lorelei trimmed my hair over the weekend. It’s great having access to free haircuts. I’ve sure had more than my share, during my life. A former roommate of my sister used to cut my hair. Then, for a time, the girlfriend of my best friend’s brother. (Yeah, that was convoluted.) And now, my wife.

I’ve been plagued with thinning hair for quite a while. I’ve got a nice little bald spot on the crown. And yeah, this depresses me to no end. I used to have long, lustrous hair that many females would envy. When I first moved to California, my ponytail was something near ten inches long.

Today, my hair is probably the shortest it’s been since I was a toddler. But when there’s not much there, you can’t really afford to have the hair’s own mass weighing it down, making you look even balder.

Lor also convinced me to use “product” in my hair. (She says she’s going to turn me into a metrosexual, yet.) And I have to admit, the tiniest bit of gel worked carefully into my hair actually makes it look fuller.

Six people at work today commented on how good my hair looked. They’ve never (or rarely, anyway) taken any notice of this in the past. So I guess Lor’s right.

Again.

At any rate, I guess the day of shaving my head completely isn't as near as I'd feared.

Yep, one of my best friends is coming to town for his first trip to California. Brent and I met early in my college career. We grew up maybe 40 miles apart, back in northwestern Pennsylvania. And after college, we both ended up in the Philadelphia region. He’s still there, though I left in ’98.

I’ve got quite a week planned for us. He arrives Saturday, and we’ll probably hit a couple of the local brewpubs that night. On Sunday, we’ll see if I can talk him into going to the State Fair. I’ve been there twice, and will be there again on September 4, but that’s just to sit at a booth and sell books. It would be cool to actually do things for fun. Monday morning, we depart for Trinidad, returning on Thursday. Brent likes casinos (as do I), so we’ll probably visit the one in Trinidad. Maybe hit the one up at Clear Lake on the way back. And probably the one up in Rocklin one of the days he’s here. I’m sure he’ll enjoy Trinidad. And I know he’ll enjoy Lost Coast Brewery in Eureka. Who wouldn’t? Friday is the kickoff of Gold Rush Days in Old Sacramento, so we may visit that for a bit. And who knows what else?

He leaves the following Saturday, then I’m back at the Fair again on Sunday. Labor Day is Lorelei’s birthday, so I’m sure we’ll go out for dinner or something.

So how about that Pat Robertson, huh? Deciding that it’s in the U.S.’s best interests to assassinate the President of Venezuela. Such a nice Christian thing to say.

Oh, I’m sorry. Apparently, we “misinterpreted” what he said! On The 700 Club, he said, "I didn't say 'assassination.' I said our special forces should 'take him out.' And 'take him out' can be a number of things, including kidnapping; there are a number of ways to take out a dictator from power besides killing him. I was misinterpreted by the AP [Associated Press], but that happens all the time."

Yeah, Pat... It happens all the time because you keep pretending you didn’t say what you said. Because while the above statement is technically true, it ignores the fact that you also said, "If he thinks we're trying to assassinate him, I think we really ought to go ahead and do it." Seems pretty clear to me what you meant.

Let me also remind you of what you said about the 9/11 attacks: "I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say 'you helped this happen.'" Your pal Jerry Falwell agreed. Which just goes to show that damaged minds think alike. Of course, Falwell later “apologized” by saying, “"I would never blame any human being except the terrorists, and if I left that impression with gays or lesbians or anyone else, I apologize." Yeah. I think we got the impression correct. Falwell has his own way of playing with words. For a fun example of this, check out my pal Jerry’s blog entry at Project Tocsin.

Did we misinterpret what you said, then, about gays, pagans, and others? No. We didn’t. You said what you meant, and you meant what you said. Let’s face it, Pat. You’re just an asshole.

And since we’re on the topic of religious idiocy, how about the Seventh U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals? They ruled that Wisconsin prison officials were mistaken when they did not recognize atheism as a religion.

Um, Earth to the Seventh U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals: atheism isn’t a religion any more than not collecting Pokemon cards is a hobby.

Can some atheists be religious? Sure. Buddhists are essentially atheists, but also have a religion. But Buddhism is not the same as atheism. Taoism is also atheistic, but it is not the same as atheism. There are other examples, too. But the point is, there are things that we understand are inherent to anything we call a religion that atheism does not inherently contain. Thus, it’s pretty ignorant to call it such.

The attorney for the American Family Association's Center for Law & Policy called it “the height of idiocy.” I agree, but only for the reasons I just said. His reasons were because he didn’t feel that atheism should be granted the same protections as religion. I guess he doesn’t quite understand that “freedom of religion” must by its very definition also include “freedom from religion,” or else there isn’t any real freedom granted.

Now, I don’t know anything about the study group that the inmate at the prison wanted to start. Maybe the group had enough religious qualities to be considered a religion. I find that hard to imagine, but who knows?

Have I mentioned that we got new computer monitors here at the office not too long ago? Big, flatscreen, 19” monitors. They’re great. And y’know what looks great on them? Twin porn stars! Yeah, thanks to my pal Gary, who sent me such a photo in an email, they were right there in full color on my screen… just as Boss B walked by. Naturally, she saw them. “You might want to be careful with stuff like that,” she said. I agreed. At least they weren’t nude. They had their shirts up, and their hands over their breasts.

I just agreed and said nothing further. What would I have said if I wanted to? I would’ve said, “That’s a good point. So, hey… you remember a couple months ago, you forwarded me a humorous email from your Blackberry. Well, on a Blackberry, everything shows as plain text. Other things, like embedded images, become attachments. So when forwarding emails that you’ve received on your Blackberry, it’s also a good idea to make sure said attachments aren’t pictures of naked ladies.”

Well. So long since my last entry, and so much has happened. It’s almost difficult to know where to begin.

I could talk about Hurricane Katrina. But damn… what can I even say of such a tragedy? So I won’t try. (Except to say that Pat Robertson has again blamed homosexuals for somehow drawing the storm to shore, thus continuing my “Pat Robertson is an asshole” theme.)

But I will talk about another tragedy a little smaller in scale, but much closer to home.

If you read my August 12 entry, you’ll recall that I was anticipating becoming better friends with a former co-worker who’d relocated to Arkansas, then returned here to Sacramento. Well, that’s not going to happen, now. Yesterday, I attended his funeral.

David’s suicide was a shock to me, but evidently not terribly unexpected to others. He’d apparently tried it before, unsuccessfully, due to someone discovering him in the car with the hose running from the exhaust to the interior. This time, he took a more direct and messy route, but still did the deed in his car.

It’s very disturbing. Everyone near to him (and even some of us not so near to him) is wondering what, if anything, could’ve been done to prevent this horrible event. Likely the answer is nothing.

But try telling that to his teenage daughter.

Another loss… Bob Denver. Yeah, Gilligan’s Island was insipid, but dear to my heart in spite of that. Or perhaps because of it. A true television icon, Bob was. The world’s a sadder place without his goofy grin bringing joy to it.

In happier news, my visit from my pal Brent went quite nicely. It was great to have him out here for a week. He hated the drive up to Trinidad (I didn’t realize he hated long drives), but was awestruck by the redwoods, as I knew he would be.

I also learned that he’s not fond of heights. Trees of Mystery has a “skytrail” lift that carries passengers up to the peak. Yeah, he white-knuckled it the whole way up, and insisted on hiking the steep trail back down.

Ah, good times.

And now… Things That Make You Go “Duh!” (All from recent news items.)

”Production of Three-Parent Embryo Called ‘Immoral” by Many.” Oh, grow the fuck up, people.

Man. So much I need to do, and so little desire to do it. And I don’t mean just here at the office, although that’s probably the most pressing stuff. And it’s probably crucial that I get hopping on it, since there’s the chance I may not have much time to do it next week, since I got my summons for jury duty beginning Monday.

Normally, I wouldn’t care about that, and would be totally cool with sitting on a jury… but there are two major meetings coming up for which I have to prepare a lot of stuff. And since Bosses A & B haven’t yet gotten their part of the stuff to me, I can’t do anything with them, yet.

One of the major meetings is an annual conference, taking place in San Diego. Yes, I’ll be going to that. I’ve never been to San Diego, so I’m rather looking forward to the trip. Not that I’ll get to see much of the place; I’ll be too busy.  Still, it's somewhere new to me, and that's usually a good thing.

Speaking of trips, Lorelei is going to be taking one. She’s headed up to Portland, Oregon, to spend Halloween with some friends. I’m a little bummed by this, since I was hoping we’d actually have a Halloween party of our own, this year. But her friends up there put on a really big one, and she hasn’t seen them in years (they lived in Chicago up until fairly recently). So I really can’t begrudge her the trip. And hey... just because she's not going to be here doesn't mean I can't have my own party!  It just won't be quite as cool without her input.

And, of course, she ultimately wants to move up there to Portland to be near her friends. I can’t begrudge her that, either. I’ve always said that I want my life to be like FRIENDS on television, with my best buddies living very close to me. The coffee shop right downstairs would be nice, too.

So I hope she’ll do some scouting about, while she’s up there. I mean, I won’t really be ready to leave Sacramento for maybe another year and a half. But it’s good to start scoping!

And speaking of Halloween, I’ve evidently been drafted to come up with a decorative holiday theme for our corner of the office. WTF? Why me? No idea. Nor really, any inclination to do so. I may have to be a conscientious objector and avoid this draft.

Maybe it’s because I participate in stuff here. Like yesterday we had an office potluck. The “theme ingredient” (like we’re on Iron Chef) was squash. So I made a batch of Chocolate-Pumpkin Brownies with Chocolate and White Chocolate Chips, Walnuts & Pecans. They were a big hit. Enough so to garner me a prize! Two movie passes and a gift certificate for $10 for munchies or whatever. Sweet.

Some good news… My sister (who lives in North Carolina) will be in Oregon on business during the first week of December, so she’s going to come visit for a few days before going back! Yay! I don’t get to see her nearly often enough. Part of the drawbacks of living in California.

…and some bad news. My sister informed me that my cousin’s husband passed away last night. He’d been on dialysis and was waiting for a kidney.

Too much death, lately. I’m tired of it.

I spoke with my cousin today. Man, she sounded like hell. The fact that she had a cold didn’t help any, but she’s obviously in a state of shock, still. Her husband’s death was, she said repeatedly, totally unexpected.

There’s nothing a person can say at a time like this to make a grieving person feel any better, so I didn’t bother to try. I just told her that I’d been thinking about her a lot, and that she should call anytime she needed to talk.

Speaking of talking, Lor and I have been doing a lot of that, lately. It hasn’t all been pleasant. Throughout our entire relationship, we’ve had certain issues that poke their heads up every now and again, and they’re not issues with easy resolutions. I won’t go into them here, but we’ve accepted that there’s no way we can compromise on them without one party (or both) feeling resentful, eventually.

We’ve concluded that it’s time we stopped dancing around the issues, that we need to face the fact that we want different things from the future. And that maybe our futures don’t lie along the same paths.

It sucks. Plain and simple.

So Lorelei and I have, as hinted, agreed that we need to face the future on our own, rather than together. It’s… well, it’s a decision that I know is “right,” but it’s still playing fuck-all with my emotions. We’ve been together for almost eight years, married for more than five of them. It’s not easy to walk away from that.

Of course, that’s not what we’d be doing. Neither of us regrets our time together. We’ve both grown quite a bit as humans during that time, and we’ve had an awful lot of fun together. It never, thankfully, got to the point that many couples get to, where the bad times outnumber the good. Not even close to that point, really, and now we never will. That’s a good thing.

And we’ll remain friends. Lor has always been the type of person to remain friends with her former boyfriends, so hopefully she’ll apply that to her future former spouse, too.

For the time being, we’re still living in the same house. It’s awkward for her, because she’s having a hard time making that transition from spouse to just friend. I can respect that.

We look at so many things in different ways, and the breakup is one of them. Her perspective is, “We’re going to be going our separate ways. You’re going to be getting your own place, and after Grandma passes, I’m going to move to Portland. It’s inevitable. So why put it off?” Whereas, my perspective is, “Yes, we’re going our separate ways. There’s going to come a time when we will not be a regular presence in each other’s lives. That’s going to be very hard to adjust to. So, why hurry it? Why can’t we enjoy each other’s friendship (which is now and has always been very good) for as long as we can, until we’re forced to separate?”

Very different perspectives, huh? Well, it’s like the Band-Aid thing. Some, like Lor, prefer to rip it off, suffering intense, but brief, pain. Others, like me, are more prone to peeling it off, suffering prolonged, but comparatively minor, pain.

Anyway, for the time being, we’re trying it “my way.” I’m doing my best to minimize any awkwardness by not spending too much time with her. I leave for work before she gets up. I don’t call her during the day unless it’s important. And aside from catching up on our respective days and having dinner together, we generally don’t interact much in the evenings. (I know, that’s a typical marriage for lots of people.)

This weekend, I plan to be out of the house a lot. I’ve got a lot of work to do, and some of it can be done away from Mr. Computer, so I’ll go to the library or something. The week after next, her mother is in town. And that will be awkward. However, I’m away from the night of the 4th to the night of the 7th, so that will minimize things.

Only time will tell if this can and will work for us. I really hope so. Because even spending this little bit of time with her is overwhelmingly better than not being with her at all.

I found out that my sister will not be coming to visit in December. Her trip was pushed back until April. Just as well. Who’s to say where I’ll be living, come December?

Truth is, if the roommate situation with Lor doesn’t work out, I’ll have to find a place soon. And if I do, I’ll be hard pressed to afford a place of my own. I may even have to share a place with people I don’t even know.

Not an enticing prospect for a guy in his early 40s.

Yesterday was a fun day. I had jury duty. (Which figures, since yesterday Boss A had a big meeting here, and normally, I do all kinds of stuff for that, including taking the minutes.) Anyway, I was in the first batch of names called for a trial. Further, I was in the first batch of names to be sent to “the box.” So by 9:30, I was sitting with 19 other potential jurors, undergoing what proved to be an arduously long selection process.

And I so did not want to get picked, because this was a criminal trial, expected to last for a month! I couldn’t do a month! I’ve got Boss B’s annual conference in two weeks! In San Diego!

By two o’clock (!) half a dozen or so potential jurors were excused. More were called up from the pool to fill in. Then the second round of questions began. That finished at 3:30. Having not been excused in the first round, I was resigned to being chosen to serve. And yet, after the second group was questioned, the defense excused me!

I was shocked! And pleased!

I wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that I often just looked at the accused, so that he noticed it every time he glanced up at the juror’s box. Or that, when I passed by him in the hallway during a recess, I took an extra step out of his way.

Isn’t psychology fun?

As indicated, I've been spending the majority of my time out of the house.  Last night, I picked up dinner on the way home, as Lor wasn't feeling well.  After eating, and answering the day's emails, I went out to The Corner Pocket, a local bar/poolroom where Lor's cousin D works on Fridays as a cocktail waitress.  I hung out there for a couple hours.  Had a couple glasses of Guinness (about the only beer they have worth drinking), and just generally occupied space.  Returned home, spent more time on the computer, then went to bed.

Today, I got up around ten, showered, and had a cup of coffee.  Lor needed to run to the store, so I futzed around online for a while.  Had a bite of lunch with her when she returned (leftovers from last night's Mexican food).  Then around one o'clock, I headed to the library.

There, I worked for two solid hours on my classes.  I'd been accumulating magazine articles for the past five months, but needed to actually read the articles and highlight the relevant material worth teaching, so I can incorporate it into the classes.  I had something like two dozen articles, which is why it took so long.

After that, I stopped by the house just long enough to drop off my briefcase and make sure Lor didn't need to run any further errands.  Then it was off to It's a Grind for more caffeine and some reading.  Over two lattes, I read the last three issues of Loving More magazine, one of which just arrived recently, the other two having been sitting in my "must read" pile for some time.  It's a quarterly magazine, which should give you a clue as to how far behind I am on my reading.  (I won't even hint at how far behind I am on Freethought Today, but it's considerably longer.)

Around six o'clock or so, I left there and headed into town.  Last week, I placed an ad on craigslist, hoping to make some new friends (yes, just friends), since I have a relatively small supply of those here.  Joe was one of those who replied, and we'd exchanged several emails.  We'd planned to meet at Brew it Up at seven-thirty and have a couple beers.

I was quite early for this, so I stopped at Tower Books on the way, where I picked up the latest issue of Communities magazine, browsed the new releases, and wondered why my latest book wasn't in their fiction section.  Well, I thought, perhaps it's in the "local authors" section.  Except I couldn't find that particular section.  It was only when  I was at the checkout, waiting for my change, that I saw it.  The "local authors" table, which is frankly pretty fucking pathetic.  It's a tiny little table, away from the regular book part of the store.  I suppose it's nice in principle to have such a thing, but it's lousy from a sales perspective.  I'll have to "relocate" a copy or two, next time I'm in.  I would have done so tonight, but would have felt odd walking back into the store proper after I'd made my purchase.

On to the brewpub.  Joe and I spent a couple hours talking.  Mostly (appropriately enough) about beer.  Now, if you'd told me just a few years ago that I'd be able to hold my own in a lengthy conversation about beer styles and brewpubs, I'd have said you were on crack.  This is because I swore off alcohol completely when I was eighteen and never touched a drop again until I was almost thirty-nine.  (And no, it wasn't because I had any sort of drinking problem.  I'd never even once been drunk.)  I honestly never expected to drink again, but hey... a lot of my expectations turn out to be wrong.  (Obviously.)  Anyway, it was enjoyable, though I rather doubt he and I will ever become close friends.  (Though weirder things have happened to me in the friendship arena.)

We left there at about ten-fifteen, and I still didn't want to go home.  I'd spoken to T earlier, and he said he and D would probably be at The Corner Pocket tonight.  So I went from brewpub to bar.  I was there until about midnight, and my departure then was only partly because T had set the jukebox to play a whole bunch of country music.

No, I just wanted to go home.  As much as this place feels like home, anymore.  But really, it doesn't.  Home is where the heart is, they say.  And my heart...  Well, it's sort of in limbo right now.  I'm still living with my wife.  But I miss her.  I miss "us."  And that's something that will never exist again, as it once was.  One day, I hope, we'll have a true friendship.  But that day is a long way off, I suspect.  And right now, I just feel like half a person.  Maybe she's right.  Maybe the best thing to do is move out sooner than I'd like.  I need to regain independence just as much as she does.  It'll be hard, emotionally and financially, but it's probably for the best.

Anyone looking for a roommate?

Today I looked at potential living arrangements. I’ll ruin the suspense for you by saying up front that it just doesn’t look good.

My first stop was a house owned by an older Japanese lady. The house was nice enough, as was she. But the “master bedroom” proved to be ridiculously small. I don’t care that it had its own bathroom; there’s no way I could’ve managed a bed, a computer desk, a dresser, and a bookcase in there. Not if I still wanted to be able to stand in the room.

Second stop, a duplex in the same general area, only about a mile away. This was a two-bedroom unit being rented by a student of Middle Eastern descent. (Don’t ask me which flavor.) The place was clearly newer than the home I’d just looked at. Very clean. He asked me to remove my shoes upon entering. I’m not crazy about “no shoes on the carpet” policy, but I could live with it. But y’know what I can’t live with? Complete neat freaks. This guy had plastic covers on the upholstered seats of the dining room chairs. It looked awful, because this wasn’t factory-installed plastic protection; it was loose and baggy on the seats… just ugly. The table was on the plain side, too. Nothing fancy, just straight legs and rectangular top. Not new. Not even attractive. But that didn’t stop this guy from having a big sheet of heavy-gauge clear plastic over it for protection. Freak. Oh, yeah. The room in this place was just as puny.

I returned home after this, somewhat dejected, but now convinced that I can’t have just a room in someone else’s abode. I’m not against the idea of having a roommate, but it’ll have to be on my terms, not someone else’s. I have far too much crap to try to cram myself and all of it into a shoebox.

So when I got back, I started looking at apartments, rather than rooms to let. I focused on downtown/midtown Sacramento, figuring that if I have to shell out a bunch of cash for rent every month, I should try to minimize the amount of cash I’m pumping into my car’s gas tank. And at nearly three bucks a gallon, it’s adding up pretty quickly lately. Having a place five minutes from work is a lot better than half an hour’s drive.

I found a couple ads that sounded promising. I called one, and as it turns out, she said she had two different facilities that she managed. I drove down and met her at the first one.

It was… well… how do I put this? It’s a place that, under normal circumstances, I’d never even consider as a possible place to live. I just wouldn’t. It’s not a festering shit-hole, but it’s not even what I’d call “decent.” On the other hand, it was in midtown, and it would be all mine. Still small, though, but probably workable. The other place she managed? I never went to see it, since she said that this place was “40 times nicer” than the other. Um, okay. I’ll avoid the other, then, thank you.

But once returning home, I really had my doubts about it. It would still be very cramped, honestly. Could I make it work? Probably. Would I be miserable there? Probably. I accepted an application to fill out, but the idea of signing a year-long lease at that place rather turns my stomach.

I think I’ll keep looking. And maybe look for a larger place, and take the risk of finding my own roommates for it.

I’m glad I’m not under pressure to make these arrangements quickly. That’s about my only bright spot in all this.

I’ve been giving a lot of thought over the past many months to my long-standing online activities. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about Cardigan’s Corner of the Web. It’s been online since early ’96, which means that its 10th Anniversary is approaching.

I’m still struggling between revamping the site completely… chopping it down to the basics, getting rid of some dead sections, etc…. or ending it entirely.

I know… drastic choices.

There are in the neighborhood of 400 articles on that site. This blows my mind. And it makes me tired just to think about it.

In some ways, that site has ruled my life for the past decade. When I started, I had two columns I updated on the first of each month. Later, I added the first version of Sage’s Scribbles… which weren’t called blogs back then, but online diaries. I updated it daily. I did that for nine months, and there were actually times when I would get up out of bed in order to post, because I suddenly realized I’d forgotten to. I know, it was a sickness. Later still, The Atheist Attic was added to it. For the longest time, it had a new article every week. Then bi-weekly. Now monthly.

I really am tiring of it. But at the same time, I care a lot about it. So I wonder if revitalizing it would make me excited about it again, because in truth, it hasn’t excited me for a long time.

And then there’s the other question… of whether I need to have two separate lives online. When I first adopted the Cardigan persona, there was no indication of who I really was, or even what gender I was. I often had people assuming I was female, mainly because I was espousing views that weren’t “typical male” views. But these days, it’s easy to link Cardigan with my real self. And now that self has a web presence, too, one that’s growing all the time. So should I just merge ‘em, once and for all? Or should I take greater pains to keep the two separate, up to and including anonymizing Cardigan again?

I’m open to suggestions, folks…

Well, I looked at more places to live after work today.  (I'm writing this at 9:50 P.M. my time, but I think the calendar will post this under tomorrow's date, due to the time difference.)  One was a one-bedroom apartment in midtown.  I liked the location, really.  Only a couple blocks from Weatherstone, a coffee shop I like.  But good gravy... it was so tiny.  The kitchen, for example... if you opened the door of the fridge, it pretty much collided with the counter on the opposite side.  It was that cramped.  It was also a little bit slummy.  And let's face it, I may be reduced to that.

The other was a room in a house.  A very nice house, out in Arden Arcade.  I mean, the inside was probably too nice for my tastes.  And again, it was a no-shoes-on-the-carpet policy.  I'm fine with that in other peoples' homes, but if I'm living there, I can't handle that.  Also, the place was too pricey for me, even with all utilities, cable, and internet included.

But more than that...  I realized I don't want to live out in Arden Arcade.  Why?  Because it's not where things are happening.  I've been living in nowheresville for too long.  Maybe it's this idiotic mid-life crisis I'm going through, but I need to feel young again.  Vibrant.  Alive.  A posh house in a "safe" neighborhood won't do that for me.  But maybe a time in a cramped little place in a neighborhood with plenty of homeless people might do that.

Or maybe I'm just rationalizing.

Either way, I've become certain of one thing.  I need my own place.  Not that I'm opposed to getting a two- or three-bedroom unit and having a roommate.  But it needs to be my place.  Not someone else's house that I'm taking a room in.  Hell, I've been doing that for the past 5 years, really.  I'm sick of it.

It's all part of regaining my independence.

Lor and I got along very well tonight. We watched some of Napoleon Dynamite together (insipid movie, but I didn't care). Then I gave her a back massage. She's had a lot of lower back pain lately, so I got some of the knots out.

It was encouraging. We were acting like friends. And that's definitely a step in the right direction.

Looks like I’ll have a new boss pretty soon. Boss B has accepted another position with a related organization. She’ll still be located in our offices, but not as a direct employee. Her first day in the new position is 10/13. So next week’s annual conference will be her big good-bye, I guess. She’s been great to work with. I hope her replacement is one I’ll get along with.

Our company is also considering the creation of some new positions here, beginning early next year. My bosses have pitched the idea to the company prez that I should be the one to do one of the particular jobs. I don’t know just how receptive he was to the idea, but they said he claimed to be open to the concept. I’m not holding my breath on that one, but if it does happen, it should be a significant promotion. Time will tell.

Lorelei’s going through some stuff right now that I don’t feel comfortable discussing online. It’s not specifically about our separation, though. Yesterday was a day of some concern, as she “bottomed out.” I went home early to help her get back on her feet. And it went pretty well. D came over to help out, too.

Her mom is coming to town for a week, arriving Monday. That should help, too.

One good thing that’s come of this: our friendship now feels solid again. She knows I’m always going to be her friend, and that one way or another, things are going to be okay. I told her I don’t think she’s ready to be on her own just yet, and she apparently agreed. She said that I don’t have to move out until she does. So I guess I have a little while, yet, before I have to live in squalor.

Tomorrow begins my long week of madness. I’ll be up in Placerville at the Gold Country Herb Fair. I’ll be selling some of Lor’s great bodycare products, as well as some things of my own.

On Tuesday, I fly down to San Diego for the aforementioned annual conference. I get back Friday night.

On Saturday the 8th, I’m back in Placerville for the Harvest Moon Festival, again selling Lor’s products, plus those other things of mine. I’m also one of their featured speakers.

The following day, I’ll be in Old Sacramento for Freethought Day. This time, not with her products. Just with mine.

Busy! And how’s that for merging my “other” life into this blog?

So much is going on that I don’t even know where to begin.

Lorelei’s problem reached a head over the last few days. Both Thursday and Friday nights were very bad, but by Friday night, things seemed stable. It’s been very stressful for her, and yeah, for me, too. I mean, I’m glad that I can be a friend to her during this whole thing, but it’s a bit draining to come home after a long day at the office and have to be a pillar of support all night.

Her mom arrived yesterday, so at least I don’t have to worry about much while I’m in San Diego. Of course, the worst of it is past, I think.

Sunday night, Lor went out with D & T, while I stayed with Grams. I rather figured that she’d drink too much, and she certainly did. I got a call at 1:00 in the morning; she was too drunk to drive home. So I didn’t get a lot of sleep that night.

Some of the drinking took place at a strip club, where Lor received her very first lapdance. I think she quite enjoyed that!

Saturday morning I went up to Placerville for the herb fair. It started at 10:00, but I was set up by 9:00, and wondering what the hell I was doing there. Lor had planned to make a bunch of her body care products, but given everything she’s been going through, only managed to produce some lip balm and some comfrey & calendula salve.

So I’m sitting there, taping down all my signs and whatnot because it’s windy, with one table with nothing but two products on it, and another table full of books that aren’t exactly related to herbology. And of course, I’m concerned about Lor, too.

By 11:15, I was sick of the wind, hadn’t sold a damn thing, and decided to pack it in. As I was doing so, I got a call from home. Lor was doing bad again, so that just confirmed my resolve.

What a waste of a morning, not to mention 70 miles worth of gasoline.

Speaking of Grams, I don’t think she has much longer to go. She’s pretty much not eating or drinking anything. Her breathing is irregular. Wouldn’t surprise me a bit if I get a call while I’m in San Diego saying that she’s passed.

I know it’s been a long time coming, and we’ve known for a while that she probably wouldn’t make it through the year. But Grams… all things considered, this is pretty crappy timing.

I am glad, though, that L is here. She should be present when her mom goes.

Off to San Diego tonight. I definitely have a love/hate relationship with business travel. On the one hand, it’s great to see a place you’ve never been before. On the other hand, the vast majority of my time will be inside a hotel. On the one hand, it’s great to be out of the office. On the other hand, I’ll be all next week catching up on the work that’ll pile up between tomorrow and Friday.

Ah, well. Like all things in life, you’ve got to take the good with the bad.

Of course, it's after midnight, so it's not so sunny at the moment.

I got to the hotel at 10:30 this evening. It was a great flight. Meaning: not crowded (less than 1/4 capacity), no screaming children, and we arrived a few minutes ahead of schedule. Also, my bag was the first one off the luggage carousel!

Had a very cute flight attendant named Mandy. I, of course, had to mention the 10cc song "I'm Mandy, Fly Me." She'd never heard of the group, or the song, which of course, made me feel archaic.

Then again, I keep telling people that age has nothing to do with what music you're familiar with. Case in point, Lisa over at the Espresso Bar is 19. And yet, she knew who sang the 70s hit, "Hitchin' a Ride." (Vanity Fair, in case you were wondering.) Not only did that impress the hell out of me, but it made me feel less archaic.

Anyway, Mandy said she'd try to locate it. Said she's tired of hearing people sing Barry Manilow to her.

Speaking of music, lately I've been doing themed selections of CDs in my car. My carrier holds a dozen discs, which usually lasts me at least a week. So I've been selecting them according to themes. For example, one week it was nothing but "greatest hits" discs. Another week, it was all soundtracks. Once, I did CDs of albums that I bought when they were first released, during my middle college years. That was pretty nostalgia inducing. And so is this week's selection: first albums purchased by major bands. In other words, the albums that got me into their music. Like today, for example, I listened to Alice Cooper's From the Inside album. I still shake my head, knowing that it was my late mother... the Jehovah's Witness... who turned me on to that album.

Anyway... I didn't have dinner before going to the airport tonight. I should have, of course, because by the time I got to the hotel, room service was no longer delivering. ("All Day Selections" my ass.)

The hotel's bar was closed, and they didn't even have a gift/sundries shop.  (Lame-ass excuse for a "resort" hotel.)

I ended up walking a couple blocks to a grocery store, where I purchased a bottle of water, a tub of fresh pineapple chunks, and a gross ham sub that had been sitting in the deli case since who-knows-when. I chowed down on all that (and of course the yummy Doubletree cookie) while reading emails. And here it is going on 12:30.

Oh, I did nearly get killed while coming back from the store, too. I was crossing the boulevard, and I noticed a van coming down the hill toward me. Gee, I thought... he doesn't look like he's going to stop. (The traffic light was solid red.) So I stopped in the middle of the road, near the tiny median strip. Good thing, too. He didn't even slow the fuck down. Had I kept walking, I could've been Cardigan kibble all over the road.

Well... on that picturesque note, I'm off.

My friends are consistently dumbstruck when I tell them of the ongoing drama in my life. It's truly mind-boggling, and if I weren't so opposed to saying things that might be hurtful to those I care about, I'd lay it all out for you, here.

Suffice to say that part of the drama is that I am back to looking for an apartment, again. And tonight, I think I may have found one that's not a festering shit-hole!

Actually, it's really great. It's a one-bedroom unit of decent size. It has nice bay windows in the living and dining areas. Big closets. Security system, too. It's right at the upper end of what I can afford, so I don't really have any "cushion" left afterward. That's unfortunate. But I've come to the conclusion that there simply aren't any nice apartments for less money in downtown Sacramento.

And that's right where this is. It's about eight blocks from my current job, but hey... that's still walking distance! The money I'll save on gasoline will be impressive. Ironically, it's only one block from my last job. And that might be a tad bit uncomfortable for me. I still have some negative feelings over being let go from that place. Not that I don't understand why my position was eliminated; I do. But I was just handed my walking papers at the end of a day, with no advance warning whatsoever. It's been over two years, but still... Well, it's easy enough to walk to work without going past the previous employer. And besides, it's such a great apartment, I wouldn't care if it were right next to my old employer's building.

Of course, even with the nice size, I'm almost certainly going to have to put some things in storage. So there's another monthly expense I need to figure in.

One of my worries, though, is the stairs. The apartment is on the second floor, and the stairs are quite narrow. I'm really curious as to how I'll be getting a sofa up and into the unit.

Whatever. I'm actually excited about this place. It's the first unit I've looked at that hasn't depressed me.

So let me tell you how brain dead I am, today. At 9:30 this morning, Boss A and I went over to the Espresso Bar for coffee and to play catch-up. (Remember, I was with Boss B in San Diego most of last week.) Well, it turns out the Espresso Bar was closed for Columbus Day. (Most of their clientele isn't at work today.)

Sometime over the ensuing 90 minutes, this fact left my brain completely. Because at 11:15, I walked over there to talk to Lisa. Talk about a Duh moment.

Anyway, the reason I wanted to see Lisa was to tell her we needed to go on a road trip. She has the ultimate goal to move to Berkeley one of these years, and as it happens, I just learned about Amoeba Music, which has a store in Berkeley. This place is wholly independent, and evidently bigger than an independent store has any right to be. My kinda place!

Of course, I have no idea how I'm going to afford any music for the next 20 months or so. (That's how many more car payments I've got until the PT Cruiser is entirely mine.)

So this was (aside from the drama on the home front) a really cool weekend. Saturday I was at the Harvest Moon Festival. Man, I love pagan gatherings. They're just so much fun. I ended up going out to dinner afterward with someone I met there. We shared divorce stories along with the nachos.

On Sunday, I was at the fourth annual Freethought Day, which wasn't as much fun, but still a good time. Of course, being able to chat periodically with a very sweet (and utterly stunning) redhead was certainly a highlight. We're allegedly to have coffee together at The Naked Lounge one of these days. I say "allegedly" because... in classic Cardigan fashion... I didn't push the issue enough to nail down an actual date and time. Nor did I get her phone number or email (she was only there half a day, and left while I was away getting some bottled water). She has my email, though, so hopefully she'll contact me. (Yes, I know I'm a dork. I guess I was just so stunned that she said "yes" that all logical thought just ceased.)

One of the things that is unfortunate, I think (with the wisdom of hindsight), is that I never really dated in my life. I went from one serious relationship to another, with no "recovery" time in between. I never took the time to "find myself" again.

Well, I'm pretty much sworn off of serious relationships for a long time. I do want to date; I just don't want anything heavy. I want to meet a lot of people, make friends with a lot of people, and generally just enjoy the kind of freedom I haven't had since moving to Sacramento, due to our living arrangement.

Cardigan wants to come out to play!

Well, the day is finally here. Grams passed away this morning. Entirely expected, of course, but still… you’re never really ready to face it.

If it had happened two months ago, I would have high-tailed it home to be with Lor and her family. But given recent events, I didn’t feel it was necessary, or even a good idea. I’m teaching tonight, too, so I won’t even get home until late.

I’m due three days of bereavement leave due to this. I’m considering using them next Wednesday through Friday. Boss A will also be out during those days, and Boss B… well, she won’t be my boss any longer at that point. As for what I’ll do, I think I’d like to get away for a while. I don’t know if Lor’s folks will still be in town then or not. I don’t want to leave Lor alone, but I need a bit of a breather. The stress of the past month or so has really worked me over. I’m constantly on edge. I need to decompress.

It looks like I’ll be out on my own permanently soon enough. But getting away for a while before that happens can’t be a bad idea.

Yay! I got the apartment! As of November 1, I will officially live in midtown Sacramento.

One of my coworkers said she could see me being the type to hang out at the street cafés and coffee shops, watching people, and working on my books. Damn skippy! That’s exactly what it’s gonna be like for me!

Now for the tricky part: finding someone to help me carry furniture up a flight of stairs!

Well, I made my decision... I'm definitely taking a trip. I just booked a cottage in Guerneville, CA, for four nights, beginning next Wednesday. I've been there once before. Lor and I spent out first anniversary there. It's a cute little town. Very open-minded. I liked it a lot, so that's where I'm going. (But only because Trinidad is more of a drive than I really want to make right now.)

It'll be a bit strange. I've traveled alone over the past couple years, but only for business purposes, and not very often. This will, I imagine, feel a little bit "wrong," to be on vacation without Lor. And likewise, it's going to be weird for her, because her family (arriving tonight and tomorrow night for the funeral) will all be gone by Tuesday evening. She'll be alone in the house (really alone, with Grams gone) for the first time. So it's something we'll both need to get used to.

I've been divorced before. It was a very unhappy time, but one of the things that wasn't too tough was dealing with the fact that I'd probably never see her family again. It wasn't hard, because I never really felt like part of that family. I never truly felt welcome in their home. In some ways, it was a relief to know that I wouldn't have to feign being happy to see them.

My current situation, though, is the exact opposite. Lor's family is great. I love the whole big bunch of 'em.

The majority of the family was here for Grams's wake, yesterday. Her sister and most of her brood had to go back today. That was rough. Two of Lor's sister's kids were with her... the two I've always felt closest to... and saying good-bye to them about ripped my heart out. They're great girls, and I hope we stay in touch.

One of her brothers also left today, and although he and I don't have a whole lot in common, I've grown more and more fond of him as the years went on. Her other brother leaves tomorrow night, and her mom and step-dad the next day.

I've been told in no uncertain terms that her family members are not "writing me off." They say I'll always be part of their family. But I'm sure it'll change from being their son/brother-in-law to being something more like a distant cousin that they never see. It's inevitable, and probably "right." But it still hurts.

And it turns out that Lor won't be by herself while I'm gone. Her boyfriend is here.

Yeah... that's one of the many things about this current situation that I've not shared in this forum before.

There's another guy in her life, and it's... well, it's complicated.

I'm not very comfortable with the situation, but not for the reasons the average visitor here might think. And I'm not comfortable in talking about those reasons, so I guess I'm just putting that tidbit out there for the sake of it.

The more I think about the relocation, the more I realize I'm going to need. I need to acquire a bed, a dining set, etc. And I have to be honest... I'm having serious doubts about being able to afford the apartment I rented. My budget is such that things are going to be super tight, and if my supplemental income from teaching happens to falter, I could be in deep dung.

Yes, I realize I'm blowing a bunch of money next week by going away for four nights. But - again, being honest - I need to be away from here for a while. Especially now that "the other guy" is here. It'll be less awkward for both of us. So I consider it money well spent.

I've been sort of tentatively exploring the dating potential around here. It's weird for me, though, because I've never really dated. I could count the number of actual dates I've had in my life on one hand, and I can only think of one person I ever dated more than once. By the second or third date, it was abundantly clear that she and I would only ever be friends, and now she's married to one of my closest friends back home.

And despite all the "horror stories" I've heard from others, about how awful the dating scene is... I really regret never having experienced it more than superficially. I think it's all in one's attitude. If you're in the dating arena looking for Mr./Ms. Perfect, it's certainly going to frustrate you when you don't quickly find that person. But I'm entering the dating arena only looking to have some fun, meet some new people, and with the attitude that there's no such thing as Mr./Ms. Perfect.

Hopefully, it'll be an enjoyable process.

So today I did something that I don’t think I ever expected to do. I sent an email to an old friend. Or I should say “former” friend.

Paul and I were super-close friends for a while, back in Pennsylvania. We even sometimes thought of ourselves as brothers from different mothers.

But our friendship ended abruptly, almost exactly eight years ago. I made some mistakes, and he held some misconceptions about me… For all I know, he still does.

I found an email address that I think is still good for him. We’ll see if it bounces back.

Another friend, Tyler, turned his back on me, around the same time period. I was never really sure why. (Unlike with Paul.) In some ways, that one hurt even more, because we’d been friends for a lot longer.

I don’t have an email address for him, and honestly, I’m not sure what I’d say to him. At least with Paul, I know why he shunned me. With Ty, it was always very ambiguous to me. I always figured a lot of it had to do with his wife (whom he met through me, in fact). She always had a love/hate thing for me, and I guess at one point the scales just tipped in favor of hate. And I guess I’ll just leave the ball in his court. I mean, if he had any desire to reconnect with me, I’m pretty freakin’ easy to find online. Just type in my name, and it’s hits out the wazoo. (And Ty, if by some weird chance you’re reading this, go ahead and email me.)

Coincidentally, Paul also met his wife through me. Because she was my wife at the time. I half expect his reply to me to be on the order of “Fuck off and die.” But I hope not.

Divorce sucks, on a rather impressive variety of levels. At the moment, I’m thinking primarily of financially.

I’m not used to paying rent, damn it. I haven’t paid rent in five years. And if the truth be told, I became rather accustomed to that, and of living a lifestyle wherein rent wasn’t a factor. All that is changing, now.

Needing money, I took a loan against my 401(k). (Hey, if I’m gonna pay interest on a loan, I like the idea of paying it to myself.) But that’s not much money, really, so I also applied for a personal revolving line of credit. And I got it.

It is, however, damn near usury. It’s like 27% interest. Fortunately, I doubt I’ll need to use more than a fraction of what I’ve been approved for. I’ll pay it back quickly, and at that interest rate, it’s unlikely that I’ll be tempted to go on a CD buying spree using the money.

Lor’s in a depressed mood today. Yesterday, I wrote of my history with friends deciding not to be my friend anymore. Well, she’s experiencing it now.

I’m not going to go into much detail, since (again) this involves things that she’s going through, and it’s not really my place to talk about it. But a long-time friend of hers has apparently decided that Lor has made some very bad decisions and therefore is not deserving of being his friend.

I’d like to slap him, honestly. This is the kind of shitheadedness that drives me nuts. This is an example of a person who doesn’t understand the definition of “friendship.” If Lor is, in fact, making some bad decisions, well… that’s how it goes, sometimes. We all do it. Some of us more than others, but no one always makes the right choices in life. His sanctimonious attitude toward her is irritating.

But I’m washing my hands of him. I’ve already verbally chastised him about this once, a couple weeks ago. I’m not going to do it again. Frankly, Lor’s probably better off without him. As the saying goes, “With friends like these…”

Still, that’s small comfort to her right now.

Tomorrow I leave for Guerneville, for my much needed, eagerly anticipated decompression vacation. I need it bad.

Decompression, that is. Not… um… “it.”

Which isn’t to say that “it” would be unwelcome. Nor would female companionship of any sort.

Don’t misunderstand… I’m really looking forward to living alone, to finding myself again, to (let’s be honest) being single.

But that doesn’t mean I want to be a hermit. Or chaste.

Yes, I have occasionally perused the personals ads locally. Hey, why not? I’m not looking to find wife number three. I’m not even looking for a steady girlfriend. But something casual? Sure. Friendship, definitely. With benefits? Super!

Truthfully, there are one or two ladies I already know that I find attractive on more than one level. But I don’t think they would be amenable to any sort of amorous pursuit by me, so I’ll just keep my thoughts to myself.

Well, here I am in Guerneville. I got here around 1:30 this afternoon. I have no ‘net connectivity in my cottage, but Coffee Bazaar has wi-fi access. I suspect I’ll be spending a good deal of time here.

After getting settled in, I went for a walk around town. My first stop was for food, since I’d had neither breakfast nor lunch. I got a couple slices of truly awful pizza and a Coke.

Then I browsed through some stores in town, including a bookstore that was much smaller than I remember it being from my last trip here, four years ago. There’s a Safeway a block from my rental, so I went there before coming back here.

What did I buy, you ask? What does Cardigan stock a rental cottage with, for a four-night stay? Provolone cheese, “light” dry salami, bottled water, Ry-Krisp crackers, caramel flavored mini rice cakes, small cans of Coca-Cola, and a bottle of Bacardi Orange Rum.

Semi-healthy, I suppose. At least I fought off the urge to buy doughnuts.

My cell phone reception is spotty, here. It fluctuates between two bars and No Service. I did get a text message from my friend Sadie. Well, actually, I received that while I was still in Citrus Heights. It took three or four tries before I could successfully send my reply, here in Guerneville. Getting through to my sister, on the other hand, has been a no-go.

I don’t know what my plans are. Without ‘net access in my cottage, I guess I could be productive. Maybe I’ll get some writing done. I also brought my golf clubs. And my guitar. I’m having a hard time thinking which of those two things I’ve used more recently, which should give you an indication of how little time I spend doing either.

I really should spend time sitting outside. It’s beautiful weather. And since I did come here to de-stress…

Anyway, after a short nap, I moseyed around town for a while. Bought some scented candles. Then I came down here to the Coffee Bazaar. However, they’re about to close, so I guess it’s time to go.

This morning began with a bad breakfast sandwich on burnt toast and whiny country music on the restaurant’s radio. The only saving grace to the experience was the way cute redhead behind the counter. She was even cuter than the blonde at Coffee Bazaar last night. She was practicing some yoga poses, it being slow at 9:15 when I was there. I enjoyed that quite a bit. The sandwich was crappy, the music was awful, the coffee was bland… but with that scenery, I didn’t care.

It is, in fact, almost weird how many hot girls I’ve seen here. Or maybe it’s not that they’re all hot… maybe my perceptions have been skewed. Hard to say.

After breakfast, I bought a new pair of sunglasses (my old ones had cracked) since I’ve started wearing my contact lenses again. I plan to wear them off and on, rather than full-time, as I used to. My eyes had become chronically bloodshot, so I quit wearing them altogether. But I’ve reached the stage of hating my glasses, so…

My friend Brent had Lasik surgery some time back, and said I should do that. I dunno. It would be my luck that I’d be one of the minority who have the surgery go bad and I’d end up half blind or something. Besides, I can’t really afford it at this point in my life.

I was finally able to get through to my sister on my cell. I brought her up to speed on the happenings of the past four weeks. The last time I’d spoken to her was only about a week after Lor and I had “the talk.” She hadn’t heard yet about anything beyond that. (I know… I haven’t detailed much of it in these pages, but again, that’s because much of it just isn’t mine to share.)

Her next venture in this direction will be in March or April. I told her to come on down. I’d fix up the sofa for her. I certainly won’t have a guest room to offer. Maybe a big ol’ air mattress is in order.

It was another nice day today, so I headed out to Northwood Golf Course for nine holes in the redwoods. I played with a couple of retirees named Ed and Maureen. Nice folks. And while they played better than I (and obviously more often), they both hit enough bad shots to make me feel at ease. I lost one ball on each of the first two holes. I’d only brought two with me on the trip, and had foresight enough to buy three more in the pro shop, but I hoped I wouldn’t keep up the ball loss average. As it happens, I didn’t lose any more. Which isn’t to say my game improved. Perhaps my eyesight did.

It was also after the second hole that I decided not to keep score. I was out there to relax, get a little exercise (no cart for me, thanks), and enjoy the beauty of the redwoods. Golf is supposed to be a relaxing game, but more often than not, it’s aggravating. Today, for example, I was hooking a lot. Normally, I slice. Go figure. But either way, tossing the scorecard in the trash kept my blood pressure in the normal range.

One thing that playing golf did hammer home into my head was that I didn’t bring enough clothes with me. I guess I was having a male moment when I packed, because I brought just enough to get me through, with one change of clothing each day. But after a round of golf, I was sweaty and gross. No way was I going to wear the same outfit for the rest of the day.

So it was off to Santa Rosa, and shopping at Kohl’s. I bought a new outfit. Black jeans and a camp shirt. Haven’t owned black jeans in a long time.

Have I mentioned that I love to shop? Yep. I do. Even for clothes, sometimes. If it weren’t for the male pattern baldness and the copious amount of body hair on me, you’d think I have too much estrogen in my system.

So here I am back at Coffee Bazaar for my nightly email fix and blog update. Got here earlier, tonight, but still not early enough.

Afterward, I guess I’ll play some guitar, to appease LadyLuck . And me, of course. Gee, golf and guitar in the same day. What’s the world coming to?

I may do some more writing tonight, too, as I did last night.

That’s it. Hell is definitely freezing over.

Well, the guitar playing last night didn’t go any better than yesterday’s round of golf did. First of all, I’m woefully out of practice, which means my fingers have no calluses. So playing for more than fifteen minutes was out of the question. It just got too painful.

Yeah. “Painful” is the right word. The horrible noise that came out of that sweet instrument definitely hurt. It’s sad, really. I used to play all the time, all through high school and college. At one point, I had about an hour’s worth of original compositions. Today, I can’t remember any one of them in full. This, too, is sad. I mean, it’s not that they were fantastic pieces or anything, but they were mine. I liked them, and others seemed to, also.

My friend David and I used to play in his basement. He was an awesome drummer. He worked out a fantastic percussion part to my first composition, an eight-minute piece I’d called “Phases.” I haven’t been able to remember that whole song in years.

My high school had this annual production called the Varsity B Show. It was a combination of comedy skits, musical numbers, and so on. Invariably, the cheerleaders or color guard would get out there and do their normal, idiotic routine, and expect that people would fawn all over them. (What the hell’s the point, y’know?) The “comedy” was routinely bad. But every once in a while, you’d get something good.

And during my senior year, I played “Phases” in front of a few hundred people. Scared the shit out of me, honestly. I stood up there, under that hot spotlight, unable to move. Not just because of fear, but because my electric cable was only so long. I wore big heavy glasses in those days. Between my nervousness and the hot spotlight, I was sweating. And the glasses kept sliding lower and lower on my nose. (I was looking down at the guitar neck… not because I needed to watch my fingers, but because I was too afraid to look out at all those people). I just knew the glasses were gonna fall off my face and clang across the strings.

They didn’t, though. They stopped right on the tip of my nose and just hung there for the remaining minutes of the piece. It was a nerve-wracking experience, but I got over it as soon as I heard the tremendous applause.

And that surprised me, honestly. I expected only a polite bit of clapping. Instead… well, I can’t even describe it. Suffice to say that I totally get why performers are addicted to performing. I was instantly high.

I wasn’t a popular kid in school, but I was one of the few who learned how to play guitar. Even though the song was in a raw version (I’d “perfect” it later), and without David on drums (that came much later), people loved it. And for the last few months of school, I was popular. At least, among the crowd that was into rock & roll.

Pity I hadn’t done that years before. I might have actually enjoyed school.

This morning, I went to Coffee Bazaar for breakfast. I just can’t seem to find decent food anywhere, here. The bagel was a lame excuse for one. But then, in college, I used to have bagels that were imported from NYC. Nothing like a real NY pumpernickel bagel with cream cheese! Mm-Mm!

My bad luck with food here this trip is especially ironic, because one of the best meals I’ve ever had in a restaurant was one I had here four years ago. But that restaurant seems to be gone. Figures.

And of course, there was another cute girl working at the coffee shop. Cute, despite the piercings… one in the nose and one through the lower lip. There’s no way in the world I will ever find such things attractive. But they’re so ubiquitous that I’m starting to become used to them. And of course, I’m sure the fact that one of my best friends has them has something to do with me getting used to them.

Anyway, I was there for probably two hours, then roamed around town for a bit before coming back to my room for lunch, to listen to some Eels, and to work on this entry.

After lunch, I drove out to Armstrong Reserve for a drive and walk through the redwoods. I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned my passion for the redwoods elsewhere. Armstrong is a nice reserve, but it’s too regulated for my liking. Too touristy. When you walk through, you have to keep to certain paths. You can’t really get to any of the really good places.

For me, a walk through the big trees is what some people feel like when they go to church. It’s practically a spiritual experience. And just like in church, it’s rude for others to destroy the atmosphere with loud talking.

Problem is, that’s what you experience in Armstrong. Lots of people, some of whom don’t feel the same sort of reverential state of mind as I do, obviously. I wasn’t there long, today. Maybe I’ll stop by again on Sunday before I leave.

After that, I checked out Stumptown Brewery. I’m always seeking out quality microbrews, but this wasn’t even worth the one mile drive. They only had three of their own brews on tap: a wheat, a pale ale, and a double pale. None of these are the sorts of brews I care for. But I had a wheat and it wasn’t bad. I sampled the pale. Didn’t care for it. And keep the double pales away from me, thanks.

And now I’m back at Coffee Bazaar. Am I lame, or what? I guess I’m just not used to the relaxed life. I always feel like I need to be doing something. I need to get over that, I suppose.

Of course, the other thing is that for the past five years, I haven’t had any significant social life to speak of. Granted, this last year has been better than the previous four, thanks to D & T, but still… being able to just pick up and go out whenever I want to is something I’m not used to, either.

I’m not sure what I’ll do this evening. Surf the web while I’m here. Then probably have some dinner (frozen pizza and Ben & Jerry’s tonight) and maybe do some more writing.

Exciting, huh?

An interesting variety of music plays here. Earlier, “Words” by Missing Persons played. I really grooved on that; it took me back to my college days. Then one of the girls behind the counter said to the other one, “My mom used to really like this song.”

Super. Now I feel ancient.

Guerneville has been reminding me, in superficial ways, of my home town. It’s small, has lots of trees, very few traffic signals. The people here are friendlier, I think. Less redneck. Certainly more open-minded.

But I don’t belong in my home town, and I don’t belong here, either. I thought I would be comfortable here, but as is so often the case, my memories of this place are different than the reality. Of course, it has been four years since I’ve been here. So I guess that’s no surprise.

This morning, I slept late, then walked into town. I grabbed a copy of the local free paper – similar to the News & Review – and headed to the Coffee Bazaar. I had a raspberry white mocha, while my depression advanced, then went back to my room.

Yes, I recognize it for what it is. Depression. Or perhaps just part of my whole mid-life crisis thing. It’s no secret that I’m having real issues with getting older. I know it’s inevitable, and being uncomfortable with the process is rather insane. It’s not like I can do anything about it. But there it is. I’m uncomfortable with it.

I’ve always had friends of all ages. Even when I was a teen, I had friends in their thirties or older. Or at least, I thought I did. I wonder, now, whether they really considered me a friend, or just some kid who happened to like them.

Today, I have friends who are much younger than I… late teens, early twenties. But again… I wonder. Do they really consider me a friend, or just some older guy who happens to like them?

That thought depresses me, and bad. Because I consider these friends to be my peers. I respect them. I care about them, and want to know their thoughts on things. I admire them as people. I don’t think of them as being half my age or whatever. Hell, I hardly ever think of age at all… until it smacks me in the face.

I know college was a long time ago, but it doesn’t seem like it. It seems like… I dunno… just a few years ago, at most. But in reality, it’s been a lot longer than that. Why does time seem to go by faster, the older we get?

I know it’s because we find our days full of more things. Work. Usually a family. All kinds of things that we find ourselves involved in that we never had been, before. I know this.

And maybe that’s my problem. So much of what my intervening years have been filled with has been stuff I haven’t liked. I sure as shit don’t like my “career.” But I’ve fallen into the trap known as consumer debt, and so the pursuit of the almighty dollar is one I must continue.

It sickens me, really. To know that I spend so much of my time doing something I despise… Is it any wonder I’m depressed? I don’t know what the current rates of adult depression are in this country, but I know it’s high. And no wonder. Most people hate their jobs, if not their lives. And to realize that we spend so much time involved with work… often ten hours a day or more, from departure to return home… well shit, just pass the Prozac.

I keep telling myself, though, that I’m feeling the way I am because of all the crazy crap I’ve been going through, and that once I’m settled in downtown, and the divorce is all behind me, things will improve. I keep telling myself this, but I’m not at all sure it’s true.

After writing the above section, I decided to do something to get my mind off my depression. I decided to go for a drive over to Bodega Bay.

Bad idea.

This decision hammers home why Guerneville wasn’t a good choice for this trip. Because the only other time I’ve been here was on a vacation Lor and I took on our first anniversary.

And we’d taken an afternoon trip down to Bodega Bay. Like that trip, I didn’t actually stop there today. It was very foggy, even at 2:00 in the afternoon, and chilly. (I’d left my jacket in my room.)

And, like that former trip, I came back through Occidental. I even stopped at the same set of shops that Lor and I did, in the main part of town.

I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking, choosing this destination as a getaway in order to de-stress from the insanity that is my life. Part of that insanity is everything surrounding the breakdown of my marriage. So why would I choose to come to a place where we celebrated an anniversary?

Because I’m an idiot. And because it was a somewhat hasty decision. I wanted redwoods, but probably could’ve picked a different location. But I wanted something familiar, not taking into account that everywhere familiar in California was going to be somewhere Lor and I had gone together… with the exception of one or two locations I’d traveled on business, but none of them were appealing.

As I said… I’m an idiot.

So now it’s 5:30, and I’m at (you’ll never guess) Coffee Bazaar, having my second latte of the day. It strikes me that at some point I should consume some real food. All I’ve had today (other than coffee drinks) is a bunch of Pringles, and four mini rice cakes.

I don’t plan on staying here very long tomorrow. Not that I’m in any hurry to return to the place that is technically still my home. (Like I said… feeling aimless today.) Boss A says that it’s pretty likely that the moving out process will affect me deeply. I think she’s right. It’s going to be tough, but there’s not much I can do about that.

Now why am I thinking about that right now? I’m still on vacation, dammit.

I left the Coffee Bazaar around 6:30 last night, but not before debating for quite a while over whether to ask the counter girl to have dinner with me. I decided against it.

I wandered on back to my room and stowed the laptop, then headed out again, in search of dinner. Except that, again, what I was really hoping for was to have dinner with someone.

It occurred to me, then, that I was really lonely. I realized that I was now spending my fourth night in this town, and I hadn’t had any significant interaction with another human being in all that time. Aside from my retiree golf partners on Thursday, and a phone call to my sister, the extent of my socializing had been to say, “Large non-fat raspberry white mocha, please.”

I was going through human withdrawal.

After half an hour or so, I ended up at the Safeway a block from where I was staying. I eventually picked up a sandwich and some jalapeño poppers (real nutritious, huh?), but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t checking out the checkout girl, wondering what time she got off work, and would that be too late for dinner?

Which leads me to the question: What the hell is wrong with me?

Have I become co-dependent or something? Am I so lonely that I’m willing to ask a total stranger – one I’ll never see again – to go out to dinner, just so I’ll have someone to talk to?

And I’m not happy to admit this, but the idea of “getting lucky” even crossed my mind. This is utterly unlike me. One-night stands are totally not my thing.

I repeat: What the hell is wrong with me?

This morning, I departed around 10:00. On the way home, I ended up calling Sadie, to see if she wanted to get together for lunch. She did, and we did, going to Zocalo in downtown Sacramento. (Excellent, by the way.)

Our conversation was all over the place, but that’s generally how it is when you’re just getting to know someone. I regret that she and I didn’t get to know each other a year or so ago, when we first met. She’s really quite cool.

I’ll admit, though, to wondering (as I had yesterday) whether she was really thinking of me as a friend or not.

Of course, I didn’t come right out and ask, so it may be a while before I have an answer to that question.

Then I went home, unloaded the car, grabbed a tape measure, a pencil, and some graph paper, and went to my new apartment.

I’ve been concerned over the space issues and seeing what will and won’t fit in there. So I made a scale drawing of the entire place, so that I could determine, for example, whether the Bowflex will fit in the bedroom along with a queen-sized bed… and where, exactly, I’ll put the bookshelves and CD rack. (Hey, it holds over 1000 CDs… it needs space!)

I’m happy to say that yes, I think it’ll work just fine. But it’ll be… um… “cozy.”

After that, I got together with Lisa for coffee and “catch-up.” There was quite a lot about my personal soap opera life that she hadn’t heard, yet. So I got her caught up on all that.

And of course, we talked a lot about other stuff, too. Though I know Lisa better than Sadie, we’re still very early on in our friendship.

And also of course, I had the same thoughts regarding peer groups. I even brought it up. I mentioned that I wondered if it should bother me that I’m easily old enough to be her father, yet I consider her a peer. She put me at ease on that one. And I don’t even know why it ever occurred to me that it should “bother” me. Why should it?

My older brother married his wife when she was just out of high school. He’s nine years older than she is. And he pointed out to me that the age thing didn’t matter to them, because they complemented each other. Areas where she was immature, he wasn’t. Areas where he wasn’t so mature, she was. It worked well for them.

And Lisa pointed out that friendships are the same way. You can be intellectual peers with someone, even though you don’t have the same life experiences. And that’s really true. Lisa’s very intelligent, and I do consider her an intellectual peer. And that’s way more than I can say about many of the people I know who are similar to my own age. Certain co-workers, for example, though very close to my own age, I do not consider my intellectual peers. Their life experiences are very different from my own, and while I may like them just fine, I wouldn’t voluntarily choose to spend much time with them outside of the workplace.

By contrast, today I spent time with two people whose combined ages don’t quite equal my own. And yet, I would much prefer to have a conversation with them than with most of the people I work with. We’re just on closer wavelengths.

Age really is just a number. Who gives a shit how old a person is? As Adlai Stevenson said, "It is not the years in your life, but the life in your years that counts."

I believe I mentioned before about Boss A being on vacation during the same time I was away. What I don’t think I mentioned was where she was going.

And that would be Cancun.

Yes, she knew Wilma was coming. She and her friends still went.

And surprise…! She and her friends are still there.

The latest update we got was that there was a strong chance of them flying out within three days.

I’m not expecting to see her this week.

You Are 30 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

Finally! Someone agrees that I’m not really as old as I am!

Your Brain's Pattern

You have a dreamy mind, full of fancy and fantasy. You have the ability to stay forever entertained with your thoughts. People may say you're hard to read, but that's because you're so internally focused. But when you do share what you're thinking, people are impressed with your imagination.

Wow. All that just from picking a picture. There’s a bit of truth to it.

Cheese Pizza

Traditional and comforting. You focus on living a quality life. You're not easily impressed with novelty. Yet, you easily impress others.

I guess there’s truth in that, too, though I don’t necessarily agree with the “traditional” part. (For the record, I actually prefer mushrooms & black olives.)

How You Live Your Life

You seem to be straightforward, but you keep a lot inside. You're laid back and chill, but sometimes you care too much about what others think. You prefer a variety of friends and tend to change friends quickly. You tend to dream big, but you worry that your dreams aren't attainable.

And there’s probably some truth in that, too. Except for the bit about changing friends. I’m fiercely loyal to my friends, though I’m always looking for more of them.

Your Taste in Music:

Classic Rock: Highest Influence

Progressive Rock: High Influence

80's Alternative: Medium Influence

80's Pop: Medium Influence

80's Rock: Medium Influence

Hair Bands: Medium Influence

Adult Alternative: Low Influence

Yup. Truth in that.

Your Ideal Relationship is Polyamory

You want to have your cake... and everyone else's. Which isn't a bad thing, if everyone else gets to eat too! You're too much of a free spirit to be tied down by a traditional relationship. You think relationships should be open and free, with few restrictions.

Now there’s definitely truth in that!

Boss A is back in the States! As of this morning, she was in Denver. Not sure when she’ll make it back to Sacramento, but either way, I’m sure I won’t be seeing her in the office until Monday.

We think she should dress as Wilma for Halloween. 

Lorelei is headed up to Portland for a few days, so I’m sure I’ll be spending the next few nights mainly packing up some things at the house. Yesterday I purchased a nice air bed for use until I appropriate a real one. I’m hoping to obtain the one that’s in the guest room of Grams’s house, but it’ll be a couple months before that’s even possible.

Today I ordered cable internet service for my new apartment. It’ll be hooked up next Wednesday. I also contacted SMUD to set up the utilities for me. Haven’t decided, yet, whether I want a land-line telephone or if I’ll just stick with the cell phone.

Thing is, I don’t have a great plan for my cell phone. And I’m with Cingular, which sucks ass. You can’t upgrade your plan without getting a new damn phone and signing another friggin’ contract with them. Bastards.

Of course, doing that might be cheaper than having both a cell phone and a land-line.

A couple days ago, I text messaged Sadie to see if she had plans for Halloween. She called today and said she thinks she has Saturday during the day open. I hope so! Packing can get mighty boring, and quickly!

It kinda sucks, though, because Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I hate that it falls on a work day this year. I also hate that so much crap is going on (including moving) during this time.

I have no idea when the local kiddies will go trick-or-treating (remember when it was always on Halloween night?), but I purchased a bunch of fat-laden candy at Target, yesterday. I’ll be ready to raise their cholesterol levels.

Well, Boss A is finally home. I got a call from her this morning, and she briefed me on her Cancun “vacation.” She and her girlfriends went out to dinner, the first night they got there. Upon returning to the hotel, the staff told them not to leave the hotel again.

To their dismay, they also found that the bar had been closed already.

The next morning, during breakfast, they saw the staff boarding up the windows and whatnot.

By the next day, they were at a shelter, on wet concrete floors with no furniture, where they’d stay for the next several nights. They ate lots of tuna fish and instant noodles. Yum.

They eventually got a cab to take them 170 miles to an airport (at a cost of $700). And now she’s home. But I won’t see her until Monday, as she’ll be working from home for the rest of the week. Can’t blame her.

We hourly employees are not “allowed” to work from home, which is a total crock. I worked from home one day last year. I was designing a series of eight small posters to raise awareness about a proposition that was on the ballot that our company was heavily involved with. It was work that took a good bit of creativity, and required few distractions. Thus, Boss A told me to do it at home.

However, when the powers-that-be found out about this, they about had coronaries. You can’t work from home! You’re hourly! I was given two lame-ass reasons why hourly employees weren’t allowed to work from home. The first one was something to the effect of, “We don’t know what you’ll be doing. You could be watching TV the whole time.” This, of course, applies equally to salaried personnel, which basically means that they don’t trust hourly people. Later, I was given a different reason, having something to do with workman’s compensation insurance or some bullcrap like that. But again, that would have to apply equally to salaried folks. So what it boils down to is that they just don’t want hourly folks working from home, and they have no good reason for that.

So when I’ve needed to work from home for a half day here and there, I just don’t put it down as such on my timesheet. Bastards.

So today I ordered phone service. I decided to be brave and go the VoIP method. For $199, I pre-paid for a full year of telephone service, including unlimited local and long distance calls. It includes two numbers (one of which has a different ring), and a cordless phone with extra handset. That’s a bargain, if I’ve ever seen one.

Let’s hope the company doesn’t go belly-up anytime soon.

Last night I picked up a new wireless cable modem for my computer, along with a wireless card for my desktop, and a new surge protector.

I’ve also started shopping online for mundane things like a toaster, coffeemaker, and vacuum cleaner. All the little crap that I’ll need to re-buy.

Speaking of little things… I hate it when I buy something and immediately hate it. Case in point, the socks I purchased while on vacation last week.

I bought a 3-pack of black socks by Jockey. Fourteen bucks. A bit pricey for socks, I know, but I like the Jockey brand. I wear exclusively Jockey undies and love them. (Yeah, I know… TMI.) I figured I’d like their socks, too.

Nope. Hate ‘em. I mean, despise them. There’s not enough elastic in the body of them, so they don’t stay up, but collapse down around my ankles. That annoys the crap out of me.

I strongly suspect they’ll be finding their way, right quickly, into a box of clothes being donated to the next charity to call.

Y’know what I hate? Walking into the men’s room while someone is having a nasty, smelly movement. It’s a small bathroom, so stench goes everywhere.

I mentioned this to my buddy Gary (who, I’m sure, didn’t need to hear about it). In reply, he said that some of his co-workers leave their offerings there for the next unwitting stall occupant. He also mentioned that some dimwit shaved in the john and didn’t clean up after themselves.

All this put me to mind of my college days, when one of my work-study jobs was assisting the maintenance staff at PSU’s HUB (that’s Hetzel Union Building, which had study areas, a cafeteria, etc.). One of our duties was to clean the rest rooms. And I’m not kidding, folks… the girls’ room was way worse than the guys’ room.

I’m talking about hair in the sinks, makeup stains everywhere, and – worst of all – the stalls. You all know, of course, that women have one issue with their plumbing that we guys don’t have. It’s not a daily event, but a monthly one. Well, each stall was equipped with the little “dog house,” the receptacle for used specialty paper products, so to speak. But did the ladies use them? Sometimes. Other times, we’d find these colorful contributions lying on top of the receptacle, like a mortally wounded Snoopy, shot down by the Red Baron. Other times, they’d be on the floor, or even on the toilet itself… sometimes (at least) wrapped in toiled paper, other times not. And of course, the toilets themselves were painted with crimson streaks.

The little boy’s room? The worst was the occasional floater, and a lot of missed “basketball” shots at the trash can. Which, I guess, disproves the old saw that guys don’t wash their hands afterward. Of course we do. How else do you think we can practice our hook shots?

After work, one of my co-workers (who shall remain nameless, but her first initial is April) came over to check out my new, and as yet still vacant, apartment. She seemed to like it, and promised that she and her family would come visit.

I’ve decided I’ll have a sequence of initial “come on over” gatherings, and I’ll do it by department. Accounting folks one day, Info-techies another, etc. I’ll feel like our company president, who has similar gatherings with personnel… lunches in which he pretends to be just a regular guy, interested in our personal lives.

I didn’t feel like cooking tonight… even microwave stuff. So dinner consisted of some “lite” salami slices and a couple pieces of bread toasted with cheddar cheese on them. Lovely, huh?

After dinner and dinking around online, I went to The Corner Pocket. That’s where Deb works on Fridays. (Yes, I said “Deb.” That would be “D” of “D & T.” Enough with the initials, already. I see no reason to keep these folks totally anonymous, anymore.) I hung out there until about quarter to one, then headed home.

As you might expect, after that huge dinner, I was hungry again. So I had more salami and another piece of cheese toast. (My diet has gone to hell over the past month. But given the lunacy my life has been during that time, I don’t think anyone can blame me for allowing it to happen.)

Sometimes at the Pocket, young female representatives from different companies will be present. Tonight, for example, there were two girls representing Southern Comfort, and two from Bacardi.

The Bacardi girls (Angela & Kit) were particularly cute. They autographed a mini-poster for me. Of course, the poster was just of a bottle of rum… not of themselves. Pity.

Tomorrow I should really spend some time packing. Really, I should. And I will. Probably. Unless I get a call from Sadie, telling me she’s free during the day. Then I’ll get together with her.

I’m a horrible procrastinator.

I did, in fact, move some things to my new apartment on Saturday. Specifically, I moved a bunch of boxes of books and the Bowflex. And what a workout it was!

First of all, fitting a disassembled Bowflex into my car was like doing one of those weird puzzles, where the different pieces of metal will lock together in a certain way, but otherwise just lie in a heap. Carrying it up to my second-floor apartment wasn’t exactly easy. Well, most of it was, but the base was heavy and awkward and what the hell was I thinking in trying to do it with no one to help?

I managed to do it, though after that, I sure didn’t feel like doing another trip. Nor did I move anything today.

What I did do today was more shopping. I picked up a set of sheets, a blanket, a comforter, and new pillows. I figure if I’m starting fresh, new linens are a part of that.

I also ordered some essentials online… toaster, vacuum cleaner, coffee maker. Still quite a lot of shopping to do, though.

Tonight was an historic event. Debbie came over and did something to me that no woman has ever done before.

Get your mind out of the gutter. She shaved my head.

Yes, that’s right. She took the clippers and cut off my rapidly thinning locks.

I’ve come a long way in five years. Five years ago, I had a ten-inch ponytail. I cut it off just after Thanksgiving, 2000. The weight of it was dragging the rest of my hair down, making the thinning more noticeable. So for five years, I had hair short enough that even my father would’ve approved.

This latest bit, though, would’ve floored him. Hell, it’s going to be weeks before I can see myself in a mirror without doing a double-take.

Deb and Troy both say it makes me look younger, and that’s really what I was going for. I’m tired of looking older than I am. Or than how I feel. I act about thirteen on a good day, but I don’t think it makes me look that young.

My co-workers are gonna freak tomorrow. And it’s no coincidence that I planned this for a Halloween unveiling. Let them think I did it as part of my “goth” costume… along with the black fingernails, black eye makeup (as done by Alice Cooper), black jeans/shirt/trenchcoat, and “biker” gloves from the costume shop (really thin leatherette with uncomfortable studs).

Here’s an interesting thing. When I was a senior in high school, at the age of 16, I had a full beard. (I shit you not.) I decided to shave it off one day. It was December. I lived in Pennsylvania.

I’m telling you, I walked out to go to school the next morning and suddenly remember what it felt like to have frigid winter air hit naked facial skin. What a difference!

I couldn’t have decided to shave my head in high summer. No. I had to wait until the end of October, when the days are still nice, but the mornings and nights get a tad bit chilly.

I expect to be freezing tomorrow morning when I leave for work.

I may have to take up wearing hats.

What fun! As anyone who knows me well can attest, I like freaking people out. And my Halloween get-up certainly did the trick! (No treat involved.)

The first “victim” was our company receptionist, who was quite startled when I stepped off the elevator. Admittedly, I do sorta look like a Trenchcoat Mafia type. She thought I was a terrorist or something.

At least two other co-workers didn’t recognize me for at least a few moments. One had the reaction of, “Oh my God! That’s you!?” I liked that.

I also liked Lisa’s reaction, over at the Espresso Bar. She took one look at me and just said, “Jesus… Christ.” Heh. I liked her outfit, too. She had some fake birds glued to her head, including one that appeared to be impacted into her skull, with blood and all. She was, of course, Tippi Hedren.

Not much on the agenda for tonight. Dropping off my new linens at the apartment before heading back to Citrus Heights. Handing out candy to the few trick-or-treaters likely to show up at the door. Maybe getting some more packing done.

I do need to upload my new articles in the Corner. I also need to get this damn makeup off my face. I’ve had occasional itches around my eyes, and can’t scratch! I’ve been reduced to “scratching” with light pokes of the tip of a pencil, so as not to smear.

One of my co-workers is having a Halloween party. I may or may not drop by. Since that would leave no one at home to hand out candy, I’m not too inclined to go. I've already eaten enough of that crap. I don’t need to eat the rest.

Lorelei isn’t returning from Portland until Thursday, which means she won’t get to see my shaved head until then. She’s long been intrigued by the idea of me doing it. Figures that I’d do it after we split. Ah, well… If she’s nice, I’ll still let her rub my head.

Once again… get your minds out of the gutters. I meant my skull.

At any rate, this means that I'll be staying in Citrus Heights still, this week. I don't want to leave the house unattended at night. Several months ago, our neighbor on the left had his house broken into while he was away. And a few months ago, my car was vandalized. And yesterday, the neighbor on the right came over and told me his house had been broken into, as well. I wanted to say, "That's because you're a weed dealer, and your customers knew you'd be gone."

But I didn't.

For some reason, I thought this was funny. So I asked my neighbor to come over. “Look,” I said. “It’s like little honey bullets!” I demonstrated by firing off a few onto the spoon, and giggling a little.

“Boy,” she said. “Cutting off your hair really must’ve made you feel younger.”

Hmph.

First of all, I’ve always had a juvenile sense of humor.

Second of all, she should be glad I called them “little honey bullets,” and not what I was really thinking of calling them.

The number of co-workers admitting that they didn’t recognize me yesterday keeps growing. And now it includes Boss A! She’d walked right by me yesterday when she came in… and I attributed this to the fact that it was her first day back after her harrowing hurricane experience. So I walked into her office and said, “Is that all I get, just a glance?” Today she said that it wasn’t because she was brain dead. It was because she didn’t know who I was until I opened my mouth!

Geez!

On the other hand, today one of my co-workers said I looked fifteen years younger. She may be exaggerating, but others have said I look younger, too, and that’s what I was going for.

Not much planned for tonight. I’ve got to drop off my rent check, for one thing. (And that’s something I’ll have to make sure to remind myself of on a monthly basis. It’s been 5 years since I’ve had to do that.)

I also got my 2006 contract in the mail from The Learning Exchange, so I’ll need to review that, make sure everything’s as we agreed verbally, and send it back.

Beyond that, I need to pack. I’ve been so lazy about it. Lorelei and I still haven’t gone through the division of property, but I can still pack up off-season clothes, books, etc. Guess that’s a plan for tonight.

Well, my week has officially become irritating.

Yesterday, I was supposed to have the cable company come out to hook up my broadband service after work. Instead, I get a call on my cell phone at 7:45 in the morning, asking if I can meet them there in ten or fifteen minutes. Begrudgingly, I agreed, and called the office to let them know I’d be late.

Well, ninety minutes later, the guy has not been able to get my brand new wireless modem to work. He says it’s not “locking down.” He has a test modem, which he swaps out, and it works just fine. So he says the modem has a bad signal return and I’ll need to get a new one. I have my doubts about this, but who am I to disagree? I’m not a cable technician.

Once at work, I soon realize I’m having one of those days. Meaning, a day where I don’t want to be at work. (I know… when do I want to be at work?) I end up working for a while, then take off the rest of the day.

My first action then is to go back to Circuit City and exchange the “bad” modem for a new one. Then I go home to pack up a bunch of boxes (books, mainly) and take them to the apartment.

But first things first. The modem. I hook it up and wait. And it doesn’t “lock down,” either. So I call the tech, who’d given me his cell number. I tell him the deal, and he says not to worry, and that if I call their service line, they’ll finish the process over the phone and get me working.

Doubtful, I do so. The woman on the line does some sort of magic at her end, and all of a sudden, my modem is “locked down” with all the lights illuminated, just as they’re supposed to be. Then, as a test, she has me disconnect and reconnect the power to the modem, effectively resetting it. And then we’re back to square one, because (say it with me) it’s not working!

This puzzles her. I won’t even tell you what it does to me.

Long story short, she arranges for another tech to come out on Friday after I get off work.

I hate this.

By the time I finished bringing all the boxes upstairs, it was about five o’clock. I had been planning to attend the meeting of the Sac-Poly group, but it didn’t begin until 7:00. I didn’t feel like waiting around for two hours… but then realized that if I left for Citrus Heights, I’d be caught in the worst of the rush hour traffic. And screw that.

So I went for dinner at Brew it Up! Then I headed to the poly meeting.

If you’re saying, “the what meeting?,” then you need to brief yourself on polyamory. Here’s a decent enough site for doing that: http://webalias.com/paarc. (Yes, it’s one of many sites by yours truly. Its links pages are horribly out of date, mainly because I’m lazy, but the main page will sum it up for you, anyway.)

Now, when I first moved to the Sacramento area, five years ago, I attended a couple meetings. But I stopped when it became clear to me that Lor was not as comfortable with the poly thing as she was when we met.

Nutshell history: she knew I was poly when we met, and claimed to be fine with that, even felt that way herself. That feeling soon faded. I chose to stay with her, monogamously, even though I had my doubts. Ultimately, I was just not okay with not being “allowed” to have feelings for anyone else. No, this was not the reason we separated, but it was certainly a factor.

Anyway… The group, back then, struck me as a bit disjointed. Last night’s meeting was more relaxed, with a mostly younger crowd. There were twelve of us there. And clearly, most of them knew each other quite well. I felt totally out of the loop.

Which isn’t to say that they didn’t make me feel welcome. They did. But I was the new kid on the block, and there wasn’t any way to change that. Still, they seemed mostly cool, and of course geeky, so I’m sure I’ll attend other meetings. I’ll fit right in! Of course, since last night’s meeting was only about an hour long, I didn’t really get to know anyone. Hopefully I’ll make some friends in the group, though.

And I just realized I’ll be able to attend the polyamory conference next year! It’s only about two hours from here! Woo hoo! Should be a good one. It’s the 20th anniversary of the conference. It’s a four-day event. I’m sure there’ll be lots of great workshops.

I went to an east coast conference back in ’96 and quite enjoyed it. That’s where I learned about intentional communities (http://www.ic.org) for the first time, a concept that still fascinates me. Met a lot of very cool people, too.

One thing that hadn’t occurred to me about my new digs: I’ll be only a couple blocks from the railroad tracks. This pleases me, as I grew up very close to railroad tracks. I find the sound of trains very soothing. Many’s the time I’d be lulled to sleep by the sounds of a train going through late at night.

In Utah, by contrast, we lived very near Hill Air Force Base. The sound of fighter jets flying over our apartment was definitely not soothing. Especially on a Saturday morning while trying to sleep in.

So to make up for time missed yesterday, I got to the office at six o’clock this morning. I’ll work until six tonight (the most I’m legally allowed to work for make-up time in one day), and do another early day tomorrow (though maybe not quite as early).

Advantage of coming in at six: No traffic delays!

Disadvantage of coming in at six: Coffee shops aren’t open, yet!

Lorelei has again pushed back her return to Sacramento. Now it’s Saturday, the same day her mother arrives.

The coming week will likely be stressful. The sisters (and eldest daughter of the deceased sister) will be dividing up the physical property of Grams’s estate. This includes G, of course (a.k.a. Thieving Whore).

I don’t envy anyone being present for that little auction.

Lor’s mom is saying she’s going to try to obtain some of the older furniture in the house for me. Sweet of her. If I don’t have to buy a bed, dining set, and recliner, I’ll be quite happy!

And the disbelief continues…

I was at the copier a little bit ago and one of my co-workers was walking by. Now, this is someone I've known for well over a year, though I don't work in the same part of the building as she does. We don't see each other every day, but generally pass by each other at least once a week, and have had lengthy discussions more than a couple times over the past year. She says to me, "I don't think I know your name."

I look at her like she's joking, then politely “remind” her. And I could see in that split second a combination of shock and embarrassment on her face. It was classic! She said, "I thought maybe you were related to him, but... wow! You look so different! So much younger!"

So to my friends who told me it can’t have made that big a difference… Nanny, nanny, boo-boo!

Sometimes it bothers me that this blog is essentially little more than my diary. I’ve always wanted it to be more along the lines of clever, witty observations about daily life… things moderately interesting, but not significant enough to devote an entire article to in Cardigan’s Corner of the Web.

But then, I think that sort of sums up my life right now. So I guess I shouldn’t be so disappointed. So let me nutshell the past few days…

On Friday, I received something happy. I finally purchased an electric guitar. I’ve been without one since I moved from PA. I got an Epiphone Les Paul Quilt Top. It’s beautiful. Check it out. Click on the “View Larger Photo” link. Mine’s the red one.

Yes, I know that I produced some horrible noises with the acoustic while in Guerneville last month. But hey… A few weeks of regular playing and I’ll be turning out some nice stuff.

Naturally, I also got some “toys” for it. Three effects pedals, to be precise. Can’t wait until I’m settled in, so I can start playing. (And yes… I also got headphones, so as not to disrupt the neighborhood.)

Saturday was my friend Sadie’s birthday. Her family took her to Monterey, where they were going to the Aquarium. She was excited, because they have penguins there.

I love Monterey. The Aquarium is awesome. I haven’t been there in a while, though.

At my last job, I did a lot of meeting planning, and I got to stay at some great hotels, at no charge. In Monterey, I was there for a familiarization tour of the Monterey Plaza Hotel & Spa for two nights. But since my association was having their annual meeting at the Monterey Marriott the following year, I was able to go down early and spend a night at the Marriott, to familiarize myself with the place.

Well, they sure impressed me. They put us up in one of the Presidential Suites. This was a two-floor affair, just massive, with a balcony big enough to host a party for a few dozen people.

Anyone who says there’s no such thing as a free lunch has never worked as a meeting planner. Talk about being spoiled! Some of the other amazing freebies I got were a week in Hawaii and a trip to the Emmy Awards! (Man, I miss that job.)

Anyway, I told Sadie that I wanted to take her out to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Not sure when that'll happen. Soon, I hope.

Thursday was my niece's birthday. She, too, loves penguins. But as she lives in Ohio, I don't think she'd be going to the Monterey Aquarium. Of course, stranger things have happened.

Lorelei and her mother are here, now. Lor and Sean have secured an apartment in Beaverton, Oregon. He’s moving in now; Lor will join him when all affairs are wrapped up here in Sacramento.

Her mom is meeting with the Realtor again this week; the house will be put on the market in a couple weeks.

This coming Friday, several family members will go to San Francisco, where the ashes of Grams and Gramps will be scattered in the Bay. I was invited, but Veterans Day isn’t one of our paid holidays.

And the division of household property will also take place soon, which will include the previously mentioned attempt to obtain furniture for me. I hope she’s successful. I’d like to get everything moved into my apartment as soon as possible.

Boss A warned me that packing up my stuff would be emotionally hard on me. At the time, I didn’t think she was right, but… as usual… she was.

Tonight, we went over some of the things and split them between ourselves. It was… very odd.

And, I mean, I’ve been through this before. This isn’t my first divorce. And even though we weren’t married, my first girlfriend and I had to do the same sort of thing, too. We’d been living together for three years. (As an aside, she passed away last year. I found her obituary notice online the other day. Very strange feeling, knowing that your first partner has passed away.)

I’m sure it’s only going to get more and more difficult as it continues. So far, I’ve really only moved a small amount of stuff. But once I’ve moved a considerable amount, I think it’ll feel hugely bizarre.

One unexpected thing tonight… I happened to be looking at a picture of Lor and me on the wall. For some reason, it made me think of pictures of me with my first wife. One in particular, in fact, of us together before she was married. I was at her college. We were going to be attending a dance, so we were both dressed up. It sent a stabbing pain through me, thinking of that.

It’s no secret that I still have a lot of negative feelings surrounding our separation. It’s not that I think we had a good marriage. We didn’t. But it certainly wasn’t a terrible one, either.

In that respect, it was much like my marriage to Lorelei. Not good. But far from bad.

And I’m sad that both of them ended.

So Lor and I were moving some things into my new apartment last night, and noticed these two women across the street putting up a Xmas tree in their front window.  All decorated and lit up and everything.  They even came out in the street to see how it looked, and gushed like schoolgirls eyeing a prom dress.

In case you're reading this sometime later, yesterday's date was November 6.  Forty-five days before the holiday!

What is wrong with these women?

To my mind, December sixth would still be too early, but at least it would be in the proper month!

Anyway, I ended up spending more money yesterday on all that stupid little stuff that you need to have on hand, but never have to buy all at the same time, except in situations like this.  I’m talking about cleaning supplies, soaps and detergents, trash bins, laundry basket, Q-tips, air freshener, yada yada yada.  I also bought some stuff I didn’t need, but thought would be nice.  Some new drinkware, new silverware, new pots & pans, etc.

The china I have is a real nice Mikasa pattern (Opus Black) I picked out when my first wife and I got married.  But in truth, it’s not really “me,” anymore.  I may try to sell it and then buy something more casual.

Of course, the silverware I just bought complements the china quite nicely…

We also divided up the CDs and DVDs last night, which wasn’t as difficult as I’d imagined it would be.  I’ll only need to replace a couple dozen CDs.

As for the DVDs…  Well, in truth, I’m not sure what I’ll be doing in that regard.  I’m not going to own a TV.  My computer has a DVD player, but I can't imagine wanting to watch a movie so badly that I'd sit and watch it on my computer monitor.  At any rate, at least I’ll have them for the future.

Then again, do I really need them?  I don’t know.  They may end up on my “may as well sell” list. I could certainly use the money.

Hell, if I thought I could get any money for it, I'd sell my body.  Or at least rent it.

I’d thought the tears were all behind me. But I’ve been wrong before.

It’s been a very rough night for me. I don’t know what set me off. Just packing things up and putting them in the car, I guess. Seeing things in such disarray. So much like my life.

Lor spends a seemingly ridiculous amount of time on the phone with Sean. But to be fair, this isn’t easy on her, either. And he’s got his own drama to deal with, too. This isn’t easy on anyone, and it’s compounded by everything surrounding Grams dying.

Lor’s mom and Aunt J are here. She drives me insane. I think she drives everyone insane. She’s seriously OCD and quite annoying in her own little world. Worse, she’s sort of on the “side” of the Thieving Whore in some ways, and has actually taken to outright lying to Lor’s mom about certain things. She’s such a cretin.

The reason she’s staying here in the house, rather than over at the Thieving Whore’s place, is that tomorrow is the big “distribution” of property, otherwise known as the Descent of the Vultures. She wants to go through all of her mother’s stuff… which she’s been doing all night… before everyone else does.

Anyway, the rest of the week continues the insanity. Friday is the scattering of the ashes. Saturday the house goes on the market. Sunday all my furniture finally gets moved.

But for tonight… it was just too much for me. After partially loading up the car and then having dinner, I did some work on the computer (finances, mostly), then took a shower. I got very depressed there, under the hot spray. By the time I got out, I was totally down.

I sat beside Lor on the couch. Her mom asked if I was okay… and that was it. The tears just welled up. Lor offered no comfort. I know it wasn’t because she doesn’t care. She does. I know she’s simply shunted a lot of her feelings aside because they’re too hard to deal with. And giving me comfort is just not something she was able to do. Her mom could, though, and did. And I really appreciated that.

After the emotional episode in the living room, I got on the computer. But there was nothing I wanted to be doing. I ended up sitting here at the desk, bawling my eyes out. It’s been so long since I’ve been alone. I know I’ll adapt well to it, but it scares me, too. And as I said… with everything in such a clutter, my emotions just got the better of me.

I debated for a while whether or not to even stay here this evening. And had it not been so late, I probably would’ve just hopped in the car and headed to the apartment. But nothing is set up, there. I would’ve been exchanging one houseful of chaos for a mostly empty apartment… but what is there is a mess.

Again... much like my life.

Man, when I said “Descent of the Vultures,” I wasn’t far off. It amazes me the pettiness that this kind of situation brings out in people.

When I got to the house after work yesterday, the nasty aunts (Thieving Whore and she who’ll now be referred to as Greedy Bitch) were both there. And Lorelei was nowhere to be seen. She was in the back yard, utterly livid. She was too upset to go inside, so we went out to dinner.

The story of her aunts’ behavior was… unpleasant. I won’t even go into it, other than to say that there were lies and betrayals involved, and a lot of hurt feelings. Naturally, Lor is looking forward to the day when she’ll never have to have anything to do with those two women again. Fortunately, that day is very close.

After dinner, I packed up some necessities and went to the apartment.

My friend Alice stopped by not long thereafter, and we hung out for about an hour. She lives not so very far from my new place... easy commute by bicycle. It’s good to know I’ll have a friend nearby. She’s recently ended a long-term relationship, too, so we’ve always got something to commiserate about.

After she left, I continued arranging my apartment a little bit. As with every apartment I’ve ever lived in, I could use one more cupboard and one more closet. I do have a big empty space over the kitchen sink where some shelves could go in. I may have to investigate that option. It would be a good place to display my copious quantities of mugs and beer glasses.

One thing I forgot to pack when I left the house: my alarm clock. Fortunately, I remembered to pack my PDA, and it has an alarm on it. Otherwise, I might still be sleeping.

Tonight will be spent doing more arranging of the place. I also need to go bed shopping soon. Sleeping on the air bed was fine last night, but I don’t think I’d want to do it for very long.

I just want all of this crap to be over!

So much to say, so little desire to say it.

Okay, that’s not really true. More like, too tired to say it well.

I did, in fact, buy a bed last night. And a few other little household things. I got depressed at Target. They had the Xmas stuff out, and I walked by a big display of ornaments. Lor and I had made a tradition of buying a special ornament together every year.

The bed will be delivered tomorrow… or rather, later today. I see it’s after 1:00 as I write this.

There was more insanity at the house last night, so I hear, but y’know what? I just don’t feel like talking about it. Greedy Bitch has become Greedy Superbitch. Let’s just leave it at that.

Had lunch with a friend of mine today. Let’s see… she needs a nickname. Let’s call her Stalker Girl. Don’t ask why.

She’s a relatively new friend of mine, and has become quite the confidante. She’s been a tremendous help to me, and I’m looking forward to spending more time with her and her family in the days to come.

She drives a way cool car, which I now covet. Not that I’d give up the Cruiser, mind you. But still.

Anyway, we talked a lot about relationships today, and she validated my views. Translation: she doesn’t think I’m a freak.

I like that about her. And that she’s cute and cuddly. But mostly that she’s a wonderful human being.

After work, I went to the house, to find it dark and vacant. I’d totally forgotten that today was the day the ashes were being scattered. Lor and her mom still weren’t back from the Bay area.

So I packed. Primarily, I packed CDs. Box after box of CDs. But the rack is now empty! We made the CD rack ourselves. It holds about 1100 discs. I don’t think Lor kept more than 100 or so. Definitely not more than 200.

After they returned, I went to the store for Tin Roof Sundae ice cream. Today (yesterday, whatever) was her mom’s birthday and that’s her favorite.

And after that, I went to visit Debbie at the Corner Pocket. I was only there long enough to savor two glasses of Guinness, then headed back to the apartment.

Tomorrow will be more packing, plus the bed delivery, and then Sunday is the big furniture delivery from the house.

What a weekend!

Man, it seems like days ago since I made that last entry, and it hasn’t even been 24 hours, yet! It’s been a helluva day.

There were two trips back to the house, interrupted by a trip back to Sacramento to take possession of my new bed. This is a happy thing, and yet, not entirely so. Once the bed was in place, I pictured where the dresser would go, and realized that there’s no fucking way a Bowflex is gonna fit in the bedroom.

I have no idea what I’m gonna do with it. I really don’t want to sell it. I want to use it. But the only space left to put it in the entire apartment would be where the dining table will go. Now, I don’t have a dining table, yet. So I could fill the space with it. Except that I strongly suspect that the space will be filled with items I’m going to be getting rid of. Many books. My stereo that I’ve had since college. Who knows what else? Some things I’m parting with I kept over at the house. A full set of Britannicas, for example. (Bought in ’89, before I owned a computer, and before I had any idea that people would be buying encyclopedias dirt cheap on CDs in the not-too-distant future.) So… maybe the Bowflex will go in that spot… just not with the purpose of being used.

Two trips to the house means two loads of things brought back to the apartment. One of those items is a set of blue plastic bookshelves (also owned since college). Yes, they’re tacky and ugly. But the point is, they’re blue. So’s my carpet. So it works. And this bookshelf has taken up residence on the wall facing the front door, about three feet from the entrance to the kitchen. And what’s occupying the shelves?

Forty bottles of Torani syrup.

Yep. Our previous 52 flavors had dwindled to 42. I dumped two of them. The root beer one, because it tasted like ass. And the grape one, because it was nearly empty, and the shelves hold 40 bottles perfectly.

I’m planning to reduce it to 30 flavors, eventually. There are seven flavors I want, but am currently out of. But many of the flavors I have, I see no need to keep. Sure, it’s fun to make Italian sodas with the fruit flavors. But I’m thinking I should only keep the fruit flavors that also go well with coffee. A raspberry white mocha is yummy. But a pink grapefruit cappuccino sounds pretty shitty to me.

Now, the problem with this is that I’d planned on putting the computer desk on the wall opposite where the syrups are, right beside the front door. But if I do, the chair would be right up against the shelving unit!

And I know what you’re thinking… “Put the computer desk in the bedroom, since the Bowflex isn’t gonna be there!” Nope. That won’t fit, either.

And again… I could put it in that other space, but eventually I do plan to have a poker… er… dining table. Yeah. Dining table. That’s where it goes, right under the ceiling fan/light.

So where, you might ask, will I be putting the computer desk?

Beats the shit outta me.

I’m seriously re-evaluating the entire living room layout, to see what can work. If anything.

On the way back from the house, I called both Alice and Sadie. They both were otherwise occupied, of course. Nobody with a life is free on the spur of the moment on a Saturday night. Alice was going to a friend’s party; Sadie was with some friends doing the Second Saturday Art Walk. I tried Lisa, but only got her voicemail. Thought about calling Stalker Girl, but figured she was probably busy, too, with the kids, most likely. Besides, I realized I was acting desperate, so I just gave up.

After I was done moving more crap into the place, I took my first shower using the new showerhead I purchased. It’s way better than the one that came with the shower, but my landlord was sure right – about ten minutes of hot water is all you can expect. It’s a really small hot water tank. This is well and truly sucky, I must say. I wonder what I can do about this issue.

Anyway, once clean, I was bored. I thought about walking around to get to know the neighborhood a little better. But my back was killing me, so instead, I figured I’d go to the grocery store, where the shopping cart could act as my walker.

So it was off to Safeway, to fill the fridge. Except that the fridge barely appears to have anything more in it now than it did before I went. Where the hell did $120 go? It sure didn’t put much food in the pantry, that’s for sure.

On my drive to the store, I took notice of the festivities. Second Saturday is more, it seems, than just a bunch of art galleries that stay open late. There was live music, and all sorts of fun.

Next month, perhaps I’ll check it out. It looks like a good time. By then, I should be mostly settled in, and not feel guilty about leaving an apartment full of boxes just sitting there, waiting to be unpacked.

Maybe by then I’ll also know where the computer desk should go.

Today was, as all faithful readers know, furniture moving day.  I hired a couple college kids to do the heavy lifting.  My back was still aching from yesterday, so it’s a good thing I had the foresight to do this.

After they loaded everything in the truck, we took off for Sacramento.  And as I was making my way down 12th Street, I realized that I didn’t have the keys to my apartment!  Lorelei had driven the car back from the station where we picked up the truck, and she still had my keys.  I called her, and she brought them downtown for me.  I hated to inconvenience her like that, but such is life. 

The stairs to my place are very narrow and there’s a U-turn halfway up.  I’m glad I don’t own any furniture of quality, as some of the pieces did not make it upstairs unscathed.

After everything was unloaded, I gave the kids $120.  We’d agreed on a hundred.  I threw in the extra twenty because of the delay.  Gave ‘em a beer each, and an autographed book for the hell of it.  I also unloaded my old stereo for $40 to one of them!  Not much money, but at least it's out of my living room.  He's also contemplating the Bowflex, too.

Anyway, after unloading, it was back to return the truck, and then to the house… where we realized I’d forgotten to tell them to put my dresser in the truck!

Fortunately, the Cruiser has a big ass end, and the dresser fit in there just fine.  Lor helped me move it in.  Another great inconvenience.

And then we talked for a while.  It got… well, it got pretty emotional.  She admitted that today was harder on her than she’d expected it to be.  Seeing me move my furniture out… and all those boxes of books and CDs…  It was painful.

I know exactly how she feels.  Even typing it right now puts a lump in my throat.

But we both know this is for the best.  As she put it, we make great roommates and fantastic friends.  We just weren’t meant to be married to each other.  Neither of us was entirely happy. 

I think some of our friends and acquaintances are often baffled by our separation, because unlike a lot of couples who split, there’s no animosity between us.  We don’t fight.  We’re not mad at each other.  To many couples, they see no problems.  I don’t know, but I think a lot of couples are unhappy, but don’t see that as reason enough to separate.  We, on the other hand, feel that life is too short to go through it unhappy.

I hope she’ll be happy with Sean.  And I know she wishes me happiness, too.

Well, looky, looky! Sage’s Scribbles made the Top Blog list yesterday! No idea how that happened. It must be a testament to the dearth of interesting blogs on Mindsay.

Whatever. It’s still cool. And damn! Lots of Recent Spies I've never seen before!

Murphy’s Law continues to wreak havoc with me. Today, for example, I received my first bill for my internet cable access. And it was, of course, wrong. When I signed up, I got a special: $29.99 for the first six months. My bill, however, said my monthly charge was $45 and change. I called them. They seemed not to believe me. I gave them the confirmation number I’d received for that price. They said they’d look into it.

Speaking of internet… I decided to get all modern and everything and use VoIP for my phone service. I signed on with one of the companies, paying only $199 for a full year of unlimited local and long distance calling. They even included a pair of phones. Problem is, I don’t know how to hook it up. Their instructions say to either (a) hook my modem into their gizmo, and hook that directly into the phone and the computer, or (b) hook the modem into the gizmo, and the gizmo into the router and the phone. My problem? My cable connection is in an entirely different room than my computer. And I don’t use a router. I have a wireless modem. No router necessary. So I’m “short” one hookup in option (b), while option (a) is out of the question. I sent them an email describing my situation, and hope to hear back from them tomorrow.

And to top it all off, Stalker Girl was supposed to come visit today, but her little boy got sick, so she couldn’t. Bummer.

Not that the apartment is even remotely close to being presentable for company. Tonight I worked a little on books. (Last night, I got all the CDs on the shelves… no small task, let me assure you.) Specifically, I took care of the paperback fiction, which fill all but one shelf in a large bookcase in the bedroom.

And that’s about all I had the wherewithal to do. I tend to feel overwhelmed if there’s too much on my plate. And that’s how I’m feeling now.

That, and rather bummed. It’s been a long time since I’ve been really alone. I called Lor tonight to see how she was. And she’s just the same way. It’s not loneliness, per se… just a feeling of unease at being by oneself.

I’m not sure how she’s going to treat this particular malady until she moves to Portland. But my method will be to increase my social life. I guess that’s why I was so bummed that S.G. couldn’t come over tonight. I kinda needed the outlet.

Tomorrow night I have a class to teach, so that’ll be good. S.G. may be able to come over on Wednesday or Thursday. And Friday night, unless something comes up for her, Lisa and I are supposed to go to Luna’s Café to see Roberta Chevrette play. Saturday I’ve got a book signing, followed by a standing invitation to play Dungeons & Dragons. Sunday? Who knows?

But if all those other things happen, I may need a day of rest!

Well, I’ve got a few minutes before I have to leave for class. It’s great being walking distance from work. I don’t have to spend money on dinner every time I teach. So tonight I had a great, nutritious meal. Cheerios. Dinner of Champions.

So, as feared, Lisa flaked on me. She forgot about the show and made plans to go out of town this weekend.

I’m trying not to be upset by this. I mean, it’s not like it’s anything serious. I didn’t spend money on any tickets or anything. And we’re not dating, so it’s not like she’s standing me up.

But I still wanted to see her, outside of the Espresso Bar. And she’s not going to be there much longer, either. She’s leaving soon for a month in Europe, and I don’t think she’s returning to her job when she gets back. I don’t want us to drift apart, just when we were starting to become friends.

I emailed Stalker Girl to see if she'd be interested in the show on Friday. I'm thinking she won't be. She does have a family, after all. Oh, and she was very apologetic about not being able to come over last night. I told her I was sorry, too, but family comes first. Dealing with a puking child is definitely more important than helping a friend set up his living room.

If S.G. isn't able to go, I have one or two other folks I could ask. Alice would probably like Roberta's music. I don't think Sadie would. Well, we'll see what S.G. has to say.

Speaking of tickets, my buddy Sam down at Fuel had incredible luck today. One of his customers handed him a couple tickets to the upcoming Rolling Stones concert, and said, “Have a good time.”

Man. I work in the wrong industry.

I got a reply email to my VoIP phone issue. Seems their gizmo is only designed to work either directly connected to a computer or a router. My bright idea in getting a wireless modem, so as not to have to deal with a router, basically screwed me on this.

So now I have to decide… Do I return all the stuff for the phone service, and pay more money (over time) for landline service, not to mention buying phones… or do I buy a wireless router?

Moneywise, buying the router is the more sensible choice. But here’s the next question: Will my wireless modem actually work with a wireless router? Or will two wireless points of access cause problems?

I could just buy a regular modem, too, then sell the wireless one on Craigslist or eBay or something.

Why does everything have to be so damn difficult?

I finally got my VoIP phone to work. Yes, I had to freakin’ buckle under the pressure and purchase a router and a new modem. So now I’ve got a $130 wireless modem just sitting here useless, after having been used for what… a week? Not to mention I’m out another $160 for the two new components, although I’ll get a large chunk of that back in rebates.

Anyway, it took me probably an hour and three calls to Comcast (one of the calls dropped) to get the new modem activated. Then another half hour to get the damn router operational. Finicky fuckin’ thing. But, amazingly, my VoIP gizmo fired up and worked right away, with hardly any prompting at all.

So now I’ve got a phone other than my cell! Yay!

Anyone want my number?

But it’s not all good news tonight. Stalker Girl, Alice, and Sadie all have plans Friday night. Guess I may go stag to the show. Nothing wrong with that, of course.

Speaking of S. G., she said she might actually break down and join MindSay, doubtless so that she can leave pithy comments on my blog. Thing is, “StalkerGirl” is already spoken for, so we may be changing her nickname herein, very soon.

She and I will be having dinner and drinks tomorrow night. Who knows? Maybe I can get her drunk and seduce her into helping me arrange my living room.

What? What were you thinking I was gonna say?

Hear ye, hear ye…

Let it be known, through lands near and far, that from this day forward, she who was previously named Stalker Girl will now be known as StalkerChick!

Some restrictions apply. Not valid in some areas; check your local Cardigan dealer for rebate offer. Take only as directed. May cause intense pain, profuse sweating, difficulty in breathing, loss of consciousness, violent convulsions, and finally… er… death. Limited to one entry per household. APR 24.7% If you have received this proclamation without a cover, be aware that it is stolen property. All resemblances to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Your mileage may vary. Contains sulfites. Tankyouveddymuch!

So I decided to do some more online quizzes, out of boredom. (And by “boredom,” I mean “not feeling like doing the ton of work on my desk right this minute.”)

Let’s see how accurate they are.

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Black Comedy

In your life, things are so twisted that you just have to laugh. You may end up insane, but you'll have fun on the way to the asylum.

Yep… That about sums up the story of my life, that’s for sure. Especially lately.

Arty Kid

Whether you were a drama freak or an emo poet, you definitely were expressive and unique. You're probably a little less weird these days - but even more talented!

Who Were You In High School?

 

Somewhat accurate, yes. But “emo”? C’mon. When I was in school, that term didn’t exist. Hell, when I was in college, that term didn’t exist. And as for the bit about being less weird today…

 

You Are 40% Weird

Normal enough to know that you're weird... But too damn weird to do anything about it!

How Weird Are You?

 

I can accept that.

 

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead... But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself. You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place. You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

How Machiavellian Are You?

 

Pretty accurate. I don’t mow people over. I go around them.

 

What Your Underwear Says About You

When you're bad, you're very bad. And when you're good, you're still trouble! You're the type of guy who lets his girlfriend pick out his underwear.

The Underwear Oracle

 

I couldn’t resist taking a test called “The Underwear Oracle.” But I’m not sure how to respond to it… other than to say that yes… it was a previous significant other who determined the style of underwear I now wear. What can I say?

I’m not kidding. It had ground turkey, Italian sausage, two kinds of onions, about a pound of garlic, mushrooms, black olives… Good gawd, it was a gustatory orgasm on a plate.

Oh, yeah… there was pasta underneath it all, too.

Between that, and the garlic bread (with more garlic butter than should be allowed by law) with cheese… Well, hell. I don’t even know what to say. Other than I have leftovers, and no, you bloody well can’t have any!

One drawback to the evening (or advantage, depending on if you’re a “glass is half full” kinda person) is that I realized just how many more things I need just for the kitchen. S.C. would say, “Do you have…” and half the time, my answer was, “Um… nope.” Super. More expenses. (But yes… at least I know now.)

I do find it somewhat embarrassing that it was someone other than me to first use my new pots and pans. Not to mention the range. (I’d used the oven a few days ago to crisp up a couple corn dogs I'd first done in the microwave.)

In all seriousness, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this comfortable with someone after such a short time of really knowing them. She’s such a warm and wonderful person...

...for a stalker.

For example, I’ve been positively giddy this past week. (Just ask Lucky, who has commented on it herself.) And why shouldn’t I be? The drama of Lorelei’s family is finally behind me. She and I are on very good terms. I can walk to work, now. I’m making some very special friends. Okay, the actual giddiness is almost entirely due to the last part there. (Thanks, S.C.)

But sometimes I go the other direction. A feeling of despondency can overtake me very suddenly. I have moments when I feel totally overwhelmed by my job, by my living situation, by financial matters… I have moments when I just don’t give a flying fuck about much of anything, least of all myself. They don’t last long (thankfully), but even just a few minutes of feeling that way is more than enough.

Today has been one such day. I woke this morning to the happy buzz of having had a few wonderful hours with my favorite stalker… I said hello to strangers on my walk to work. I talked to my brother and nephew on my cell phone for a few minutes before getting to the office. Once at work, I sat down at my desk, knowing that one of my major projects was no longer hanging over my head, having wrapped it up the previous afternoon. And yet, other things intruded. I felt a literal ache inside over an illness a friend of mine is going through. I felt overwhelmed by my job – just in general – and wondered how I was going to maintain. I worried (again) about all the other crap I still need for my apartment, and how I’m going to pay for it. One thing just leads to another, and before I know it, I’m a wreck.

Now, I know I’m probably not literally manic-depressive, or bipolar, or whatever the P.C. term is for it today. I doubt I need to be on Depakote. I’m pretty sure it’s all just stress-related, given everything I’ve been going through. After all, most of this is pretty petty shit. Money matters always tend to work out. I’m good at my job, and even though I’ve been playing catch-up for a while, it’ll all be fine. And so on.

Yeah, it’s stress. I’m sure of that. And I’m doing my best to minimize it in my life. I just want to be a little more stable on a day-to-day basis. Is that too much to ask?

I’d like to begin this entry by saying that I’m feeling much better since my last update. Two things led to this improvement. The first was just coming to certain realizations about my present life. I mean, the truth of the matter is that I naïvely didn’t think I’d be lonely once out on my own. I was (and still am) looking forward to regaining my independence, to being a single person again (rather than half of a couple). But finding that independence, becoming that person, is not something that’s going to happen overnight. It’s been a long time since I’ve not been half of a couple. It’s… well, it’s just unfamiliar territory, after so long.

I’d written previously of Lorelei’s similar feelings… except in her case it was more a general uneasiness rather than outright loneliness. And I know the reason that’s the case for her is that she’s got someone new in her life. Even though they live hundreds of miles apart (for the time being), she at least has a significant other. And I don’t.

But that brings me to the second thing that’s led to my improvement.

It’s no secret that Cardigan isn’t exactly cornering the world’s market of self-esteem. Truth is, I don’t often think of myself as desirable, when it comes to the dating world. (This despite the fact that I’ve been in one long-term relationship after another for the past twenty years, almost.) Sometimes, I’ve actually had someone be “interested” in me, and I was somewhat oblivious to the fact. Other times, I’ve thought someone might be, but my self-esteem/paranoia/whatever makes me second-guess myself.

Take this past Thursday night, for example. StalkerChick and I had a great evening together, and there was, yes, some flirting going on. I told her flat-out that I had a crush on her. And to any observer with any kind of perceptive abilities, it would’ve been clear that this was a mutual feeling. But I was still not sure. (Why? Haven’t you been paying attention?)

So. The second thing was that I told her this, and she stated quite plainly that it was a mutual feeling. Just knowing this, without any paranoia-induced doubts, makes me feel so much more at ease.

I ended up going alone to the Roberta Chevrette show. It was nice. Luna’s is a very tiny, intimate venue. My favorite kind. I chatted with Roberta for a bit. She seems very sweet.

Actually, I’m kinda glad no one else was available to go. It was another step in that process of gaining my independence back.

Yesterday I packed up a lot more stuff from the house. It frightens me that there’s still so much left. I haven’t a clue where it’s all going to go. But today, I’ve been arranging things. The dining area is nearly void of boxes, now. Not quite, but close. I’ve even put a few decorations up.

I was supposed to attend a board meeting this morning. I’d totally forgotten about it until I checked my email before bed last night and saw the reminder. But I just couldn’t bring myself to go, because I was set on getting a lot done here in the apartment.

Oh, and I tried out my new toaster this morning. Why is this news? Because it’s not just a toaster. It also cooks eggs and heats up pre-cooked breakfast meats. I shit you not. So I had a poached egg (more accurately, a steamed egg) on a piece of toast, with a veggie “sausage” patty. I still need to experiment a bit… the egg was a bit overcooked for my liking, even though I followed the directions for the minimal amount of doneness for it. We’ll see how it goes next time.

I woke with a sore throat today. That’s never a good sign. I hoped it was just due to something mundane… like mouth breathing all night. But now it’s after 4:00, and it still hasn’t done anything beyond fade a little. Worse, some sneezing has occurred. Not much, but more than no sneezing at all. Some congestion. And a weird stomach sensation… just a little queasiness.

I want to go home.

Yesterday I set up the Bowflex in the dining area. Tonight, a guy is coming to see if he wants to buy it. Thing is, I don’t really want to sell it. I want to use it. But it’s either the Bowflex or a dining room table. For right now, I don’t have a table, so I can use the Bowflex. But eventually, I’m gonna want to play poker, so…

Lorelei returns from Portland tonight. I pick her up at the airport around 9:30. I suppose that means that we’ll be spending Thanksgiving together, as neither of us has any other plans.

I’m fine with that. I do like spending time with her. I’m just not interested in spending a holiday with her and hearing about her new boyfriend the whole time.

If she starts in about him, StalkerChick says I should talk about her! I rather like that idea. But what to say, exactly? I’ll have to think of something particularly spicy. (Feel free to make suggestions, S.C.)

I'd like to be able to say that I feel better today, but exactly the opposite is true. The sore throat is almost totally gone, but everything else just got worse. Nevertheless, I went to work today, as Boss A had a couple very important things for me to get done. But of course, because of her busy schedule (and needing her input on some parts of it), I couldn't get them finalized until the middle of the afternoon. But as soon as they were done, I was outta there. It ended up being only about two hours before my normal departure time, but that's something, anyway.

I got my new computer today, so I came home and set it up. It's sweet. But the keyboard will definitely take some getting used to. Specifically, the arrangement of the "home," "end," "delete," "insert," "page up," and "page down" keys. They're all different than my old keyboard, on which I would just tap away at those keys without having to look. Now, if I reach for the "insert" key, I hit the "home" key instead, for example. Could get ugly when not paying attention.

Also, I kinda screwed up when it came to the software. I chose not to buy a copy of MS Office, figuring I could just install it from the discs I have from the old computer. But no. Micro$oft only allows their software to be installed on a limited number of machines, and evidently, I'd hit that limit. Because when I typed in the product verification code, the computer laughed at me and said, "Get the fuck outta town, man."

So now I have to buy a copy of Office. Still, I can get it cheaper than Dell would've charged me, so I suppose that's saving me some money. And dog knows I need to do that, especially after some of the spending debacles I've had this month.

In case you've forgotten, I'm still sitting here with a $120 wireless cable modem on my shelf doing nothing. Oh, and while I'm on that subject, seems I wasn't paying attention when I bought the router. I got one with a max speed of 54 Mbps, when my wireless card is capable of double that speed. This is what comes of buying things on sale. You don't get what you really want, sometimes.

On the other hand, sometimes you get more than you expect. Like, I discovered that with my new internet phone thingie, I also get unlimited calls to Canada. That means I can finally chat with my friend Erin, whom I've known online for a couple/few years now. Yay!

My buddy brownstar wrote today about his trip to the dentist and his failure to grasp dentist humor. I can totally relate to that. Back when I was about 24, I had a brand spankin' new tooth come in. No shit. The dentist was stunned, too. But it came in on the inside of my gumline, against the tongue. (My family has notoriously cramped mouths.) So it needed to come out.

I asked if, given its location, it would be an easy or difficult extraction. (I'm even less fond of dentists than Brownstar.) He said it could go either way. It would either be simple, or a bitch.

Anyway, after several minutes of pushing and pulling, he finally stopped, and heaved a sigh of exasperation. Then he turned to his assistant, handed her the pliers, and said, "I can't get it. You wanna take a crack at it?"

WTF? He's letting the assistant take a crack at it? What am I, a freakin' guinea pig?

Of course, she reached right in and pulled it out, since he'd loosened it so much it was just sitting there. And no... I didn't find it amusing.

Damn dentists.

So stalkerchick is on the road today, headed out of town to visit family. But when I got home from the office, there was a voicemail from her. She's so sweet. I tried to call back, but ended up just leaving a message on her cell's voicemail.

Truthfully, I nearly called her while walking home. I had the cell phone out, ready to hit the "talk" button on her entry in my phonebook. Then I put it away. It's one thing to have a crush on someone... it's entirely another to give the impression that you can't go a day without talking to her.

Even if it sometimes feels as though that's true.

So it's Thanksgiving... a time for giving thanks, as the name implies. As regular readers will realize, my life has been pretty crazy the past couple months or so. And yet, there's been a lot of good stuff, too.

I'm thankful for Lorelei's friendship. Yes, there was a brief period where I felt I was being treated in a less than friend-like fashion by her. But I realize now that she's actually not doing as well as I am, despite having "moved on" into another relationship. Lately, she's been reaching out to me as a friend, and I'm glad of that. I don't want there to be any animosity between us, and I really can't imagine any cropping up.

I'm thankful for all my other friends, who've been so supportive during this crazy period, especially some folks at work... Alice, ladyluck , and Boss A, especially. And my old friends, including Gary, Erin, Brent, masivemaple , and siannon . And new friends... Lisa, Sadie, Joe, Ally, redjohn1971, and others.

And in some ways, I'm most thankful right now for stalkerchick . I honestly can't express how grateful I am to her. I know that, if not for her, I'd probably be in an even worse place than Lorelei is, right now. And some nights, the only thing that gets me through without freaking out is thinking of how much she's come to mean to me, how wonderful a person she is, and how grateful I am to have her in my circle of friends.

So to all my friends... this is my day to think about you all quite a bit, and to thank you.

I spent last evening with Lorelei. We went out to dinner, and she bought season ten of Friends. We watched a couple episodes before I packed up some more stuff and brought it to the apartment.

This morning, I slept in, then called my family to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving. I called my older brother's house back in PA, and the whole gang was there, almost. (Kid brother has to work tomorrow, so he stayed in Baltimore.) Even my sister had driven up from N.C. After I talked to all of them (and then kid bro), I called Tom & Lori. These are the parents of my best friend's family, when I was a wee lad. They moved to our street when I was four, and Mike and I became best friends immediately. We were the same age. He also had a sister a year older and a brother a couple years younger. Years later, another sister came along, but she and I never became close. By the time she was in her teens, I wasn't even living at home anymore.

Anyway, I talked to Lori for a time. The kids weren't there, though. They're doing their Thanksgiving thing on Sunday. I told her to expect more calls from me, since this new internet phone thingy will make that possible without going broke! I really love those guys. They were definitely my second family, growing up. I miss them.

After that, it was back to Citrus Heights. Lorelei and I watched some more Friends, then went out to an early dinner. I'd figured we'd be hanging out until late (as that was the plan), but after dinner, she wanted to be alone. So I came back to the apartment for more arranging and decorating.

Tomorrow, our plan is to catch a matinee of the new Harry Potter flick, then go car shopping for her.

Above, I mentioned my new friend Ally. I know I haven't mentioned her before, and that's because it's such a new development. It's kind of weird, actually. A couple weeks ago, she'd placed one of those "I'm bored, please email me" ads on Craigslist. Since I was bored, too, I replied. And we've been emailing ever since.

Oddly enough, we've really hit it off. We've been sharing our woes with each other, and have even exchanged phone numbers, though we haven't phoned, yet. Yesterday, she was bemoaning the fact that she'd be alone this weekend, without even her daughter around (she'd be with Daddy). I semi-jokingly told her I'd be alone, too. So there's actually a slight possibility that she may invite me to visit this weekend. She lives in Tahoe. I certainly wouldn't turn down an excuse to go to Tahoe, but I honestly don't expect her to ask. Still... weirder things have happened.

Yesterday started with an interesting thing, too, now that I think about it. I opened my door to leave my apartment, and my neighbor (our front doors share the same landing) was standing in her doorway talking to another girl who was just heading down the stairs, carrying some clothing. (She looked like a roommate moving out, actually.) Thing is, my neighbor was obviously fresh from the shower... one towel wrapped around her body, another around her hair. Seeing me, she immediately hopped back inside and closed the door, and, gentleman that I am, I averted my gaze anyway. One previous evening, as I was unloading things from my car, her parents were leaving her apartment, and I exchanged pleasantries with them outside.

I'm thinking of putting a note on her door. It'll read: "Well... I've met your parents... I've seen you in a towel... Don't you think it's time we knew each other's names?" Or who knows, maybe I'll just knock and say that in person.

So, one of my buddies made a comment on a previous entry that amounted to a joking comparison between me and one of our college classmates. This classmate – let’s call him Mike (since that was his name) – was known to sleep around a lot, and was also rumored to have had a 12" penis. I guess that's how he was able to get laid so much, since he certainly wasn't the most attractive of guys.

Well, the only things I have in common with this fellow are that I am also not the most attractive of men, and my middle name is Mike. I certainly don't sleep around a lot (lifetime total is four women, in case you care), nor do I have a humongous schlong. It's true that I've never had any complaints, but neither have I had anyone gasp in astonishment or pass out from fright.

Now, I know my friend was just making a funny, but it got me to wondering whether other people are looking at these blog entries, seeing the names of multiple females being dropped here and there, and jumping to conclusions about Cardigan that simply aren't true.

Yes... there are a few ladies mentioned in these entries, but the real deal is that it is almost certainly nothing more than wishful thinking on my part that anything will ever develop with even one of them, let alone more than one. I’ve developed feelings for each of them, in varying degrees, but I can list at least one major factor for each that makes it virtually certain that nothing beyond friendship will ever materialize: Too wide an age difference. Too great a physical distance. Already being in a relationship. Probably not interested. (And yeah, in at least half of the cases, it's almost certainly more than one of those reasons.) And that’s okay. I understand the age hang-up, and of just not being interested. I'm not really keen on a long-distance thing. And I damn well am not out to break up an existing relationship.

I feel very strongly about honesty as a core tenet of polyamory. I do believe in the ability to love multiple people without jealousy and competition… but unless it's all open and honest, an outside relationship is nothing more than cheating. And I’m not cool with that.

I’m not out to gain a new wife, nor am I trying to take some poor guy’s girlfriend away from him (even if she has already moved out of his apartment). And I’m not on some quest to dip my wick in as many pots as I can, like my classmate Mike evidently was. So while I'd love to have a network of intimate friends, the emphasis will always be on friendship. As long as I can have that, I’ll be happy.

Unfortunately, the fact of the matter is that I don’t have that. And I’m not currently very happy at all. I’m not dealing well with being alone. I mean, if I keep myself busy, I’m generally okay. Yesterday, for example, I spent a lot of time arranging books and such in the apartment. 

And yet… as I was preparing for bed, I stood there looking around in the darkened living room, feeling the weight of depression on me like a physical thing. My guard lowered, and everything flooded in… the fear of being lonely for a long time, the fear of not being able to financially make ends meet, the fear of not really having a close network of friends (intimate or otherwise), the fear of not having the kind of life I want to have – on several levels…

It’s overwhelming.

And the feeling is still with me, today. My guard hasn’t gone back up, and I can’t seem to figure out how to raise it again.

Yesterday’s entry made me realize that my site’s page on polyamory was woefully out of date, so last night I updated it. If you are at all curious about learning more about it (and about me, in the process), go here.

I’m doing better than yesterday, fortunately. My emotions are in such a flux. As I’ve said before, it’s almost like I’m manic-depressive. Except that my “manic” periods are simply ones in which I’m less depressed than usual.

Alice and I had a nice talk today during lunch. We’re sort of going through similar things, as she and her long-term guy recently broke things off. I do envy the fact that she has a well-established support network of friends here, though. I wish I did. But such things take time to build. I’m working on it, but so far, not much has happened.

Speaking of working on that… this is Lisa’s last week at the Espresso Bar. That’s a bummer on one hand, because I won’t be able to easily see her five days out of the week. On the other hand, it’ll free up more of her personal time, so maybe getting together away from work will be more possible.

She leaves in a month for a long trip to Germany. That’ll be great for her, but I’ll miss her. She’d better have ‘net access while she’s gone, dammit.

Good news today! I got approved for a refinance loan for my car. It’ll only extend my payments by another 15 months, but will knock $200 off my payments. And right now, that’s really important. So I’ll probably pay it off in January.

I’ll also apply for a re-fi through a local credit union that has lower interest rates. So I should know from them in a week or so.

I learned this morning that Ally was in Sacramento on Saturday! But for some reason, she wasn’t able to reach me by phone. Don’t know the reason for that, and it’s a drag that we weren’t able to meet. All my Saturdays between now and Xmas have events I’m rather obliged to attend (otherwise, there’s no event). Still… that does leave Sundays…

So last night (okay… 12:30 this morning) I was dinking around online (okay… chatting with stalkerchick) and all of a sudden, I lose my internet connection. Well, technology isn’t perfect, I realize, but dammit, it was a really fun conversation! (Despite only a minimal amount of flirting.)

Naturally, I reboot the brand new computer. It doesn’t help. My system tells me it’s getting a strong signal from the wireless router in the other room, but just for fun, I go out and reset both the modem and the router, then reboot again. All for naught.

Finally, I decide to call up Bombast… er… Comcast… only to realize that if I don’t have internet service, I also don’t have telephone service! So I turn the cell phone back on and call them.

The recorded message I get says that my area is going through routine maintenance procedures. Okay. That’s a relief. It’s not my system. But still… why do they have to perform maintenance at 12:30 in the morning? Why not 3:00 in the morning? Doofuses!

Or is that doofi?

Anyway, today is crazy. I’m taking a brief break in what is otherwise a day filled with projects. Even my lunch break was a nightmare. I had to walk to the post office to mail off four PAARC pins… to Japan, of all places… then to the credit union to become a member so that I can apply for the auto loan. Tomorrow. You have to be a member for 24 hours before applying for a loan.

At work, I’ve got a couple huge projects that have fallen on my desk in the past couple days. The only positive thing about this is that being swamped today got me out of some unpleasant work I was asked to do… which was to finish emptying Boss B’s office of stuff and moving it to her future replacement’s office. (Don’t ask me why her replacement won’t get her office… it makes no sense to anyone here.) Boss B herself is now in an office higher up in the building. At some point, I suppose I should stop calling her my boss, since she technically isn’t, anymore. But until her replacement comes in, she’s still handling some of her old duties… and I’m helping her with some of her new duties. (She won’t have an assistant in her new position, which sucks for her.)

Speaking of things that suck, I feel really bad for Ally. She’s having childcare problems. She has an 18-month old, can’t afford daycare, and doesn’t have any friends or relatives handy who can (or will) watch the kid while she’s at work.

She’s at her wit’s end, really. I’ve been trying to think of creative solutions to her dilemma, but I don’t know how much help I’m really being.

Again, my spirits have improved considerably, even more than yesterday. As I said in a reply to siannon in another entry, I’ve come to accept certain things about my present life, and have realized that maybe my expectations were a little too high in certain respects. I’ve decided to make a more conscious effort to be more satisfied with what I do have, rather than fixating on what I don’t. I’ll never stop striving for what I do want, of course. But if I can’t reach those goals, then I have the choice to either be okay with what I do have, or be miserable.

Easy choice, I think. And that was the choice I made on Monday night. I’m sick and tired of feeling miserable.

My life. My choices. My control.

My golly…

Well... here I am at the house in C.H.  Lorelei is still out of town for a few more days, so I came to check on the cats.  (They're fine.)  To see if Ashlar had taken a shit anywhere he wasn't supposed to.  (He had.)  To load up some more stuff.  (The rest of my clothes are already packed in the car.)  And to do some laundry.  (First load's in the dryer, second in the washer.)  After the laundry's done, I'll head to the Corner Pocket to see Deb.  Talked to her husband Troy on the drive up here.  He said they may come to see my new apartment tomorrow.  That would be cool.  ladyluck  was going to come visit after work today, but decided to go to the Kings game instead.  Some people just don't have their priorities straight.   

So what's with the new page layout thingie here?  There are just way too damn many smilies.  And no HTML option anymore?  That's just not right.

So I have two things to bitch about today.  The first is that some funky shit was going on last night with Yahoo's IM.  stalkerchick and I were chatting away, when all of a sudden, neither of us could see each other's messages.  We both were still logged in.  But it just didn't work.  So we each rebooted and logged back in.  When I did, I saw all of her "offline" messages to me... sent while I was still online.  Did this twice, by the way, with the same end result: no change.  The odd part is that she was online chatting with other folks at the same time, so it obviously wasn't a problem on her end.  But I sure can't figure out what it could've been on mine.

The other thing is my car.  It's leaking again.  Ever since I've owned it, I've had a problem with water coming in somewhere on the passenger side... but only when we have prolonged, steady rain.  Like yesterday.  Doesn't happen during a "normal" rainstorm.  Nor when going through a car wash.  I've had the windshield replaced twice (which helped nothing).  The third time I took it in, they said they found the culprit.  Apparently, one of the drainage holes in the sunroof fixture was clogged, causing water to build up around it and spill over, entering the car.  They said they cleared it and solved the problem.  Well, maybe that damn hole is clogged again, because when I got in the car last night to go to the store, the floor on the passenger side was wet.  Dammit.  I shouldn't have the same fucking problem for three and a half years.  Trouble is, this is only ever an issue in the winter months, here.  And if I take it to the shop for them to fix, and then we don't have another really long rain, it'll be another nine months before I know if the fix actually worked.

I hate cars.

Today was Lisa's last day at the Espresso Bar.  She leaves for a few weeks in Germany just after Xmas... returning a week before my birthday in January.  I told her we needed to get together before the holidays.  "Definitely!" she said, and that she'd call me tomorrow.

I'm not exactly holding my breath on that, though it would certainly be nice.  But I admit I'm a bit nervous about seeing her, though, because when we do get together one-on-one, I'm going to tell her something that may not be well-received.  I'm going to let her know that I'm attracted to her as more than just a friend.  I suspect this will not be a great revelation to her.  I've never been very good at hiding such things.  So I think she knows.  But I fear that she's just hoping I don't bring it up.  I don't get the vibe from her that she's interested in me in that fashion.  Of course, I'm not the most perceptive of people when it comes to that.

Or, maybe it's because of her recent split with her boyfriend.  I don't know how long they lived together, but he's out of the picture, now.  It was evidently not an amicable parting.  So maybe my perceptions were skewed because of the crap she's been going through.  Or the crap I was going through.  Who knows?  The point is that I just don't see any reason to not tell her how I feel.  If it's not reciprocated, well, such is life.  We're both mature enough to not allow that to interfere with our friendship.

At last!  The apartment finally is as "done" as I can get it to be at the present time.  I've still got four boxes of books to be sold, sitting in the corner.  And another box of cookbooks and the like, waiting for some shelves to be vacated for them.  (Currently, said shelves are filled with bottles of alcohol, pending the purchase of something more appropriate in which to store them.)  And I still have a Bowflex where the dining poker table should be.  But aside from that, the place looks great.  I even got my desk straightened up!  I must say, I'm quite happy with it.

I even cleaned today.  Yep.  Dusted, vacuumed, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom floors, sinks, and the toilet.  It needed to be done... besides, some of my co-workers are coming over on Tuesday to see the place.  Figured it ought not to be a total mess for them.

I finally met my neighbor today.  Tiffany.  She says she got my note (yes... I left the one I said I would), but she never thought I was home, as my light wasn't on.  She's referring to my kitchen light.  I leave the blinds open in my kitchen... don't see any reason not to... but I don't always leave the light on, of course.  And I don't think you can see much light seeping in from the living room from there. 

We talked for at least half an hour, standing out in the cold on the landing between our doors.  (Guess she wasn't comfortable, yet, with either of us inviting the other in.)  She seems quite nice.  I invited her for coffee, as I was on my way to Butch-n-Nellie's, but she was in the middle of a project and was going to crash early.  (Inside joke about the place... on their website, you'll see they say they are "just a block away from the ordinary."  Translation:  Butch-n-Nellie's is a block away from the nearest Starsucks.) 

Anyway, she said to stop over any time, and I said the same to her.  This'll be nice.  I don't usually know my neighbors, wherever I live.  Then again, I've often had neighbors I didn't wanna know.

Then there are the people I'm glad I do know...

stalkerchick was over for a visit this afternoon, with her kiddies.  They're adorable, though her boy is a handful.  As, I suppose, most boys are.

Except for me.  I was an angel as a child.

It's now that I'm the handful.

Alice was over tonight for a bit.  She got to witness two very odd things.

When she arrived, I was playing my electric guitar, listening to it through headphones so as not to disturb my neighbors.  And I could hear, faintly, what was clearly a TV station's broadcast coming through.  I let Alice listen, just to make sure I wasn't picking it up on the fillings in my teeth.  And she heard it, too.  Very weird.

The second was when I went to get her a glass of water.  I turned on the tap... and nothing came out.  The bathroom faucet worked fine, but not the kitchen.  I was on the phone with my landlord when, while fiddling around, I tried the sink's spray attachment.  It worked just fine.  And when I released the trigger on it, the faucet was running.  Again, very weird.

Alice and I talked mostly about dating/relationship crap for about an hour.  It's good to have friends who "get" me.

I think Boss A and I are gonna have a talk pretty soon.  She's an incredibly together woman, with a great head on her shoulders.  I consider her a friend, and I know that she'll continue to be one, even when she's no longer my boss.  And that's what I want to talk to her about.

I'm very tired of my job.  Not this particular company, but just the kind of work I'm doing.  She knows as well as I do that I'm underutilized.  I'm doing things that are beneath my capabilities.  When I don't find the work I'm doing to be boring, I find it irritating.  Not difficult.  Not challenging.  Just dull and uninteresting.  And let's not forget that I don't make anywhere near enough money.  I told a friend of mine recently how much I get paid.  She about choked on her shock.  But hey, that's the life of an admin assistant.  We do all the grunt work, and our paychecks are insulting.

I need a change of career.  But I don't know what to do about it.

Boss A has been hoping I'd have a shot at a new position being created in our office, but I think the chances of it are mighty slim.  Nor am I convinced that I'd really like the job, for that matter.  (Not that I'd turn down the offer, mind you.)

But of all the people I personally know, she's probably the one who could offer the best advice for career changes for me.  Yes, I've been reading What Color is Your Parachute?, but it's not helping a lot.  But Boss A knows me, knows my skills, and most importantly, knows my temperament.  Hopefully she can offer some guidance.

So I went grocery shopping on Saturday.  I went up and down each aisle, carefully choosing things that I should have on hand, and trying to actually supply myself with real dinner-type foods.  By the time I was through the store, I realized I'd failed miserably on that count.  So I revisited the frozen foods and other specific areas, and got some things.

Shopping for one person is really quite different than shopping for two.  It's not even remotely the same as the difference between shopping for two and shopping for a family of three or four.  No, it's really different.  You find yourself thinking things like, "Gee, if I make that, I'll be having leftovers for a damn week, and I really don't want to eat that every night 'til the weekend."  Or you find yourself contemplating just how full your freezer will be with uncooked meats and leftovers, and becoming quite depressed over never having anything new to eat.

Anyway, tonight I made glop.  Glop is something I used to whip up all the time when I was married to Cookie.  (That would be from '93 to '97, in case you're keeping track.)  It's a suitable bachelor meal, too.  Here's the recipe:

Glop

Cook 1½ cups of rice per package instructions. (Do not use Minute Rice. It sucks.)

While rice is cooking, brown one pound or so of ground turkey (or your favorite ground meat or meat substitute) in a big skillet. Season with oregano and freshly ground black pepper. When browned, drain off any fat. (This won't be necessary if using ground turkey, probably.)  Then toss in a healthy amount of worcestershire sauce. Use enough to coat the meat.  (I like where's-your-sister sauce, so I use a lot.)

Then stir in a can of your favorite cream based soup. (Other options include tomato or cheese soup.) Add enough milk to give a moderately thick consistency. Stir in ¼ cup of grated cheese, if you're so inclined. Heat thoroughly and wait for rice to finish cooking.

When rice is done, stir it into the skillet mixture, season with salt and more freshly ground black pepper to taste, then glop it onto plates. Serves four, usually.

Of course, I was so out of practice that I forgot the salt & pepper, as well as the grated cheese.  No wonder it tasted a bit bland. 

Or maybe it's always been bland and I just never noticed.

Despite my newfound positive attitude, things are not always good.  Nights are still very difficult.  I crave human companionship so badly, especially in the evenings. 

When I was at the coffee shop tonight, I was calling damn near all my local friends.  ladyluck was going to come over and hang... but Sunday is TV night, evidently.  (You're an addict, do you hear me?   )  No one else even answered the phone, though Alice eventually called back, obviously.

But as bedtime approached (and yeah, right now I'm well past it), my spirits dropped.  It's so hard going to bed alone.  And no... it has nothing to do with sex.  It has everything to do with just knowing that someone's there... the intimacy of being close to someone. 

I miss that a lot.  Obviously.  As it's now 1:00 in the morning.  And I don't want to go to bed.

When I was a kid... maybe 7 or 8 years old... I decided that "boogers" was the funniest word in the world.  Don't ask me why.  I was a kid. 

So I got into the rather warped habit of spontaneously yelling it out loud.  I'd be walking along the streets of my small town (alone, I'd like to point out, with no one in sight), and just blurt out, "BOOGERS!"  Then I would laugh at myself.

I was a strange child.

And of course, things haven't changed much.  I still think it's a funny word, and will routinely come out with it as a laugh-inducer.  (And yes, I mean my own laughter just as much as anyone else's.)  Generally, you have to know me pretty well before I'll let that one out, though.  So if you're around me, and out of nowhere I come out with, "Boogers!"... well, it just means that you've been accepted into the inner circle.

Feel flattered.

It's okay to feel mildly disgusted, too, but don't forget to feel flattered.

Now... I really can't explain why I liked to say "Penis" out of my apartment window when I was in college.  So don't ask me to try.

Some of you - especially the two of you who'd left comments - may have noticed that there was an entry posted in the wee hours of yesterday morning, and now it's no longer there.  I'm not fond of removing blog entries once they're "out there."  But in truth, it was an entry that almost certainly never should've been put online to begin with.

There were two major issues discussed, and one minor one.  And it wasn't the minor one that was problematic.  See, the thing about blogs is that they're rarely about only the blogger's life.  They involve the lives of others, too.  And sometimes... well, sometimes it's just not right to share significant information about the lives of others without their permission, no matter how much that information is part of your own life, too.

That's what I'd done, and even as I was spending a ridiculous amount of time fine-tuning that blog, I guess I knew I shouldn't be doing it.  A blog entry shouldn't take two hours.  My brain was warning me.

Anyway.  Let's just say that the two major issues were very different in nature.  Both involved ongoing drama in my life, but one was very, very bad, while the other... wasn't.  It was very, very nice.  And that's all I'm going to say about them.

At least for now.  Both of these have the potential to impact my life considerably in the long-term.  So we'll see.

The minor item from yesterday's entry was this:  After work on Tuesday, I had a gaggle of gals over from the orifice.  It was a really fun time.  We all sat around, got to know each other better.  Who was there?  Alice, Laura, Melissa (whose last day before maternity leave is tomorrow), ladyluck (finally!), and of course, stalkerchick .

I'm hoping to be able to do many such get-togethers, not just with this gang, but with others in the office.  It's all part of Cardigan's new social life.

Speaking of a social life...  I didn't go to last night's poly meeting.  Not because I didn't want to, but because I would've been pretty rushed to get there.  I had a lot of stuff going on after getting home, and by the time the meeting was set to begin, I was still eating dinner.  Besides, they were expecting a very low turnout, so I'll just wait until next month's.

But because I was home, I ended up going out, anyway.  My neighbor Tiffany stopped over to ask me to watch for a UPS delivery for her sometime, and if it's there when I get home from work, to snag it from the doorway.  I noticed she was wearing a coat, so I asked if she was coming back or headed out.  She said she was thinking of going for ice cream at Coldstone.  As it happens, I scored a couple of $5 gift certificates to Coldstone at yesterday's CalSAE Seasonal Spectacular (a huge annual trade show geared toward meeting planners).  I flashed these, and she immediately said, "Wanna come?"

On the way there, she gets a cell phone call from her friend Heather.  (Yeah.  Tiffany and Heather.  I'm not making this up.)  Heather was actually driving not far behind us on the same street.  She met us at Coldstone.

We were there for close to an hour, until they closed, and then stood outside in the parking lot and chatted for probably another half hour.  It was a lot of fun. 

Both are very cute and very personable and very single.  However, both are exercise freaks, and such folks tend to eschew going out with those who... um... aren't.  Tiffany is also to that stage of "I just want to get married and have kids," and we all know how well that fits in with Cardigan's life.  Meaning, not at all.  (Not that she's really my type, even aside from that.)

Heather has proclaimed that she's "retired" from dating.  We'll see how long that lasts.  She's only 29.  Kinda reminded me of Allyson Hannigan a little, too.  Very cute. 

It would be fun to hang out with them again.  And as I said to them, Cardigan's Place has no cover charge and the drinks are free!

One of the things that has occurred to me, lately, is that the vast majority of my friends here are female.  I can probably count the number of guys I spend time with on one hand.  Okay, I might have to use both hands, but I definitely don't need to remove any shoes.

Is it because I just like to be around women?  Well... I do like that, yes.  But I seem to have much more in common with women than men.  This has been true for most of my life.  I've always had lots of female friends.  But I don't think the ratio of female to male has ever been as high as it is currently.

Not that I mind...

Twenty-five years ago tonight, John Lennon was assassinated in New York City.  It just doesn't seem like that long, to me.  I'm not about to say that it seems like it was just yesterday, but it sure doesn't feel like a quarter century.  (Besides, Paul wrote "Yesterday," not John, and I don't want to mix my musical references.)

As I wrote about here, I was in NYC for the tenth anniversary of his death.  I'd really planned to be there this year, too.  But circumstances just wouldn't allow it.

Normally, this is a day of... well, not mourning, exactly... a bit too much time has passed for that.  But it's always been a day of remembrance and reflection, of sadness and of hope.  I always play "Imagine" on this day.  I honestly consider it to be the best song ever written.  And most of the time, I just have a very mellow evening on Dec. 8.

Today, though, was a ridiculously busy day at the office.  Personal drama also will be taking me away from home tonight.  I will definitely not be having a mellow evening.

Look, I know John was just a man.  It's not like I've elevated him to some sort of minor deity.  I know he was a flawed man, as we all are.  But he was still a great man.  His influence on the world of music alone would have immortalized him.  But for those of us who keep his memory alive with our words and maybe our deeds, it's not because he wrote "Strawberry Fields Forever."  It's because he honestly believed that Peace was attainable.  He honestly believed that we miserable humans could - if we truly wanted to - create a heaven on earth.  He honestly believed in the inherent goodness of people.

Not only did he believe these things, but he worked toward them, too.  Sure, his methods were unorthodox.  But you can't deny that they drew attention.  Sure, the cynics would laugh and say that his efforts were insipid.  But to others, they were profound, radical, fresh.

The point is that John Lennon personified peace and love to an entire generation or two.  Maybe three, for all I know.  His words and actions were every bit as meaningful as those of Ghandi, or Martin Luther King, Jr.  Or hell, even Jesus, or at least, those attributed to the probably mythical character of Jesus.

And that is why his passing should be remembered, and reflected upon.  That's why I honor his life on this day.

It's been a draining several days. 

I suppose I should mention that Lorelei has recently been diagnosed as bi-polar.  In retrospect, it's not difficult to see this.  Her manic episodes had always been fairly mild, and her depressive episodes few and far between.  But then in September, when everything pretty much hit the fan all at once, it plunged her into a major depressive episode.  She latched onto Sean during this period, and that didn't help matters any because - guess what? - he's bi-polar, too!

The two of them together is not a healthy scenario.  Yes, they understand what the other is going through.  But they don't really help each other; they just drag each other further down.  Fortunately (and wisely), they've agreed that they shouldn't talk to each other until they're both doing better.

Before her diagnosis, she was prescribed Prozac whlie in a depressive state.  And that's one of the worst things you can give to a bi-polar person.  So it just exacerbated her episodes.  She's cycling very fast, going from manic to depressed in a manner of hours.  Anyway, everything came to a head last Tuesday, with Lor in the hospital in Portland.  She was released Thursday.  Deb and I picked her up at the airport and I spent the night in Citrus Heights that evening.  Debbie spent much of Friday with her, and I spent all day with her on Saturday, including staying overnight again. Today (Sunday) she spent alone, aside from the early morning before I came back, and a brief evening visit from Debbie.  I admit, as I sit here typing this, that I'm still worried about how she'll be through the night.

Her manic episodes are tolerable, but when she has her lows... they're bad.  And lately, she's feen feeling as though she's being a burden on everyone.  She has all sorts of negative emotions, blames herself for everything, etc.

Which brings me to something she said to me on Friday night.  (Clearly, we're not hitting things chronologically in this entry.)  She called me just before going to sleep and said there was something she'd been thinking about and she wanted my thoughts on it.  Evidently, Sean has decided to go to marriage counseling with his wife, just to see if anything can be salvaged.  Lor wanted to know if I thought that was something we should do.

Now, she knows that one of my biggest regrets in life is that I didn't try to save my first marriage.  When Cookie and I finally accepted that we had major problems in our relationship, we didn't try to figure out what they were and then fix them.  We threw in the towel, because we had other people in our lives, and we didn't want to lose them.  So instead, we lost "us."

But with my recent marraige, that wasn't the case.  Lorelei and I have identified our major issues, and we've talked about them time and again over the years.  Personally, I don't really see how we can work them out to our mutual satisfaction.  But I told her I'd think about it and once she was through the worst of this disease (meaning, after her meds are fully titrated), we'd talk about it.

I really think the only reason this came to her mind is because she's afraid Sean will go back to his wife, and then she'll be completely alone.  Maybe once her medications even her out a bit, and she's thinking more clearly, she'll see this to be the case.  Or at the very least, she'll acknowledge that we've done our best at trying to make it work.

She's blaming herself for our marriage falling apart, too, and that's just ridiculous.  We were both responsible for it, and she wasn't a bit more to blame than I was.  It bothers me that she thinks she pushed me away, because she didn't.  Not in the least.

I really feel for her.  I'm so sorry that all this shit had to happen to her all at once... our separation, Grams dying, her pending loss of a home (the house has sold; she'll have to be out by mid-January), and with that, her loss of income, and now the potential loss of her new guy...  It's no wonder she's not doing well.

I wish there was more I could do.  But I'll have to be content with just being there for her, whenever she needs me.  And hope she's lucid enough to to ask, when she does need me.

I don't want anyone to think that my last entry was the sum total of my weekend.  Far from it.  But I can't say it got off to a good start.

Friday morning, for example, I stepped in a pile of dog shit outside our office.  But I didn't realize it until I'd been here for a couple hours.  I spent ten minutes in the rest room, digging the stuff out of the soles of my shoes with the tine of a plastic fork.  Fun for me!

Friday was Melissa's last day here.  She's out on maternity leave, now, but I don't think she's coming back.  A bunch of us took her to lunch, which was nice. 

Melissa's a very bright kid, very inquisitive, somewhat of a skeptic.  Except, of course, when it comes to her LDS faith...  Pity.

She was a joy to work with, and I'll miss her.

Saturday morning I sold my set of old ('89) encyclopedias.  Eighty bucks.  Frankly, more than I expected.  And yesterday a guy bought my wireless modem, also for eighty bucks.  Very cool.

Now if I can just get a buyer for the Bowflex and the five boxes of books in my living room...

The book signing went better than expected up in Placerville.  They had me out in front of the store, on the street.  Lots of folks out doing their holiday shopping.  And yes, I said holiday shopping, not Christmas shopping.  Fucking idiots who insist on the latter should be smacked in the head.  I imagine Jewish folks are a bit miffed at having their winter holiday slighted.  But then, they're pretty used to such things from the arrogance of Christianity.

Speaking of writing gigs...  I've signed on to teach another series of classes with The Learning Exchange.  I'll be doing five classes on Genre Fiction, beginning with... um... Romance writing.  (Yeah... like I'm qualified for that.  Well, I will be, by April.)  On the other hand, I've had to cancel tomorrow night's class, due to low sign-ups.  Mid-December isn't a great time to be offering a class, I guess.  Unless you're teaching Package Wrapping 101.  But that's okay, because now I can go to ladyluck 's birthday dinner!

One of the staff brought in a big plate of Pecan Tassies, one of my favorite cookies.  Dammit.  I just can't resist them.  They're so friggin' yummy.  I've had four of them.

I suppose I can splurge a little on the diet today, as I only had one meal yesterday.  For some reason, I didn't have anything to eat until after 7:00 p.m.  No, I really don't know why.

Yesterday I did some shopping.  Got five people scratched off my list.  (Including a birthday gift for Lucky.)  This included my "Secret Elf" gift for a co-worker.  Back in the day, she was a bit of a hippie... cruised around in a VW Microbus and everything.  So I bought her a copy of The Hippie Handbook.  She should get a kick out of it.  Our office also chooses a charity every year, in the holiday spirit.  So I'll also be buying a gift for a kid at the Children's Receiving Home of Sacramento, which I also did last year.  This place provides temporary emergency shelter to abandoned, abused, neglected, or molested kids.  We get a list of three items the kid wants, and we can pick from that.  Last year, finances being much better, Lor and I bought all three items for the boy.  This year, it'll have to be just one.

Lorelei called me a few minutes ago.  She's doing pretty well, but then, mornings are better for her than evenings.  She registered online with a job placement company in Portland, figuring that she'll probably move there after leaving here.  She loves it up there, and even if things with Sean fall apart, she'd still like to be in that area.

And she'll have David and Brandy, too.  Yeah, she spoke to him, and he seems willing to be her friend again.  I'm withholding comment on all that, as my opinions haven't changed much.

Well, I suppose I should get back to work.  I've got way too many projects on my desk, most of which are the pesky sort that irritate the snot out of me.  And thanks so much to Boss A, for giving me a stack of holiday cards to address to her committee members!  What fun!

It's been a rather horrid week.  I won't even waste my time commenting on the mundane stuff.  And I can't get really specific with the major stuff, either.  Let's just say that things with Lorelei sort of hit rock bottom and I've been dealing with that for the past several days.

I don't know how many people could really take everything that's happened to her in the past three months.  Let's review, shall we?  First, she and I decide that our marriage isn't really working out to our mutual best interest, so we decide to call it quits.  Then, she rebounds and gets involved with Sean... who's not exactly in a good mental place, to say the least.  Not long thereafter, Grams dies.  Already, we're dealing with three major stressors.  Of course, Grams's death puts an end to Lorelei's job, since she was her caregiver.  And in short order, it meant that she was also out of a place to live.  That would be major stressors numbers four and five.  Let's add to that:  major calamity within the family (the previously mentioned descent of the vultures), and the subsequent implosion of the relationship with Sean. 

All this within ninety short days.

And if you think she handled it all just fine, you'd be wrong.  Hell, if you think anyone could handle all that just fine, you'd be wrong.

Anyway...  it was a pretty scary ride, but I think we're over the rockiest part of it.  Now, at least, there is some sort of a plan.

All her stuff needs to be out of the house by the end of this week.  One of her brothers is here in town to help her with this.  They're going to be renting a U-Haul and moving all her things into a storage unit, back where he lives.  She'll go with him, spending Xmas with him and his family.  They'll then drive down to spend New Year's with their mother in Utah.  After that, she's going to fly back here to Sacramento in order to take care of some things.  She'll be staying with me during that time... probably two weeks or so.  And after that, she's going to go back to live with her brother for a couple/few months.

What happens after that?  I honestly don't know.  Lor needs to rediscover who Lor is.  She's spent so long defining herself by who she's with and what she does (e.g., Cardigan's wife, Grams's caregiver, etc.) that she doesn't really seem to know who she is on her own, or what she wants to do with the rest of her life.

One thing she said she wanted to do was go to marriage counseling with me, or at least have us talk more about whether we should divorce or not.

I'm honestly not sure how I feel about that.  I mean, I'm never opposed to talking about things.  I'm not even opposed to going to counseling.  But I'm not sure if she wants this because she thinks we can work things out, or if it's just due to her loneliness.

I can understand the latter.  I still have my despondent times, especially at night, when I miss being with her.  It took a while for me to get used to not seeing her every day.  But I could, at least, see her easily enough.  It's just a 15 mile drive, after all.  But now... after she goes back to her brother's in January... it'll be very rare that I'll see her at all.  He lives over 1000 miles from here.

So yeah... I can understand that she misses me.  I miss her.  That's the sucky part of separating.

But still, I have doubts about the viability of permanent togetherness, so to speak.  We separated for very valid reasons.  We want different things from the future, need different things from each other.  I honestly don't think it's in either of our best interests to reunite.  But as I said, I'm open to discussion.  So we'll see.

For now, though... I'm just relieved that the horror of this past week is over, finally.  I'm optimistic about her getting her life back in order.  That's the most important thing.

So that was this past week.  What about this coming week?

I admit... I'm sort of dreading the holiday.  I'll be spending it alone.  Totally alone, actually.  I've spent most of the Christmas holidays of the past 8 years away from my family... but I was always with Lorelei's family.  Even this year, we'd planned on spending it together, just the two of us.  But with the recent situation, that's all changed.

Deb & Troy previously invited us over for dinner on Christmas Eve.  I'm sure I'd still be welcome, even without her.  But that still leaves The Day itself with me alone.

It'll be...  Well, it'll be fucking strange is what it'll be.

I mean, this has never been my favorite of holidays... but even an atheist has to admit it's a biggie.  And to not be around your loved ones...  That's hard.

I know... it's my own choice.  I was given the option of going back to Pennsylvania, and turned it down.  Maybe not the best decision I've ever made.  But I'll make due.  It'll just be weird.

Either way, I suppose I should start my shopping, huh?

I was about to preface this with something to the effect of "It's been a weird few days..."  But then I realized that's pretty much a given, in my life.  So why be redundant?

Still, something happened today that shocked the shit out of me.  If you're a reader of Cardigan's Corner of the Web, and have a good memory, you'll know that I detest the DMV here in California.  Of the three states I've lived in, it's by far the most ridiculously inept.

Today I had to replace a missing auto registration form.  So I made an appointment (not that this has helped in the past) for 2:40 today.  I arrived at the DMV at 2:35 and was unsurprised to see a huge line of people when I walked in the door.  Then I realized there were two lines.  One for those without appointments, and one for those with them.  The line for people with appointments... was empty!

I stepped up to the front of the non-existent line, and when the clerk was done with her current customer, she called me up next.  She gave me a number, told me to have a seat and watch the monitors, which would tell me where to go.  This was new.  This DMV never had such a system before.

I waited maybe three minutes or so before my number was called.  And the process at the window was quick, since I already had the proper form filled out from the DMV's website.  I walked out of the office sixteen dollars poorer, but with a replacement registration form in hand, and all in under ten minutes.  By 2:45, I was in my car on my way outta there.  Shocked shitless, indeed.

From 3:00 to 9:00, I was at the house in Citrus Heights, helping Lorelei and her brother pack up her stuff.  Deb & Jen and their spouses (and some of their kids) were there, too, though Jen & Co. didn't stay long.

It was raining.  Figures.  It was raining on the day we moved into that house, in September of 2000.  Seems it's always raining when we move. 

What an undertaking, though.  Even after helping them for six hours, there's still a lot to do.  I can't imagine how they're going to get it all packed up and get on the road to Montana by tomorrow.

I "inherited" a bunch more stuff, and located more things I'd forgotten about... including some important paperwork that I found in a box in the garage, where it had been for the last five years.  I'd thought it was lost, for sure.  By the time I left, my car was loaded with more crap than I know where to put in this apartment.

I should've stayed longer, maybe, but by nine, Deb & her posse were leaving, and we were all wiped out.  Besides that... it was hard.  Emotionally hard. 

I said goodbye to the cats.  They'll be staying with Lor's eldest niece for a while, but who knows when/if I'll see them again?

And again... I know I'll see Lorelei just after New Year's... but all I could think about was that, two weeks later, she'd be gone.  And while I know we've separated and all... she's still my very dear friend.  And it's going to be very lonely without her around.

Speaking of rain, we had a doozie of a storm very early this morning.  Around three o'clock, if I remember correctly, having looked at the clock after being awakened by the thunderboomers.

I love thunderstorms, and we have so few of them here in CA.  It figures this one would be in the wee hours of the morning, when I wasn't awake enough to go outside and play in it.

For the past decade or so, though, thunderstorms have always reminded me of Lonnie.  I know... I haven't mentioned her in this blog before, and I'm not going to explain it now, other than to say that she was "the one who got away."  She loved storms, too.  I remember one time, when driving her home from work (we both worked a part-time job together at the mall), there was a storm coming... we stopped the car and got out, feeling the wind whipping us, watching the lightning flash, waiting for the rain to really get going.  It was exhilirating.  I loved her a lot, and that bond - our mutual love of storms - will probably always make me think of her when the thunder comes a'calling.

And while we're being nostalgic... one of the items recently moved to the apartment was my collection of photo albums.  I hadn't looked at them in a long time, so I perused one of them.  In it, I found pictures of me and Cookie, from before we were married.  What idyllic days those were... she a college senior, and I a mostly unemployed, totally smitten idiot whose life at home was a nightmare, and who relished the escapism of visiting her for long weekends at school.

I've just been thinking way too much about the past, lately.  This needs to stop.

But speaking of things I'm missing...  I really think I need to invest in a television.  Not because I miss TV shows, but because I miss watching movies.  Lor and I had purchased a big screen (50") last year, and watching movies was a real treat.  But I just can't imagine sitting here in front of the computer for the extended version of all three Lord of the Rings movies, y'know?

It would take some serious re-arranging of furniture in the living room.  I'll have to get creative.  But I think I can make it work.

Now if only I can magically come up with a few grand for a big flat-panel TV and home theater system...

It's here!  Finally!  And no, I don't mean Xmas.  Not exactly, anyway.  I mean the holiday break.  Our office closes completely during the last week of the year, so I've got 10 days of de-stressing ahead of me.

Ten and a half, really, since I left work just after noon, yesterday.  Did some shopping, paid some bills, spent some time with Deb and Troy, then chatted with StalkerChick until probably two in the morning.

Speaking of bills, my car payment is about to drop tremendously.  I really got raped by the dealer when I financed the Cruiser.  But now a credit union has offered me a re-fi where my monthly payments will be about $225/month lower than they currently are.  And it only adds 15 payments to my term!  Sweet!  I'll have the paperwork by Tuesday.  It's a better deal than the one I got from e-Loan.  Glad I listened to my co-workers and checked out local rates before accepting that offer.

One of the bills I paid that I didn't really have the money for:  my annual maintenance fees for the timeshare I'm "lucky" enough to own.  Four hundred and fifty bucks.  It goes up every damn year.  I wish I'd never gotten suckered into buying the thing.  And you certainly can't sell 'em.  Nobody wants to buy 'em. 

Today I got up late, I finished up my shopping early this afternoon.  The rest of my afternoon will be spent doing laundry, which is something I hate doing, and hate even more when I have to leave my apartment to do it.  True, it's only just downstairs in our laundry room... but there are only two washers and two dryers, and it costs $1.00 to wash and $.50 to dry.  I've got four loads today, so I won't be going anywhere for the next three hours.

Not sure what I'm going to do with my evening.  I have a lot of crap to put away... things I "inherited" when Lorelei vacated the house.  (She's on her way to Montana right now, after spending the night in Utah.  Should be nearly there, as I type this.)  And of course, I do still have gifts to wrap.

I was invited to dinner at Jen & Patrick's tonight, but I declined.  I really don't want to drive anywhere tonight.  Tomorrow, there's evidently a poker game at Deb & Troy's, and I'll probably attend that, even though it's a no-money game.  It'll be fun.  (I still don't have a table, here, so I'm going through poker withdrawal.)  Besides, a lot of the stuff I "inherited" from the old house was food... and it's in their fridge right now, so I'll need to bring it home.

I plan to spend much of tomorrow making phone calls to friends and family back east.  I didn't do holiday cards this year, even though I bought them.  I only used a few, in cases where I was sending a gift card to someone.  But I've gotten quite a few so far.  My friend Tracey usually sends a photo card, but it's always only had her children on it.  This year, it included her and her hubby.  I haven't laid eyes on Tracey in... um... wow... probably close to fifteen years. 

All in all, I think this is going to be a pretty good week for me.  I have no plans, other than to relax, listen to a bunch of music, play my guitar, read, and maybe actually do some writing!  (How weird would that be?)

Well, time to switch the first two loads to the dryers.  Then maybe a trip to Butch-n-Nellies and Noah's Bagels?  Sounds like all the more detailed a plan I care to make right now...

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Or maybe it's just that I'm jealous over the fact that I don't get enough visitors here.  Do people really utilize tags?  Guess so.  Well, fine.  I'll put 'em back in, dammit.

Sure, I have better things I could be doing with my time.  But I feel like slacking today.  Vacation's only half over.  I don't want to do anything productive, yet.

How did I ever do this, before?  How did I live alone, without a significant other in my life, and not go nuts?

If I remember right, way back to my college days...  I pretty much had my nose in a book much of the time.  But lately, I just haven't felt much like reading.  I don't know why.  I love to read, and I've got plenty of unread books sitting here. 

When I wasn't reading, I was writing.  But I haven't felt like doing that, either.  I don't know why.  I love to write, and I've got novel number three in progress, waiting for me to continue.

When I wasn't reading or writing, I was playing guitar.  I've done a little bit of that, lately.  Acoustic last night, electric tonight.  But, as has been the case for some years now, it brings me no joy.  I've lost so much in the way playing skills that I frankly just bore myself when I play.

So let's see... when I wasn't reading, writing, or playing guitar, what was I doing?  Oh, right.  I was being depressed as all shit.  And that, I've been doing quite a lot, lately, and doing it quite well.

I get angry with myself over it, which is rather stupid.  It's not like being lonely is something to be ashamed of.  Two nights ago, I actually put an ad on craigslist, looking for someone to spend New Year's Eve with me.  Half a dozen or so replies... but none very intriguing.

I also answered someone else's ad... and she and I got together last night for drinks.  It was a sort of "half-blind" date, in that she'd seen a picture of me on my website, but I hadn't seen one of her.  She's nice enough, but there was zero chemistry there.  And it's a good thing I told her up front that I wasn't looking for a relationship right now, because one thing that became crystal clear to me last night was that I'm really not fucking ready for a relationship.  I am so messed up.  I've got issues on top of issues, drama encased in drama.  I would drive anyone bananas in short order.

I really want to hang out with a friend.  But let's see...  Lucky and Alice have been mostly ill over vacation.  StalkerChick has been busy being all domestic.  Lisa's allegedly in Germany by now. (I wouldn't really know, since I haven't heard from her in forever.)  Sadie has been working her butt off.  And so on and so forth.  Everyone has... no, not an excuse... a life. And it's not that I don't have one.  It's just that I don't really like the one I've got.

But truthfully, even if my friends didn't have lives and other obligations right now, I wouldn't blame them if they came up with some excuse not to hang out with me right now.  Seems all I'm capable of doing, anymore, is going on and on about all the same shit I write about in here.  I know I shouldn't.  And I don't especially want to.  But I can't seem to help it.  It's like all my recent craziness has just built up inside me to such levels that whenever I open my mouth, it gushes out and gets all over everyone like drama vomit.

Yeah.  I definitely wouldn't want to hang around me, either.

Let's pretend you're a 16-year old kid who's recently finished writing a science fiction novel.  You have no idea what to do with it at this point, so you call up a literary agent, who proceeds to firmly (but not unpolitely) tell you that what you don't do is call up an agent and say, "Hi, I'm a 16-year old kid who's recently finished a science fiction novel and have no idea what to do with it at this point."

You hang up the phone, confused and hurt.  So whaddaya do now?

Maybe you go online, look up some stuff about publishing, and find something somewhere (I'm thinking Guru.com, perhaps) that talks about yours truly and his novels.  And lists his phone number.  And if you're a kid named Austin from somewhere in Florida, you call ol' Cardigan.  At home.

Yeah.  Talk about a very, very strange call.  But what was I gonna do?  I'm not the sort to say, "Who the hell are you?  How'd you get my number?  Do I look like a consulting service?"  No.  I talked to him.  For probably a solid 20 minutes.  I gave him the kind of advice I wish someone had given me when I'd finished my first book (at a much older age than 16, let me tell you).  I gave him a strong dose of reality, but at the same time, made him feel a lot better than the agent did.  He seemed very grateful.

That call really made my night.

Then Lorelei and I went to Hukilau for dinner, and that made my night again.  Mmm...  Kona Fries...

Yes, Lorelei is back in town from her brother's place, and will be staying with me for close to three weeks.  It'll be nice having someone around, and I think we've settled comfortably into our post-marriage friendship.  This pleases me.

I have to admit, though, she's not a bundle of fun tonight.  It's 9:10 P.M. and she's already in bed snoring.  That's okay.  It'll give me a chance to get some work done.  And chat some with stalkerchick .

Of course, I don't want to stay up real late, myself.  Today was the longest day at work!  It seemed like it would never end!  I don't know if it was just because it was my first day back in the office after ten days off, or because of my shitty night's sleep last night.  Either way, I don't want tomorrow to drag that long, so I don't want to be sleep deprived all day.  Therefore, No Truffles Before Bed tonight.  Sugar is not a relaxant.

Anyone out there having problems keeping their New Year's Resolutions?  Yeah, I'm not surprised.  I didn't actually make any, but there was that one I made at the end of November... the one where I insisted on maintaining a new, positive outlook on my life.  It's been pretty hard sticking to that, I have to admit.

I know I haven't really talked about this, but my holidays sucked.  This was the first time in my life I'd ever spent Xmas alone.  Up until I got married in '93, I spent every Xmas with my family in Pennsylvania.  Between '93 and '97, I still got home to see them, though we alternated between spending the day itself with them and with my first wife's family on the other side of the state (where we actually lived).  From '98 to '03, I spent the holiday in Utah, with Lorelei's family.  In '04, we went back to PA.  But this year...  Just me. 

I did have dinner with Deb & Troy, which was real nice.  But I didn't stick around for the poker game that was to follow.  I started feeling a bit unwell prior to dinner, and left not long thereafter.  Turns out, my ill feeling was just emotions.  I was a wreck.  The drive home was interesting, as I was on the verge of tears the whole time.

New Year's was far, far worse.  I spent most of the evening at home, burning tracks from CDs onto my new computer.  Around ten-thirty or so, I decided I was going to go out and have a good time, in spite of myself.  (Trying to keep that resolution!)  So I walked to the ATM for some cash, then ended up at Streets of London, a pub about two blocks from my apartment.  But I didn't know anyone.  The most interaction I had with others was when a table of three tweeners asked me if I'd take a picture of them with their digital camera.  Aside from that, the only two people I spoke to were a guy throwing darts and the girl who served me my Guinness.  I sucks to be lonely when surrounded by people. 

I left at about 11:45 and walked home.

The rest of that night went from bad to worse.  A deep depression hit, and stayed up until nearly 4:00 A.M.  It wasn't a good time.  My brain went to a very bad place.  I wrote out a long, rambling email to a friend.  It was pretty dark and heavy stuff.  A little scary for her, I think.  It was one of those emails you should never send, y'know?  The kind of thing you write out just for therapeutic purposes, then trash.  But no... I sent it.  And we had a very interesting, and not entirely pleasant, talk the next day about it.

Anyway...

My birthday is coming up.  January 20th, in case you're interested.  Lorelei informed me last night that she wouldn't be staying for it.  She'll head back on the 18th.  This wasn't exactly good news, to me.  I was really hoping she'd be around for it, because in all honesty, the idea of spending my birthday alone - of spending three significant days in the space of a month alone - is one I'm not currently able to deal with.

Not that I have any idea what to do about it.  Sure, I could have a big party.  And I still may, out at The Corner Pocket, where Deb works on Fridays.  But at the end of the night, I'd still be going home alone.  And no, this isn't about getting laid on my birthday.  I really don't give a damn about that (though I probably wouldn't turn it down, either).  But I really want to be with someone, one-on-one, just for some closeness.  Just intimacy, really.  Not necessarily physical, really, but emotional. 

My first choice of who I'd like to spend that time with is... well, not someone I can be with, for a variety of reasons.  Other contenders are similarly not going to happen, as I don't think they'd be comfortable with that level of intimacy at this stage of our friendship, and I'm not willing to risk it by asking.  That left Lorelei.

After she told me last night that she was leaving earlier than I expected, my mind immediately jumped to the aforementioned "first choice."  But I quickly came to realize the impossibility of that, and then my night quickly went downhill, to a place nearly as bad as on New Year's.  Despite going to bed early, I didn't sleep much.  Stared at the ceiling, tossed and turned for about three hours.  And today, there's a low-level depression underlying everything.

I feel like an idiot, of course.  But emotions aren't rational, and controlling them isn't the easiest thing to do.  Resolution or no resolution.

Golly Gumbucks!  Sage's Scribbles was the #1 Top Blog on Friday!  Honestly, I don't have any idea how to feel about that.  Friday's entry was... well, pretty much of a bummer.  It'd be nice if the Top Blog "award" went to a more creative post.

But then, I don't really do creative posts, do I?  No, I just vent about my life.  My creative stuff goes onto my website and into my novels. 

Whatever.  Thanks, everyone who voted for me!

It's looking like tomorrow I'll finally be obtaining a dining room table.  I found one on Craigslist that's just the kind I want. 

Of course, this means the Bowflex will need to find a new home.  And no, I have no idea where that's going to be.  In pieces under the bed, perhaps.  I just can't justify selling it for the pittance I'll receive on CL.  Too many other people trying to sell them, too. 

I know I should just keep it.  One day, I'll have the space, again.

I thought about writing about my shopping trip today, but decided you really don't want to know that I purchased four new pairs of Jockey underwear on sale for 25% off.  So I won't tell you.

So last night a new neighbor moved in.  Late at night.  His friends helped him.  They were fucking loud.  And probably drunk.  I wanted to throw something at them, but the windows in that direction don't open.

I'm not above calling the cops on noisy neighbors, but I'll give them one warning before I do that, in the future.

It doesn't help that the walls of this building are so thin.  I can hear people outside carrying on a conversation in a normal tone of voice.  But at least the traffic noise here is milder than in Citrus Heights.  There, I was on a main drag, with cars constantly zipping by at around 45 - 55 m.p.h.  Here, it's a residential neighborhood, and in the evenings, minimal traffic.

On the other hand, C.H. had far fewer homeless people walking around, talking to anyone who'll listen, at the tops of their voices...

So I've decided it's time for a career change.  I'm sick of what I do in my day job.  I've been doing it for a decade or more, and it's just not challenging.  The parts that aren't boring are just irritating.  And I'm sick of it.

I've always believed that a person should do what they love.  I love writing, but I'm pretty selective about it.  I don't want a job where I write all day, because then I wouldn't want to write when I get home.  And since no one's going to give me a 9 - 5 job where I sit and write novels...

Ah, but I do have a bigger passion than writing.  And that's music.  Now, I know I'm not skilled enough to be a rock star.  Okay... that's not true.  I'm more skilled than some out there, but that's because a lot of talentless people happen to make it big.  The world is fucked up like that.  So let's just say that I'm not skilled enough to be the kind of rock star I'd want to be.  Okay?  Okay.

But there are other areas of music that interest me.  I've always been a bit fascinated with the recording end of things, in the studio.  Being a recording engineer could be very cool.  Being a record producer could be, too.  So I'm going to explore some things in that direction, to see where it leads.

Certainly, I haven't the resources to quit the day job anytime soon.  Unless book sales suddenly go through the roof, anyway.

Speaking of music, I just learned that Roberta Chevrette will be playing a show on Tuesday night.  Now, I'm teaching Tuesday night, but her show starts around the time my class lets out.  So I wouldn't be too late for it, if I go. 

Way cool!

I probably could not be less productive at work if I tried.  These past two days have been just a joke.  If my boss knew how little actual work I got done, I'd be in big trouble.  Ah, well.  Things always manage to get done, and on time, even if I have to work like a maniac at the last minute. 

I just dislike what I do.  I'd hoped it would never come to this, but it has.  My job is irritating.  It's menial.  It's trivial, much of it.  It's boring.  And now I'll shut up about it, because I'm boring you.

So yes, I did, in fact, get the table over the weekend.  It turned out to be smaller than I'd thought, but also nicer than I'd though.  So it evens out.  It looks great in the dining area.  Of course, any table would look better there than the Bowflex.

And speaking of that, I may have a buyer.  A guy emailed within hours of my ad on Craigslist.  The soonest he can come get it is Thursday.  We'll see if that becomes a reality.  I'm skeptical until I have cash in hand.

So ladyluck basically convinced me to get a MySpace page.  But now I'm peeved at them...  They've aged me!  My birthday is not for ten more days.  But it already shows me being a year older than I was yesterday.  Bastards.

I haven't yet explored Mindsay's new personal Wiki pages, but I suspect they're meant to be similar to MySpace.  But unless they really overhaul the way you can find other people on this site, it'll be just a pale imitation.

So I teach tonight.  In two short hours.  I don't really wanna.  I've been tired all day.  I can't blame it entirely on the fact that I was up late chatting with stalkerchick (though I'm sure that's a big part of it).  It's also due to the fact that I have two sleep disorders: sleep apnea and restless leg syndrome.  So even when I get a full eight hours of sleep, it's rarely of any good quality.

The sad part is that when I get home from class tonight, I know I'll just get on the computer for a couple hours, staying up too late again.

Such is life.

While over on MySpace, I was searching for friends' pages by email addresses.  I found several, including one in my home town, another from a pal back in Utah, and others from local folks I like.  Very cool. 

But I also found the page of a certain someone... someone I've developed some feelings for... someone I've been having problems connecting with... someone I now realize I will almost certainly never connect with.  At least, not in any significant way.

I read over the comments on her wild page... looked at the artsy photos of her...  And I got that gut-clenching feeling you get when you realize a huge disappointment, or suffer some sort of significant loss.

She's young.  Very young.  Compared to me, anyway.  Very mature, very educated, but still very young.  And she lives a young person's life... filled with lots of young, sexy friends, and lots of young, sexy activities...  Her young, sexy friends, male and female alike, clearly love her... are in love with her...  not that I can blame them in the least.  It's... well, it's beautiful.

And devastating.

Because  no matter how young I feel inside, no matter how much younger than my real age I actually act, the truth is that I can't compete with that.  I see no place for me in her world, quite possibly not even as a friend.  Not a real friend, anyway... the kind you call up just to talk, or hang out with, or go to dinner or drinks with, or whatever.  I'll always be the "Hey, how've you been?" kind of friend on those incredibly rare occasions when we pass on the street.

I don't know what I was ever expecting or hoping for.  Just because we really like seeing each other, just because we share similar tastes in music, just because we connect on conversational levels...  I don't know.  I'm a fool.  An old fucking fool who should know better than to develop crushes on girls who (let's be brutally honest) are young enough to be my daughters.

Or even if they're in my "age range" (whatever that's supposed to mean), they're unattainable for some other reason.  I'm just dreaming, I guess.

So I guess this is the way a dream ends...  Not with a bang...

This morning, I was expecting a call on my cell, and at one point decided to check my voice mail, just to see if maybe the person had called and left a message when I didn't have the phone on me.  No, the phone didn't have the little voice mail icon illuminated, but I know from past experience that this doesn't mean much.  I've gotten voicemail notifications days later, sometimes.

So I call, and guess what?  I find three voice messages!  None from today, mind you.  (No, I never did get the call I was expecting.)  In fact, all three were from the day before Xmas!  One from my sister, one from Debbie, and one from Ally.  Let me repeat that.  These messages were more than two weeks old.  And no indication that they'd been sitting there in my voice mail box all that time.

My inclination was to call up Cingular and pitch a fit, but StalkerChick assures me that it's a problem common to cell phones everywhere, no matter the provider.  Now, if this is true, it's even more irritating.  Do I have to change my message to say, "Please leave a message... but if you don't hear back from me in a few hours, call again, because voice mail is notoriously fickle and I might not actually get your message for a month."  That's fucking retarded.  Just unacceptable. 

Guess I'll have to get in the habit of checking voice mail, even if there's no clear reason for doing so.

So yesterday I learned that my buddy Brent's father passed away.  Such shitty news.  I didn't know his dad well at all.  But his dad and mine had the same birthday.  (Not to mention Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin.)  So there was always that weird link.  Like we both cared more about each other's father because of the shared birthday.  Dumb. 

And now we'll have another commonality:  both died around the same time of year.  Mine passed away in mid-December, his in mid-January.  Five years apart, but still...

I know Brent's father wasn't a young man, but I didn't think he was in ill health.  I don't even know what the cause of death was.  His wife, Gina, didn't say.  I'll phone him this weekend.

Definitely not looking forward to work tomorrow.  Boss A has one of her boards holding a quarterly meeting here in our offices.  That means I get to attend, which is boring enough, but my assigned task at these mettings is to take minutes.

Joy.

Five hours taking minutes on subjects that are largely of zero interest to me.  Someone just slip me a mickey before the meeting so I can pass out before the meeting starts.

I've decided (finally) to go ahead and have a birthday party.  Yep, next Friday night at The Corner Pocket in Citrus Heights, where Debbie works.  Why the hell not? 

Anyone reading this is automatically invited.

So much to blog about... so clueless as to where to begin.

I suppose I'll start with what is probably the biggest thing: Lorelei left this afternoon in a generally easterly direction... home to Utah for a few days, then back to Montana to spend more time with her brother's family.

I'm of mixed emotions about her being gone.  On the one hand, it's time for her to move on.  She needs to begin her new life (and I need to really begin mine) and figure out what she wants out of it.  So her leaving is a good thing. 

On the other hand, I'll miss her.  For the most part, I enjoyed having her around.  Yeah, my apartment is a bit cramped for two people.  And I spent waaaaay too much money going out for meals and drinks so often.  But still, it was nice.  We got along just fine, just as expected.  And we had fun.

Except for last night, that is.  Over dinner, I started to get a little down, I guess.  I mean, as much as I know our separation is "right," there are always regrets, always "what ifs" that hang around.  So I said I was sorry things hadn't worked out between us.  I expected a response along the lines of, "Yeah... me, too."  But what I got instead was a bit of a civil diatribe (if that's not an oxymoron) against polyamory.

It seems to me that she doesn't "get" polyamory.  She doesn't seem to understand something fundamental about it (and the irony here is that she seemed like a virtual poster child for polyamory when we first met).  She essentially berated me for turning my back on our marriage because I wanted to be with multiple people.

This is, I shouldn't have to point out, a gross oversimplification.  It also ignores all the other issues that led to our separation.  That's one of the things that really chaps my ass about the conversation last night.  Because three months ago, she didn't ignore those issues at all.  Why now and not then?  I think it's because she had her boyfriend back then, and doesn't, now.  With their relationship in full bloom back then, she may have felt a bit guilty about it (I mean, she did hook up with him within weeks - or maybe days - of us separating), and took a more honest look at our relationship, finding all the reasons we shouldn't be together, in order to justify her relationship with him.  But now, with that relationship pretty much history, she's narrowing it all down to one issue: polyamory. And she made the aforementioned statement, which really frustrated me, because it displayed her failure (refusal?) to really understand it. 

What she doesn't appear to understand is that being polyamorous isn't something people "choose" to do.  Yes, actively pursuing a poly lifestyle is a choice... in much the same way that actively pursuing a homosexual lifestyle is a choice.  But whether or not I chose to pursue the lifestyle doesn't change the fact that I am poly.  Similarly, a gay person who remains celibate doesn't become any less gay.  And to take the analogy to the logical conclusion: if a gay person marries a person of the opposite sex, does that make for a good marriage?  Hardly.  Ditto for a poly person trying to be monogamous.  It's never going to seem quite right.

She fixated on the fact that people are not gay by choice, but because of genetics.  (Yes, this is open to debate, but I agree with this view, too.)  People, she said, are not born poly.  Well, I'm not so sure I agree with that.  But even if it's true... even if it's a result of social conditioning, of things we read, etc... it doesn't make it any less real.  People aren't born religious, either.  We become religious through exactly that sort of social conditioning.  She'd have just as much luck getting me to set aside my atheism in favor of believing in the Judeo-Christian God as she would of having me deny my poly side.

To me, it is unnatural to not "allow" oneself to develop romantic feelings for whomever elicits them in me.  And no, I really don't see any logical reason not to "pursue" such a romance, if it's welcome by the other party.  Is this a selfish thing?  Yeah, I suppose.  But so are lots of things that we accept as a matter of course.  Isn't the expectation of monogamy a selfish thing?  Hell, yes.  Does that make it "wrong"?  No.  Not if it's accepted by all parties.  No harm, no foul.

But that wasn't our case.  There was harm, to both of us.  Throughout the course of our relationship, it was mainly to me.  Denying my poly side was painful, like shutting off a part of my heart.  But accepting polyamory would've been hurtful to her.  There was no way we were able to maintain our relationship without one of us hurting.  So the only sensible solution was for us to go our separate ways.  (Especially true, given the other factors.)  She, however, seems to need someone or something to blame.  So it's me.  And polyamory.

Well, whatever helps her sleep at night, y'know?  I can live with taking the blame.  I don't like that she really doesn't "get" me, but I can live with that, too.

So speaking of my cramped apartment, it's a bit roomier, now.  Yeah, that means it is now sans Bowflex.  Got rid of it yesterday.  No, I didn't get enough for it to make me happy, but I got more than I expected, if not by much.

I can't believe how much bigger it makes the apartment look!  But then, it's a big machine.  It took up a lot of room.

I mentioned before about the thin walls here, and my new, noisy neighbors.  Well, last night was just a great example of how much I hate apartment life vs. house life.  The neighbors had a party.

I went to bed around 10:45 and could hear the bass of their stereo thumping up through the floor.  And their apartment isn't even directly below mine!  The one below me is currently vacant.  The noisy neighbors are in the next one over.

Well, I figured, being so late, it wouldn't last much longer.  I figured wrong.  I also figured the booming bass was the only thing I'd have to deal with.  I figured wrong on that, too.

These units are all non-smoking units.  So whenever these guys needed a smoke (or toke?), they went outside.  And their drunken conversation was ridiculously loud.

Finally, at 1:30, I put on some clothes and went downstairs.  Three or four of them were outside smoking.  Our conversation went something like this:

Me:  "Guys.  It's 1:30 in the fucking morning.  Come on."

Guy:  "Oh... dude... Are we being too loud?"

Me:  "Um, yeah!"

Guy:  "Oh, I'm really sorry, man.  I'll have 'em tone it down."

Me:  "I know you're new to the building, but you have to realize how paper-thin these walls are."

Guy:  "Yeah, no, I'm really sorry.  It's just our buddy's 21st birthday, and we're throwing him a party."

Me:  "Whatever."

Guy:  "Sorry."

Me:  "Okay."

And they did tone it down.  For about fifteen minutes.  Then it got loud again, the next time someone needed their nicotine fix.  But I was pretty exhausted by this point, and they probably could've set off M-80s and I wouldn't have cared.

My neighbor Tiffany heard them, too, and she's on the other side of the damn building from them!

I plan on having a nice little talking-to with them at some point.  I'll play the "friendly neighbor" card first, before I become a prick.  And it's not just the party thing.  It's also that they don't know how to park between the lines.  We have really skinny (assigned) parking spaces in our lot, and if it weren't for the fact that the space to the left of mine is vacant (due to the aforementioned empty apartment), we'd have a serious problem... because the new bozo occupies the space to the right of mine, and he's taking up too damn much room!

Speaking of parties, though... if anyone from the Sacramento area is reading this, feel free to drop by my birthday party!

When:  Friday, January 20, beginning at 7:00 p.m.

Where:  The Corner Pocket (Sunrise & Antelope in Citrus Heights)

Work today sucked.

For the past several months (ever since September, really), I've been decidedly sub-par at my job.  My boss has been very understanding about it, as I've said before, but I think her patience is at an end.  Today, for example, I spent the bulk of my time cleaning up a mess that I created by not being as on top of things as I should be.  This one situation (which I won't bore you with) came back to bite me in the ass today, and frankly, it was embarrassing for a lot of people.  Not just me, but also my boss, the company president, the CEO of a hospital, and a former Senator.  (Yeah, when Cardigan fucks up, he fucks up big.)

But the thing is, she's well aware that it's not just the melodrama of my recent life that's the problem.  It's also that I'm burning out.  I'm so sick to death of what I do, but I don't really know how to get out of it.  I lack the time and/or money to make a serious career change. 

Ha.  Career change.  I don't have a career.  I have a job.  Just because I've been doing this sort of thing for a decade doesn't mean I consider it my career.  I sure as shit don't.  I don't care about it enough to consider it a career.

I'm still drawn to a career in music.  And I found a program where I could essentially apprentice myself with a local studio, to learn the tricks of the trade, so to speak.  Timewise, it would be fine, as it's all nights and weekends.  But financially...  Well, I just don't have several thousand dollars at the moment.

Speaking of music...  Way back in '91, I recorded a song in a home studio.  It was one I'd written for my girlfriend at the time (who later became wife #1).  The following summer, I had a friend bring a small 4-track recorder to my apartment, and I recorded three more tunes, two of which were instrumental.  (And one of which I pretty much made up on the spot.)

Well, the cassette containing these things had been packed away for the past several years.  I found it during my move, and sent it off to a company that burned it onto a CD.  And a few days ago, I played them back, for the first time in probably 8 years.  And I learned something:  I actually used to know how to play the fucking guitar.

Seriously... although I was never great, I certainly had some skill.  I listened to the last track, "Pillar of Strength," and can't even remember what chords I was playing, or anything.  Now, because that one was recorded in only two takes (one for guitar, one for voice), the singing was truly heinous.  But the playing surprised me.

Sure, I can hear the flaws.  I can listen to these songs today and pinpoint musical changes I should've made at the time.  And certainly, I'm not going to be any threat to any halfway decent guitarist or singer.

But it made me really hate the fact that I've neglected playing for so long. 

Third time's the charm, right?  I hope so.  Because this is the third time I've begun this entry. 

Twice, now, I've typed a considerable amount, then deleted it.  My first one was too self-pitying, in a whiny, morose way.  My second was too self-pitying, in a sarcastic, angry way.  So maybe I should just try to reign in the emotions, since giving in to them is resulting in entries that no one would want to read.

So I'm not going to whine about my job.  I'm not going to bitch about being misunderstood by my ex.  I'm not going to complain about anything.  I'm not going to bemoan the fact that today is my birthday and I'm forty-fucking-two years old, and not happy about it in the least.

But what I think I will do is talk about fear.

In conversations with friends, sometimes this topic comes up.  We ask each other what our fears are.  Most people have lists of varying lengths of things they're afraid of.  Spiders, heights, crime, clowns, death, God, Satan, life, strangers, deer... what have you.  (Yes, I actually knew someone in college who was afraid of deer.)  But I don't have any such list.  I have a dislike of certain things I just mentioned, but no actual fear of them, really.  (Okay, maybe spiders, a little.  The really poisonous ones.  But that's just good sense.)

I guess, though, if I absolutely had to name my greatest fear, it would be fear of fucking up something important to me.  I suppose this explains why the conversation with Lorelei on Monday night bothered me so much... because she was trying to put the onus on me for the ending of our relationship.  Of course, she's wrong.  We shared the responsibility for that, pretty much equally.  But in other cases, yeah... it was all me.

I have a history of it, you see.  No, really.  I do.  It goes all the way back to 8th grade.  I'd share the story with you, but the truth is, I don't want to.  It's quite possibly my single biggest regret in my entire life, and I just don't feel like being very open about it right now.  Suffice to say that I did something very, very stupid and inconsiderate, causing great pain and probably embarrassment to someone I cared for very much, and have carried the guilt of it for nearly three decades.

One of the recurring fuck-ups of my life, again with regard to women, is that I've had a tendency to come on too strong, too fast.  I'd scare them off, maybe creep them out a little.  Evidence dictates that I'm still doing this.

Have I mentioned that because of this history, I've become a bit paranoid of fucking up?  Well, I have.  That's what happens when you have a phobia: you become a bit afraid of the thing for no good reason.  You fear that around any corner, there could be a mugger, or a clown, or - holy crap - a deer!

In my case, the paranoia is that I'm going to fuck-up any and all potential relationships.  And this is in full force right now.  See, there's someone I care about a great deal, someone I've been getting to know recently.  In fact, she and I played this "what's your greatest fear" game.  At the time, I told her I didn't really have any specific fears.

Obviously, I was wrong.  Because I have a huge fear, and it directly applies to her.  My fear is that the more she gets to know me, the less interest she'll have in me, the more mundane she'll find me to be.  Do I have any real reason to think that these thoughts are going through her head?  Nope.  But I suppose this fear is fueled by another fear: that she's maybe put me on a pedestal, a little...  That she holds certain illusions about me as truths.

I don't know what to say to her about this, because (let's be honest) it's flattering as all hell to be put on a pedestal, to have someone think you're too cool for words.  But inside... even when she says wonderful things to me... I cringe a little.  Because I don't see myself as deserving of the praise.  Because I think all I'm going to end up doing is fucking things up somehow.

Because I'm a paranoid wreck with no self-esteem to speak of.

Happy Birthday, Cardigan...  Your gift is the realization of just how beyond horrible your self-image is. Don't spend it all in one place.

Sounds about right to me...

C	Cheesy
A	Appreciative
R	Revolutionary
D	Dysfunctional
I	Insane
G	Glamorous
A	Amazing
N	Nerdy

Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com

A few months ago, I blogged about a former friend of mine who has a certain tunnel-vision when it comes to me.  I wrote of how I'd emailed him, in the hopes of opening a dialogue between us.  After all, it's been eight years since we've spoken, and I thought maybe he'd had time to look back and realize that perhaps things weren't exactly as simple as he believed them to be, and just maybe, he might not have been entirely correct in his assumptions.

Well, after three months with no response, I figured he either hadn't received it, or (more likely) just read it and deleted it.  I might have been mistaken, though, because Saturday morning I logged in to find a comment from him on another entry here.  It was vindictive, sarcastic, arrogant, spiteful, and therefore, quickly deleted.

And y'know, I find this odd, because if this is a person who wants nothing further to do with me, why would he (as he claimed) have been lurking around for quite a while?  I can only assume that, after receiving my email, he's been checking this blog every now and again, and finally decided to speak.  Of course, it would be even more ironic if he'd been lurking before getting my email.  This, too, wouldn't surprise me.  I used to have a guestbook on Cardigan's Corner of the Web, and he once left a similar rude, nasty comment on it.  (He left it anonymously, but I traced it to his ISP and knew it was him.  Not that I needed to.  No one else of my acquaintance would've done such a thing.)

So why this quasi-cyber-stalking?  Beats me.  It's almost as though he still considers me a threat to his relationship with his wife (who is my ex-wife).  She often told me the the only time they argued was when I was the subject of conversation.  Is it possible that he's bothered by the fact that she always defended me?  On some level, he may know how wrong he is about me, and about what happened 8 years ago, and is just in denial of it. 

Why should he maintain this skewed vision so ardently?  I'm not sure of that, either, really.  He may be afraid that if he and I were "okay" again, that something might resume between me and my ex.  That's just speculation, of course, but I sure can't think of any other reason for such venom after so many years.  

But I will address one of the things he accused me of...  After calling me pathetic, he said that I wear my depression "like a badge of honor."  This just demonstrates how little he knows me, how he clings to the assumptions that allow him to feel superior to me.  Is it "pathetic" or in some way vainglorious of me to write about my life in a blog, including bits that are anything but self-flattering?  I don't think so.  (But hey... even if it is... who among us isn't pathetic at times?)  I don't do this to solicit pity, to get people to fawn over me or anything.  Yes, I do it as therapy.  In some weird way, putting it out on the 'net for the world to see is more therapeutic than writing in a private diary that no one but me will read.  I don't know why or how, but it's true.

And beyond that, I do it because I know how helpful it can be to others to read the private, personal thoughts of strangers.  I've often read the writings of others and have thought, "Wow...  I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels that way sometimes."  It's another way of uniting people, in some small way... a way for us to feel less like isolated aliens in a sea of strangeness.

And to be fair, I do tend to blog mostly when I'm down.  When I'm "up," I don't generally think about typing a blog entry.  I'm usually doing other things, and feel no need to share all the good times on here.  Maybe I should, so that people don't get the impression that my life is a festering shithole, and that I'm inclined to step in front of a CalTrans bus.  But as Tolstoy said, "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."  Reading about people who are happy is boring.  And I'm not here to bore you.

What a weekend...

Friday, I went to check the mailbox and was rather shocked to find a card in there from my older brother.  I was shocked because he rarely remembers my birthday, and on those occasions when he does, he usually just calls.  It's unheard of for him to send a card that actually arrives on my birthday.

Yeah. 

It was a Christmas card.

The birthday party at The Corner Pocket went pretty well.  There were a dozen or so in attendance, mostly co-workers, but also friends from publishing and pagan circles.  I made the mistake of buying snacks for the shindig at Costco.  Less than half of it got eaten, so now I've got copious quantities of junk food in my cupboards.  Not what I need, let me assure you.  I'm gonna have to invite another bunch of friends over after work one night just to use some up!

Truthfully, I wasn't much in a party mood all day Friday.  I was still pretty distraught over this whole thing.  But then, about an hour or so into the party itself, that certain someone and I had a talk, and all was made better.  Why she puts up with me, I'll never know. 

Afterward, I was in a pretty good mood.  And I was really happy that my buddy Rob showed up.  He and I met a few years ago, not terribly long after I moved to Sacramento.  I met him on ICQ, while actively searching for people here to become friends with.  We'd gotten together a few times back then, but then he went and got married, bought a house, had a kid... all that stuff.  And though we exchanged the rare email, we didn't see each other again.

Then this past October, we bumped into each other at the pagan festival up in Placerville, exchanged numbers, and all that.  We talked for a couple hours Friday night, and it's good to know I've got a male friend to hang with now and again.  He lives out in Fair Oaks, but I think I've enticed him enough with my beer inventory to get his ass down to Sacramento.

Saturday I meant to go to one of the poly luncheons here, but totally lost track of time.  Besides, I had to clean the apartment and do laundry that day, or it wouldn't get done.  Naturally, they had a huge turnout, including two people I was really hoping to meet in person.

That'll teach me to keep a clean home.

One of the things that caused me to lose track with time:  I talked with Brent.  We talked about his father's passing, and how strange it feels to him.  His father's death was sudden.  He hadn't been ill or anything.  It came as a shock to everyone (probably not least of all, the man himself), and understandably, Brent was pretty shocked by it.

Except in the cases of illnesses, people don't generally assume that the last time they see a loved one will literally be the last time they see that person.  Hell, even when I last saw my father, in the hospital in December of 2000, there was still a part of my mind that was in denial of the finality of it all.  Rationally, I knew I'd never see him again.  But irrationally, I felt he'd bounce back from this latest close call and I'd see him again the next time I could fly home.  And I'll never, to my own dying day, forget my older brother calling me two weeks later.  "Dad died," he said.  And I can still, 5 years later, hear the exact sound of his voice, the precise intonations on those two words.  It was a shock, though it really shouldn't have been.

I also had a date Saturday night.  It was with a girl I met over on MySpace.  We ended up going to Hukilau - mmm, kona fries - for dinner, then to Elixir for drinks.  I think the date went well.  I'm not certain, though.

Truth is, I'm really inexperienced with the whole dating thing.  Aside from my three long-term relationships and the one poly relationship I had, I've only had maybe five or six dates in my entire life, and half of those were with the same girl.  (No, we never dated more than a couple weeks, and she's now married to one of my best friends.)

Regardless of how well the date went, we've been chatting almost daily in email for the past two weeks, and have established a pretty good friendship.  So even if nothing further develops, I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other fairly often.

Sunday I played D&D!  Yay!  Yes, I'm a friggin' geek, but I don't care.  My friends Susan & Steven invited me over (and have been doing so unsuccessfully for a while), and we played from noon to about five o'clock.  Time flew by, just like in my early days of playing.

The party needed a wizard, so I obligingly ran one.  I rarely do magic-using characters, though, so I was pretty twitchy about it.  I figured I'd buy the farm early on.  Not so.  Survived unscathed, in fact.  And did fairly well for myself, really.  We'll see if that carries over to next week's game.

I stayed for dinner, too.  Susan and I talked a lot about the publishing biz.  She's quite fond of my work, and claims she's going to send a copy of my latest book to Jon Stewart, if she can figure out a way to guarantee that it'll get into his actual hands.  Good luck with that one, Susan!

I grew up in a small town.  Very small.  So small that there was no crime to speak of.  People didn't lock their doors when they went out, on their cars or their homes.  It just wasn't necessary.  And to alter a familiar expression:  You can take the boy out of the small town, but you can't take the small town out of the boy.  It was years after leaving home that I finally got into the habit of locking up.  But I never developed the kind of xenophobic paranoia that lots of people have.

Case in point, my neighbor Tiffany.  (Tiff, dear... if you're reading this, know that I'm going for the humor... please take it accordingly!)  Now, she's never lived alone.  Her adult life, she's always lived with someone, usually a boyfriend, but at the very least, a female roommate.  Currently, she's alone.  And her paranoia is heightened.  Like this past evening, for example...

I'd agreed to meet a friend for dinner at 6:30.  At about 6:00, just about ready to leave, my phone rings.  "Are you home?" Tiffany says in a whisper.

I want to say, You called me at home. I answered the phone... what do you think?  Instead, I say "Yeah. What's up?"  

She whispers, "There's a guy out in front of my door. I don't know him."  

I'm thinking, Yeah.  So answer the door and find out who he his and what he wants.  But I can tell she's scared, so I look out my peep hole.  Sure enough, there's a guy there.  I can see the back of his head.

"I don't like this," she says.  

Now, I'm not sure what she wants me to do, exactly.  So I say, "Hold on," and put the phone down. Then I go outside. "Hey," I say. "Looking for someone?"  

He turns, reaching under his arm, and pulls out something that makes my stomach knot.

Oh, shit!

It's a Sacramento Bee.

"I'm already a subscriber."  Four little words would have shut him the hell up.  But no.  I don't think to say that.  Instead, I say, "I read it at work."  A fair lie. But not a good lie.  

"You work seven days a week?"  

"Yes" would've been a bad lie.  At least I have sense enough to realize this.  "Well, no," I say, then proceed to sidestep all his arguments, as he deflects all my objections.

It's a solid, and I do mean solid, three minute pitch.  And in case you didn't know, three minutes is a looooooong time to listen to a sales pitch.  He eventually resorts to pity. "You don't wanna help me get my trip to Lake Tahoe?"  

Lake Tahoe is two fucking hours away. Get in your damn car and drive up there.  "I do, but I'm not gonna.  You're very persistent.  Good luck."  

He leaves, rather abruptly.  I go inside and get back on the phone.  "Boy do you owe me big time."  

"I didn't know you were gonna go out there!" she says.  Well what did she want me to do? Just stand there staring at him through the peep hole?  

By this point, I'm going to be late for dinner, so I tell her I'm about to leave.  "You are? Me, too! Can you wait just a second and walk me to my car?"  

Jesus.

"Sure."

A minute later, we're on the landing between our apartments.  "He knocked, and I thought it might have been you, so I said hello," she explains.  She locks her door.  And the deadbolt.  Tests the knob.  "When I saw it wasn't, I got scared."

I told her I understood, even though I didn't.  I'll never understand that level of paranoia.

Three steps down... "I locked my door, didn't I?  I locked my door?" 

I've come to a realization recently regarding why I've been reacting the way I have been to certain situations.  For example, why have I been treating as some sort of horrendous tragedy the fact that Sadie and Lisa have basically cut me out of their lives?  It's not like I was particularly close to either of them.  Hell, truth be told, I barely knew them.  Sure, it hurts to be cut out by anyone you like, even mildly... but why did I take this to such an extreme?

Because of my abandonment issues, that's why.

When I was going to counseling, last fall, this was one of the issues we spent a lot of time talking about.  I've always found it a bit hard to believe that so much of our lives allegedly is heavily influenced by things that happened to us when we were really young.  For years, I denied that I had any kind of abandonment issues, even though Lorelei kept insisting that I did.  Hell, I never even thought of my childhood situation as "abandonment."  But she insisted that, whether I called it that or not, that's what it was.

And of course, she was right.  My mother left me with her parents and moved across the country when I was, I think, five.  I never again saw the man I'd thought was my father (but wasn't; Mom never married my real father).  I grew up with a wonderful family... just not with my mother.  And that's certainly a good thing, believe me.  She was a bit psycho.

Nevertheless... my counselor showed me, in no uncertain terms and in multiple ways, how my abandonment issues have affected so many different things in my life, and continue to do so.  It was creepy, honestly.  I'd mention something I was having a hard time with, and she would show me how it directly traced back to my childhood deal. 

Yesterday, I finally saw the connection between the Lisa/Sadie situation and the abandonment thing.  It makes perfect sense, in light of what she my counselor showed me.  Without that light, it was just a mass of confusion.

It's not like this revelation makes things easier to deal with.  Well, I suppose it does, in a way.  Knowing the reason behind the excessive (and inappropriate) feelings I've had lately actually does allow me to stop and reassess.  It doesn't allow me to use "abandonment" as an excuse or anything.  It doesn't allow me to "blame" my mother for all this.  But it does help me to put things in perspective, and (I hope) to prevent myself from going down that road again.

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K.

I believe I mentioned some time ago that Boss B accepted a new position under our company's general umbrella, and so I no longer support her.  Except I do, in that her replacement still hasn't been hired, and someone's gotta handle the stuff attached to her groups.  (For that matter, she still handles some of those duties, since... again... someone has to.) 

In the meantime, another new VP came on board a bit ago, to replace a different one who'd left several months ago.  She didn't have a support staff attached to her, so I just sort of took it upon myself to help her out whenever she needed something done.

All this while continuing to support Boss A, who could easily keep me busy full-time all by her lonesome.

Well, this good deed didn't go unnoticed.  Last week, the boss of bosses called me into his office and told me how much he appreciated me helping out the newbie, especially without even being asked to do it.  And then he made me an offer.  He asked me if I'd be willing to support her as my new Boss B, in addition to Boss A.  (Old Boss B's future replacement will have someone else to support him/her, whenever he/she comes on board.)  Further, he said he wanted to give me a 5% raise, on top of the 3% raise we all just got on Jan. 1.  (Translation:  Boss A lobbied for it and won.  Isn't she great?)

So, just so you're on the same page with me:

Boss A is still Boss A.  Boss B is no longer my boss, although I'm still supporting her and her group until her replacement is hired.  The new VP is my new boss... and will be called Boss B from here on out.

Now, the funny part of this is that the committee that new Boss B has is the same committee that old Boss B inherited toward the end of last year.  So, really, I'm not doing any more work now than I was last fall.  Except I'm still doing more than I should be doing... hence the raise.

If you don't have that all straight, it's okay.  Today's quiz has been cancelled.

Melissa stopped by the office today with her new baby (six weeks old today).  We went to lunch with Alice & Laura.  It was nice.  I bought her lunch and gave her a gift of several tubes of lip balm that Lorelei made (they're great!).  Melissa is a lip balm junkie, apparently, and she got all excited when she saw them.

Her baby's really cute.  And coming from me, that's saying something.  I think most babies are goofy looking.  Then again, Melissa's beautiful, so her daughter being a cutie pie is no surprise.

Sunday I played D&D again.  Same group as last week, with one addition.  Kassi had a friend join us.  And oh my freakin' gawd, was her friend annoying.  She's fourteen, and like most teenagers, thinks she knows everything.  And sarcasm didn't just drip from her, it was more like a high pressure hose.  And of course, she would just not shut up the entire game.

It's very rare that I ever have the urge to bitch slap someone, and this is the first time I've ever wanted to land a good backhand across the face of a teenage girl. 

If she doesn't calm down and act a little more mature, the next gaming sessions are going to suck big time.  After this one, Steve told Kassi that she needed to talk to her friend about it, because she made the session a drag for everyone.

Several weeks ago, I refinanced my car through a local credit union.  In case you've never done that, what's involved is getting a payoff figure from the existing leinholder (in this case, Chrysler), sending them a check in that amount to pay it off, and getting a new loan in that amount from the new lender. 

The bean counters at Chrysler apparently don't know how to add, though.  Or subtract.  Or something.  Because in today's mail was a check for $50.98... the amount of overpayment caused by sending a payoff check.  An amount, you'll note, that was quoted by Chrysler.

Idiots.

The end of an era, I guess.

Y'know that feeling you get when you're really tired, and you close your eyes, and they sorta burn a little?  And yet, you don't want to open them, 'cuz it's a burn that tells you that you need to keep them closed?

I like that feeling.  I'm having it now.  Of course, I'm still at work, so I shouldn't be having it now, nor enjoying it quite so much.  Blame it on a late night on the computer, plus the post-lunch urge to nap.

ladyluck and I were talking about weird sleep activities today.  She told me how she apparently washed a pair of nightpants (is that a real term or should I just go ahead and take that nap?) in her sleep, once... waking up to find that she was wearing different ones than those she wore when she went to bed.

I've never done anything quite like that.  I don't think I've ever actually done anything more than mumble in my sleep.  But I've sure known some friends who have!  My friend Mike, as a kid, once sleep-walked (slept-walked?) into his sister's room, took a shirt from her chair and threw it in her trash can before going back to his room.  Another time, he fell out of the top bunk onto the floor... and didn't wake up.  (I know that's not in the same category, but it's damn impressive.)

I once watched Mike's kid brother Larry crawl down the stairs, totally asleep.  That was interesting.

My college roommate Gina once sang in her sleep.  Or perhaps near-sleep.  Not sure.  We'd had a poker game that night and she'd gone to bed.  My friends Brent & Marshall were still there.  Brent was Gina's boyfriend at the time (now husband).  Marsh got up to use the restroom, which was right next to Gina's room.  And he stopped, hearing Gina singing.  Brent went over and listened.  She was singing, "I lo-ove Bre-ent" over and over.  He was quite embarrassed.  Marsh and I were quite amused.

Lorelei's older brother evidently used to get up in his sleep and pee in strange places.  Clothing drawers...  Toy boxes...  (Good times, as Lucky would say.)

And I won't even begin to share the kinds of things my first wife did in her sleep.  They're really "out there" and y'know what?  You wouldn't even believe me, anyhow.

Okay, there is something I do in my sleep.  I have Restless Leg Syndrome.  Or perhaps it's Periodic Limb Movement Disorder.  Or both.  Who knows?  It's never been professionally diagnosed.

But ever since I was a kid, I've kicked my legs in my sleep.  My older sister (15 years older) and I would sometimes share a bed when she was home for summers, when I was a young lad.  She'd often say, "You about kicked me out of bed last night."  I had no idea what she was talking about, and dismissed it as her just exaggerating.

However, it seems that even as an adult, I kick my legs like I'm swimming or running a race in my sleep.  Or sometimes, I'll just slowly raise my leg (meaning bend it at the knee while on my stomach until my foot is straight up in the air) and then let it fall down, thumping the bed.  Evidently, I do this a lot.

Even while awake, it's rare than I'm not bouncing a leg, often without conscious realization.

Add to that my sleep apnea and you might understand why my sleep isn't quite as restful as it should be.

But at least I do sleep, unlike a certain stalkerchick I know.

This was a good day... despite the fact that I didn't get enough sleep and was a bit run down all day.

I was pretty productive Monday and Tuesday, so I took it a bit easy at work today.  Took care of urgent things (and there are always "right now" things that pop up) as well as a few easier tasks.  Tomorrow will be busy, so I convinced myself that I deserved a mid-week break.  (I'm good at that.)

Had lots of fun with ladyluck at work, too.  She was in a weird mood.  That's always good.  I told her I was glad she was my friend.  And I really am.

I often bemoan my lack of social life... and yeah... I don't have much of one.  But one thing I do have is some great friends.  I probably don't tell them often enough just how important they are to me, but they are.  So thanks, masivemaple and siannon and beccapooka and stalkerchick and Gary (I know you read this; get an account, already).  You guys rock.

I have to say I'm feeling more and more like a bachelor every day.  Despite the fact that I have a fridge full of lots of yummy things I could've made for dinner, I had Honey Nut Cheerios.  And I'm perfectly fine with that. 

Tonight was the monthly Sac-Poly meeting.  I finally got to meet one of my new MySpace friends there - Shannon.  We chatted about comic books most of the time, I think.  It's interesting, because her heyday of comic buying was actually after I stopped collecting, so while there was some common ground, lots of the stuff she had been into was unfamiliar to me, or only barely so.  It was a cool conversation.  I really enjoyed talking with her. 

And in an apparent internet anomaly... she turned out to be even prettier than her pics online.  Usually, the photos people put online are those that are most flattering.  Shannon's pics are very nice.  But they couldn't compare to the real thing.

When I got home, I noticed the interior light was on in Tiffany's car, so I let her know.  She then invited me over, and we chatted while she scanned a bunch of pictures for a gift project she's working on.

She learned an awful lot about me tonight, probably more than she ever wanted to, such as the poly thing and the whole history of my relationship with Lorelei, including the tail end of my marriage to Cookie.  There was a lot of relationship talk.  She showed me the slinky black dress she's gonna wear when she goes out dancing with Heather on Friday.  And so on.

Guess we're girlfriends now. 

Friday night, I went out with ladyluck and her roomie to The Corner Pocket and had an absolutely great time.  The Roomie got pretty blitzed and we actually left him there, since he felt he had a high chance of scoring with this one girl.  Whatever.  Ah, to be young and inebriated.  I have no idea how the rest of his night went.  Guess I'll find out tomorrow.

While we left him to his fate, Lucky and I hit Taco Bell.  We agree that the Crunch-Wrap Supreme should be called the Mexican Orgasm.  Damn, those are good.  The drive-thru line was really backed up, but tell me... what good does honking your horn do in a situation like that?  Idiots.

I spent Saturday afternoon in Auburn, meeting one of my favorite authors.  It was quite a thrill to hang out with him, even if he did get a bit too drunk.  (Ah, to be old and inebriated.)  I was quite flattered that he enjoyed spending the day with me, and even more that he really likes my work.  He's 77, and lives in a retirement community up there.  I don't think he has much of a social life.  It was an eye-opening experience, professionally.  And a little depressing.

Yesterday I received the invitation to my high school reunion, being held on July 1.  I'm undecided about it.  On the one hand, I've been to all the other reunions (despite having hated high school), and would definitely like to see some of my old friends.  On the other hand, it's 2500 miles away.  Finances are tight, and I'm just not sure I really want to use a week of vacation to fly home.  (I'd need a week in order to avoid death, because so many of my friends would kill me if I didn't make time to visit with them.)  And I didn't go home for Xmas this year, so this would be a convenient excuse.  But still...  I just don't know.

I was planning to go back up to The Corner Pocket today for their Super Bowl bash.  They were featuring an all-you-can-eat pasta bar for only $8.  But I decided against it.  I don't need a bellyful of pasta, for one thing.  Nor did I need to spend more money on booze this weekend.  Friday night was plenty.

So I did laundry instead... and came to discover I'd spent less money on Friday than I'd thought.  Evidently, I tucked fifteen bucks into a shirt pocket and forgot about it.  I discovered it while removing the clean shirts from the laundry basket.

Anyway, I followed the score online.  Second half, anyway.  While I'm certainly getting a kick out of Pittsburgh winning another Super Bowl, the truth is that it stopped being at all important to me before I'd even made it out of my teens.  It's only that childhood loyalty that even had me remotely interested right now.

Talked with Lorelei today, and it wasn't the most pleasant of conversations.  She seems to be entering the anger phase of dealing with our separation.  (Took her a while.)  She's been talking a lot, lately, about wishing she could rewind things to before September.  She liked our quiet little life, she told me today.

It's hard talking to her about this, because she's clearly not dealing well with things.  She really needs to learn to validate her own life, rather than define herself by her relationship to others.  I know she feels I pulled the rug out from under her, but honestly, that's selective blindness on her part.  She seems to be ignoring all the things that weren't good in our relationship, and is now hanging everything on polyamory.  And that wasn't even the number one thing that caused us to split!  And though it's quite possibly the biggest thing that'll keep us apart, we had plenty of other issues.  It's a shame that she's trivializing them at this point.

...Interestingly, just as I finished typing the above paragraph, she called back to apologize for taking everything out on me.  Maybe she's not as tunnel-visioned as I thought.  I hope not.  Being able to see things clearly is the only way she's going to heal from this situation.

I couldn't be more happy that tomorrow's Friday.  This has been a mother of a week.  Work has been really nutty.  Supporting four different committees is proving to be a real headache.  Especially with this bitch of a project that fell into my lap this week.  At first, it sounded like it would be no big deal.  But with each passing day, it becomes more convoluted.  I'll probably spend all day tomorrow working on it.  Bleh.

I've also got two trips for work coming up.  I've also got a trip to D.C. in early May.  Honestly, I'm not looking forward to that.  I really don't like long air travel.  But someone's gotta go, and it's gonna be me.  At least I'll be in a pretty nice hotel. 

The fact that I'll be back east in early May is another reason I'm not keen on going to my reunion in early July.  Two cross-country trips in the space of two months... I dunno.  It's a bit much.

Anyway... Even closer than the DC trip, in March, I'll be down in Riverside for a symposium.  Hopefully, it'll be interesting.  And I might be able to meet my cousin Jim.  And yeah... I do mean "meet."  We never have.  He emailed me several months ago, having run across my name online, and wondered if we were related.  (We don't have a very common surname.)  And of course, we are.  His grandfather was my uncle.

I remember Uncle James very well, though he died when I was 13.  It was very sudden... a heart attack.  I was the one who answered the phone and learned the news.  And I'm sorry, but a 13-year old should not have to tell his dad that his brother has just died. 

Now there's a memory that'll never fade... I can still hear the heartbreak in his voice when he said, "Oh, no..."  Christ.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  And I actually have tears in my eyes right now, just thinking of it.

Tuesday I met a friend after work for a quick dinner.  Taco Bell.  (Hey, there's one just a block or so from where I teach, and I had a class that night!)  Yes, I had another Mexican Orgasm.  Can't help it! 

Class went okay.  Nothing great.  I suppose, though, that I should start putting together the brand new class I have to teach in April.

But not tonight.

Can I just say that the weather this week has been mighty weird.  I mean, it's early February.  And it's been in the high 60s / low 70s... and will continue to be through next week, too.  WTF???  I know this is California, but geez.  This is nuts. 

We didn't get as much rain this winter as usual, either.  I expect it to be a brutal summer.  Can you spell drought?  F-I-R-E-S.  I knew you could.

Boss A asked me today how I was doing.  I told her honestly that, for the most part, I'm doing pretty well.  I may  not be out of the woods, yet, but I think I've at least found my way back to the path through the trees.  I told her that I do get depressed, but it's of a very mild sort.  And there are bouts of loneliness.  She said she could relate.  She said she didn't handle being single very well, either.

Relationships need to be a distinct balancing act: most people need their "me" time.  Boss A and I are both like that.  Sometimes, we just want to go home and not have to deal with another human being for a while.  Some people, though, aren't really so much into the "me" time.  My situation with Lorelei was like that.  She spent the majority of her day alone, with her only company generally being Grams... who wasn't much company at all the last year or so.  So when I got home, she was desperate for human interaction and wanted to be with me.  And yet, sometimes, I didn't want to be with anyone.  I think that was hard for her to deal with.  Of course, it wasn't anything against her.  It was just something I needed.

Now, living alone, it's usually nice to come home to an empty apartment after a day at the office.  Destressing is something I do best alone.  It's not until later at night... like right now... that I find myself really craving company.  (Actually, not so much tonight... but most nights.)  In fact, some nights it's so bad that I'll deliberately stay up until I'm so dead tired that I know I'll zonk out as soon as my head hits the pillow.  I have to... because otherwise, I'll lie there being morose.  And I'd rather not go there, thanks.

My evenings haven't been very productive.  I spend almost every night just sitting here on the computer.  And it's not like I'm even doing anything worthwhile.  I'm not writing.  I'm not researching.  No, I'm usually just dinking around online... blogging... sometimes chatting, though I don't see StalkerChick online nearly as often as I used to ... sometimes burning CDs for co-workers, as I'm doing tonight.  Nothing really deserving of so much of my time.  I swear, it's a good thing I don't own a TV right now, or I'd be an addict in short order.  And I don't mean the Discovery Channel or anything decent, either.  I'd probably be watching those fucking stupid "reality" shows and actually caring who the next American Idiot was, or whatever.

I mean...it's not like I don't have things I could or should be doing.  I've got a ton of books still unread.  Classes, as mentioned, to plan.  Books to write, signings to set up, marketing to do...  But that all takes too much brainpower.  I've just not been up to that, lately. 

So my evenings have been wasted, this week.  Okay, I taught on Tuesday.  That was productive, yes.  And actually made me some money.  But last night, I went out drinking with my friend Joe... which wasn't productive, but it was social, and I do need that.  But both nights, before and after those activities, I was here on the computer.  Playing Spider Solitaire and Hearts.  Playing with my MySpace page, as though that were somehow a significant thing.

And being lonely.  Not oppressively so, mind you.  Just enough to bring me down a bit.  Just enough to make me get a little needy... especially with a certain friend who has graciously put up with me.  I spend so much time with her at work, and yet, I'd like to hang out with her nearly every night.  It's like going through withdrawal on weekends, not being able to email with her, or sit and chat over coffee.

She's such a great friend.  Too bad she doesn't like to cuddle.  (Love ya, Lucky!)

*sigh*  I'm such a chick.

Work is being a bitch today.  The project I complained about in my last post suddenly became even more trouble.  And just when I thought I was about done with it!  Figures.  It's taking way too much of my time... time I need to devote to other projects.  But it's important.  Really important.  And that's why I'm doing it.

(And in case you're wondering... I'm on my lunch break right now... at my desk with some oatmeal.)

Speaking of work, here's something from the Delicious Irony Department.  Right now, there's a conference call taking place.  I'd sent out the reminder notice yesterday, including the call-in number and the pass code.  Well, just at the beginning of the call, I get an email from someone who says the pass code doesn't work.  Others are already on the call, but I confirm that the code I gave her was correct, then email her back to suggest she try again, as she obviously entered it wrong.  Her email bounced back as rejected by their server.  Three times over ten minutes. 

So I return from my morning break today to find the desks in my area have little plates with a slice of passionfruit pie on them.  Turns out, they're from my bosses' boss.

I asked him what the occasion was.  "Oh, nothing, really.  Just my mom keeps baking things for people who've been dead for many years, and I don't have the heart to tell her to stop."

I feel for him.  His mom's going through what Grams did, with the dementia.  Except it seems that her dementia is worse, but she's more physically active than Grams was. 

There was one incident... we returned home from shopping to find the house smelling quite smoky.  Evidently, Grams had cooked a frozen hamburger patty or two in the toaster oven.  No pan, mind you.  Right on the rack, so the grease could drip down on the naked element.  After this, we realized we should probably not leave her alone anymore, and were rather grateful when her physical activity dipped to the point where she didn't try to do much for herself.  (Lorelei spent 20 minutes cleaning that oven the following day, only to have it burst into flames when she turned it on.  Scary to think we could've returned to smoldering ruins.)

Speaking of smoldering ruins...  It's Valentine's Day.  And this is the first one I've spent single since... um... well, I dunno.  A decade and a half, anyway.  And y'know, it's not like Valentine's Day was ever anything super significant in either of those relationships.  We knew it was just a manufactured, fairly pointless holiday.  Nevertheless... if I had my druthers, I'd rather this day not exist.

But at least I'm taking the day in stride.  I even wore my red shirt to work.  Chose my red cap, too.  And yeah, the black socks with red hearts that my sister gave me, years ago.  So I'm in the spirit, I suppose.

But no, I don't have a date tonight.  I've been trying to convince ladyluck to go out for drinks, but she'd rather sit at home, watch American Idol, and sulk.

Can't honestly say I blame her.  I mean, I'd do whatever I could to make sure she had a great time.  But I can also understand her desire to not have fun tonight.  Ah, well.

Every once in a while, I think I'll dig out something old and post it here, just because it's worth posting.

The missive below is an email I sent to a former online correspondent - a Christian working in the Pentagon who took issue with my atheistic writings.  We exchanged many emails over the course of about two and a half months, back in late 1998 to early '99, and often would stray outside the realm of our religious discussion.

In 1998, I was working for Thiokol in Utah, a temp position that ended just prior to Xmas.  Since I was looking to get out of that state, I figured I might as well go job hunting somewhere else.  I'd been drawn to the Seattle area for a while, so I made plans to go up there for a week, for the purpose of job and apartment hunting.

The email reprinted below is my account of my trip there, interjected with bits of current commentary.  A memorable trip, to say the least.

I arrived in Seattle around 9:30, Saturday night [Dec. 26, 1998].  It was raining.  I appropriated my rental car and, armed with insufficiently detailed maps, attempted to take a shortcut to Auburn, where I'd booked a motel room.  (It was the cheapest I could find, a requirement of my limited budget.)

My shortcut... wasn't.  I have no idea where I drove, but eventually I found a major thoroughfare to get me to Auburn.  Auburn, by the way, was the home town of Dick Scobee, the commander of Challenger's last ride.

I found the motel, arriving there in the neighborhood of eleven P.M.  And within minutes, I wished I'd spent the extra bucks for something a little nicer. 

The first thing I encountered was the "kitchenette."  This was comprised of a big porcelain sink that had seen better days, a range top with two electric burners that looked as though they might spontaneously burst into electrical mayhem (and one of which was semi-depressed into the range top so as to only partially touch any pan placed upon it), and a refrigerator (under the range!) that, I would find, was cold enough to partially freeze a Dr Pepper, but warm enough to keep a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream in a state of partial liquidity.
        

Entering the bedroom area, I flipped on the light switch.  A warm glow erupted from a lamp on the wall.  This was a gold-tone, art deco monstrosity right out of the early 70s.  U-G-L-Y.  And it didn't throw enough light to read by even if it weren't the whole way across the room from the bed.  I noticed, however, a large lamp on the desk next to the bed.  This, of course, had loose wiring in the socket, so it would abruptly shut off at the most annoying moments.  All was not lost, however.  There was yet another light:  a naked bulb on the wall just above the head of the bed.  This was sufficient for reading, but only if I was on the bed.  If I wanted to read, say, a phone book while at the phone across the room, I was pretty much outta luck.
        

Oh, and the phone was not set up to allow outside calls without a calling card, or collect.  Even local ones.  [Obviously, this was before I obtained a cell phone.] And the TV had no remote, and certainly nothing beyond basic cable.

Then we have the bathroom.  A spot on the floor right in front of the sink was depressed, making me think that I might fall through at any moment.  I stepped over this spot whenever I was awake enough to remember.  The shower stall was tiny!  I had barely enough room to raise my arms to wash my hair.  And it wasn't recessed, either...  If I would walk straight into the bathroom without veering right, I'd smack into the wall for the shower.  This also meant that, without thinking about it, I could turn away from the toilet and also smack into the wall for the shower.  That tends to wake you up at 3 A.M., lemme tell ya.
        

On the plus side, the water there was very soft.  I had to use very little conditioner to keep my [then] long hair from being a tangled mess.
        

Okay, so that's the motel.
        

The following day, Sunday, I drove around to explore some neighborhoods.  It was raining again.  It's not exactly easy to "explore" while on unfamiliar roads in the rain.  And these roads were bizarre.  I know it's not unique to Washington state, but I'd never experienced this before:  many of the roads didn't have lines painted on them.  In place of lines, they had dots.  Raised dots, made of hard plastic or something.  Not dots on top of lines.  Just dots.  They mimicked the lines, so if it was a passing zone, you'd have a strip of half a dozen dots, then space, then another half dozen dots.  It was kind of bizarre, but neat, too, since if you strayed over too far and hit the dots, you'd get a rumbling noise that would remind you to get yer butt back over to your own side of the highway.
        

Anyway, I checked out some neighborhoods, like Kent and Renton.  Since I had an appointment the following day in Bellevue, I zipped up there to make sure I knew where I was going.  I looked at some apartment communities, finding some I liked, others I didn't.
        

I returned to the motel with Taco Bell in hand for lunch.  While I was inside eating, it stopped raining.  When I went out again, it started up again.
        

My appointment Monday morning was with a staffing service.  Yippee.  It was a lovely morning, sunny and pretty.  By the time I left the office, it was raining again.
        

The rest of my day was spent looking at more apartments.

On Tuesday, I had no appointments, so I spent the day making a couple.  Many places were unable to accommodate me during the time I was there.  It was then that I began to seriously acknowledge that I'd chosen a really stupid week to go job hunting in another city.  It was a short week, too, Friday being New Year's Day.  And some places, like the temp agency that specializes in high-paying positions, were closed all week.
        

At any rate, it didn't rain Tuesday, so I decided to make the best of my evening by going out.  I don't recall now what I did, but it wasn't much fun, I can guarantee that.

On Wednesday, I had two appointments.  The first was right in Seattle itself, so it was my first time in the actual city.  This was with an environmental company.  I received an email from them today [Jan. 15, 1999] saying that they've decided to put off hiring for that position until April, but would like to talk with me then, since they were impressed with me.  [They never called.]
        

Having some time before my afternoon meeting, I went to the Space Needle.  It was pretty cool, but I couldn't help but make the comparison to being atop the Empire State Building in NYC, and there is no comparison.  It wasn't raining, but it was hazy, so I wasn't able to see much. 
        

The afternoon meeting was another agency, but not a temp agency.  Don't ask me what they are.  I'm not sure.  Had a long chat with a frightening woman named Tanya, who said she didn't have anything right now that was quite up my alley, but she'd be in touch.  Yeah, right.  [And she never called, either.]
        

Returned to Auburn and went out that night to the "Supermall."  I wasn't sure what to expect, being used to the mall in King of Prussia, PA (which, the last time I was there, had something like 365 stores).  At any rate, the "Supermall" fell far short of that.  But while it didn't have all that many stores, some of the ones it did have were fairly cool.  Especially a bookstore called, of all things, "Foozles."
        

Foozles didn't have the variety of, say, Barnes & Noble or Borders.  But what it lacked in selection, it more than made up for in price.  I bought four books, with a total cover price of about $75.00, and paid under $25.00 for them, including tax.  Astounding!
        

Have I mentioned that the walls in the motel were paper thin?  No?  Well, I discovered this upon returning, when the couple next door had sex and I heard every bump and grind.  I wouldn't have cared so much if I hadn't been trying to sleep at the time...
        
Thursday was spent mostly inside, waiting for calls that never came.  Pity, since it was another nice, rainless day.  Went to Foozles again that night.  Four more books.  Cover price, $80, still under $25 with tax. 
        

The neighbors next door didn't have sex this night, but they did have a fight.  I got the general impression that the guy was a real jerk and that his female companion (despite the previous evening's activities) should take a hike and leave the loser.

Friday, New Year's day.  No rain again.  Boring day.  Went to the mall again, but didn't buy anything.  Oh, I might point out that I drank more coffee during this week than I would in a typical year.  [At least, back then.  Not today.]  The 7-11 next to the motel even had a machine that would make real lattes!  Not the "instant" ones most machines provide, but actual lattes, with the bottles of flavored syrup sitting next to it!  Way cool!
        

Another fight next door.  Worse than the previous one.  Lots of name calling and the woman complaining about not getting enough sex.  Geez, lady!  It's only been two days!

Saturday.  No rain.  Drove around some more, but that was about it.  Checked out Tacoma and Federal Way.  Tacoma, or at least the area I was in (along the waterfront), was lovely.  Packed my stuff upon returning.
        

I was relieved that the neighbors seemed to be out for the evening.  I was looking forward to a good night's sleep, since I had to get up early to take the rental car back and go to the airport.
        

However, I couldn't sleep.  Maybe it was the anticipation of going home.  Maybe it was the fact that my back hurt.  More likely it was all the sugar I'd consumed that day.  But I tossed and turned from eleven P.M. to 1:30.
        

Then the neighbors came home and boy, what a fight was going on!  This was serious nastiness.  I won't even begin to repeat some of the language I heard, from both of them.
        

The following two and a half hours were pretty interesting, in a morbid way.  I learned that it was the guy's birthday.  He'd turned 29 that day.  I also learned that he'd evidently been in jail for something or other (no surprise to me) and that this woman was actually his wife.
        

(Interesting side note... while flipping through channels on TV the other day, I came upon the Jerry Springer show.  There were these two guys on the show that could have been my motel neighbor's brothers!  Scary!  But that gives you an idea of what kind of guy this was.)

I also learned that the sex I'd overheard a few nights before hadn't been between him and his wife!  She accused him of having sex with someone there.  He denied it.  Then she says that she found some soiled underwear under the bed... underwear that matched the bra he'd recently given her!
        

I almost burst out laughing.  This idiot has a tramp in, she leaves her underwear behind, he finds the bra and gives it to his wife as a gift!!!  Unreal!

So does he 'fess up at this point?  No.  He says... get this... that the underwear are his!

This, of course, causes her to call him a pervert, etc...  [Note that I mentioned the underwear were "soiled."]  Oh, it just went on and on.  I can't even remember the stuff I heard, now.  My final analysis was that these were two people who either deserved each other, or shouldn't be allowed in the same state at the same time.  He was a lying butthead to the extreme, but she was a whining, spineless airhead.
        

At four o'clock, I finally had enough.  I threw my stuff in the car and headed to Denny's for breakfast. 
        

Why didn't I either bang on the wall, notify management, or call the cops?  Management wouldn't have done anything, and the other two options might have gotten this dude to get violent, and I didn't need that, thanks very much.
        

So I dined at Denny's, checked out of the motel at seven, and was on my way home.  Sleepless from Seattle.

Poor Harry.  Apparently, some of that buckshot must've lodged in his brain, too, 'cuz he's been saying the most inane things since leaving the hospital.  For example:

"This past weekend encompassed all of us in a cloud of misfortune and sadness that is not easy to explain, especially to those who are not familiar with the great sport of quail hunting."

I'm sorry... did he say quail hunting was a "sport"?  Well, in a broad definition, it may be.  But it's not a very "sporting" sport.  It would be like me playing a round of golf with Tiger Woods.  A sport, sure, but unless someone sprayed Tiger with buckshot, I wouldn't stand a chance of winning.  Let's give the quail some guns and maybe even that playing field a little.

Okay, try this one:

"My family and I are deeply sorry for all that Vice President Cheney and his family have had to go through this past week."

Awww...  yeah, I feel so bad for Dick.  He shot you, and took a little flak for it.  Yeah, let's send him some flowers... he's been through so much.  Unlike, say, someone who'd just been shot in the face!

Okay, finally, we have this gem:

"[Y]ou can see what a lucky person I am."

No, Harry.  "Lucky" would be going to retrieve your quail and finding that they'd landed in a big pile of money.  "Lucky" would be returning from retrieving your quail, losing your way back to your hunting party, and straying instead into a grotto full of nude co-eds.  "Lucky" would be being missed by your friend's .28 gauge shotgun!

I know people are just trying to make the best of a bad situation when they say things like this, but come on.  There's optimism, and then there's idiocy.  Call me a "glass is half empty" kinda guy, but when something bad happens that could've been worse, I don't think how "lucky" it was that the worse thing didn't happen. 

There are extreme instances of this incomprehensible point of view, too.  Like the person who thanks God for allowing them to be the sole survivor of some nasty accident, for example.  Me, I'd be more prone to wonder why God was so torqued off at everyone else that he killed them... if I believed in a God at all.

So no, Harry.  I don't consider you lucky.  I consider Cheney lucky that you don't return the favor.

Yes, that means it's time for the Weekend Update.  It's been pretty good, so far.  Nice to know I've still got another day of it to go!

Saturday was busy.  I met in the morning with a fellow board member for Sacramento's Atheists & Other Freethinkers. We were discussing the possibility of me taking over the newsletter editor position from her.  I'll probably do so, but I didn't commit at this time.  I think I need to get further along the path of my own recovery before I'll actually trust myself with added responsibilities like that.  I've been trying to reduce my load of work, not increase it.

That's why I stepped down from my board position for Northern California Publishers & Authors.  It was taking far too much of my time.  At one point, I was holding down something like four separate board positions for the association, and that totally burned me out. 

Newsletters are kinda fun, though.  Back in Utah, after forming the Freethought Society of Northern Utah (the link is still active, though the group isn't, to my knowledge), I did the newsletter for a full year.  I enjoyed doing it.  Of course, it was my own creation, and I determined the content (and provided most of it, save for the occasional submitted article from members).  Control freak that I am, that was my idea of a good time.  In this instance, I'd be taking over an existing newsletter.  And while I'll be able to change much of it to suit my preferences, it won't really be "mine."  Not that this is a bad thing.  It actually makes it an easier task.  I imagine by next month, I'll be to a point where I'll be okay taking on the responsibility.

After that little meeting, I did some quick grocery shopping, then headed up to a bookstore in Carmichael, where a friend was having an author appearance.  I didn't have much time to stay and chat, though, because I had to be in Citrus Heights at 2:00 for D&D.  Yay!

The game went well.  My character did get blinded by a nasty spellcaster, though.  Ah, well.  Such is life in the fantasy magical world. Nothing a benevolent cleric couldn't heal.

We played until about 8:00.  Samantha, our overly-sarcastic 14-year old, was closer to being tolerable this time.  At least I didn't want to bitch-slap her, this time.

Until she called me old.

After the game, I swung by Deb & Troy's place for a little.  Troy and I went to the Corner Pocket for a while.  Just as I was thinking of leaving, Jen & Patrick came in.  I almost never see these guys anymore, so I hung out to talk with Jen for a while.  Had to bring her up to speed on my personal drama.    It was great seeing both of them.  Wish I could do so more often.

Last night's promotional ladies were pushing Tuaca, which is a liqueur I'm pretty fond of.  A very attractive brunette came to our table and told us of the Tuaca specials going on that night, including one that would allow us to take home a cool Tuaca shot glass.

To hell with the shot glass...  I wanted to take home the Tuaca girl, instead.

Still, I did try one of the recipes tonight here at home from the little handout she gave me.  A shot of Tuaca in a mug of hot apple cider.  Yummers!

Today, AOF had its monthly board meeting here at my place.  Hey, any time I can attend a meeting without having to go anywhere for it is good with me. 

Afterward, I went out to Circuit City and picked up the software to do my taxes.  I still don't know whether Lorelei and I will do a joint return or not.  That's one reason I like the software; it'll tell me which way is better for us.  Almost certainly, it'll be a joint return, but it'll be nice to know for sure.

I don't have her W-2, yet, but that's okay.  I'm not finished with my own data input.  I wish doing my taxes was as simple as just plugging in the data from my own W-2, but it's not.  When you've got a business on the side, it's a lot more complicated.  Today I worked on them a little.  Put in my day-job income and my teaching income.  And it's encouraging... it says at this point I'm due a refund of over a thousand.  But I still have to enter my other business income and expenses.  I don't think this'll change the outcome much, though.  If anything, it might increase my refund, because I sure didn't turn a profit last year.

I've been telling my friends that my attendance at my high school reunion this summer will largely depend on whether I get a tax refund or not.  So it's looking like I'll be going.

Of course, that means I'll need to use a week of vacation time, since there's no way I'm going to fly across the country just to turn around and come back after a couple days.  The 4th is a holiday, of course, so I've already got that day off.  But I'll have to fly in on June 30th.  No way can I fly across the country, drive two hours to my home town, and get to a reunion that starts at 7:30. 

The trip will take some serious logistical planning, because I can't just go to my hometown.  Yeah, my family is there, and some local friends like masivemaple, too.  I may be able to swing over to Akron to visit Gary... it's only an hour or so from my home town.  (That chocolate mead gonna be bottled by then, buddy?)  But I'll have to go in the other direction, too.  To State College to visit Cyndi, to the Philly area to visit siannon and Brent & family...  I'll try to convince beccapooka to drive down closer to Pottstown so I don't have to go the whole way up to Wilkes-Barre.  Then maybe fly home from Philly instead of Pittsburgh.  Not visiting these folks will result in Cardigan being beaten to within an inch of his life.

The rest of my day today has been spent actually recording the CD's for Lucky, as well as putting together a couple more for Betty (another co-worker).  I turned Betty on to Grey Eye Glances recently, and so I'm making mix CDs of my favorite tracks of theirs.  GEG is probably my favorite band that's still making music.  I really miss seeing them perform in Philly. 

But speaking of performances... only five days to Roberta Chevrette at Luna's Cafe!

Quick question...  What kind of shoe repair store (not a little kiosk, mind you, but a full-on shoe repair store) doesn't have a tool for crimping a dislodged grommet back onto your shoe?

Well, I'll tell you.  AEF Shoe Shop on 12th Street.  "No, I don't have that kind of thing." 

WTF???  Are you kidding me?  What do you do with a shoe with a missing grommet?  Friggin' bozo.

Where are those shoe-making elves when you need 'em?

I had a pretty good weekend, all things considered.

The Roberta Chevrette show was, of course, very enjoyable. Her two opening acts were quite good, too. After the show, I chatted with her first opener, Robyn Harris. Robyn’s from San Jose, but has been living in Philadelphia for a while. So naturally, I had to talk Philly with her. I asked her if she played the Tin Angel there, and she has. She agrees that it’s a great venue. I asked her if she’d caught Grey Eye Glances there, and she had! Way cool.

The second opening act was Justin Farren, and man… he was popular. There were quite possibly as many people who came there to see him as to see Roberta. Many of them left when he finished, too. Mostly women. He was interesting… reminded me a bit of Mark Oliver Everett (“E” from the Eels), honestly, but with a musical style more like Bob Dylan’s.

Roberta played some new songs, which was very cool. And even better (thanks to a request from her mother, which I seconded), she ended the show with “Refrigerator Poetry,” which is probably my favorite of her songs. Thing is… I really prefer her solo shows, where it’s just her and her guitar. At Luna’s, though, she has her mandolin player as well, and honestly, I’m not keen on his playing. They never seem to get the levels right, and the mandolin is too loud. Plus… well, honestly, on one or two songs, I find his playing annoying. This show, she also had an upright bass player, too, and that was fine. Non-intrusive. Not overpowering. But yeah… I’d rather it just be her, solo.

Was very bummed to hear that Don Knotts passed away. What an icon of my childhood this guy was. Oddly, I was never a big watcher of the show he’s most known for. Barney Fife may be his defining role, but it was never that significant to me. But man… he was a classic.

So in the goofy spirit inspired by Mr. Knotts:

You Are a Caramel Crunch Donut

You're a complex creature, and you're guilty of complicating things for fun. You've been known to sit around pondering the meaning of life... Or at times, pondering the meaning of your donut. To frost or not to frost? To fill or not to fill? These are your eternal questions.

On Friday, Boss A called me into her office and said, "I'm worried that maybe I've overloaded you with work."

My reaction? "Ya think?"

I proceeded to put together a spreadsheet showing her my current list of projects.  There were about thirty of them, and only five of them were not for her.

Your Job Dissatisfaction Level is 31%

Your job is not bad, but it's probably not a long term thing. You're just not happy enough to stick around for too long... And there's little that can change how you feel. Start looking around for other options, but only quit for something really good!

Should You Quit Your Job?

 

Okay... I'll hang in for a while longer.

 

 

So Lorelei is back in town.  She and her mom arrived yesterday.  Mom's here to finish up some last stuff regarding Grams's estate, and Lor has some follow-up doctor visits.

 

Things are looking better for her.  She's getting an apartment back in Utah, in the same complex as her eldest niece.  And she's looking for work there, too.

 

She'll be here until Friday morning.

 

You Are A Friendly Ex

You and your ex are just friends - great friends really.  (At least that's what you keep telling yourself!) While civility is a good thing, make sure you're not secretly wanting more...

 

What Type of Ex Are You?

 

Okay, no... I don't want "more" in that regard.  And I honestly don't think she does, either.  She's just having a hard time being single. (And like I'm just peachy with it?)

 

 

You Passed the US Citizenship Test

Congratulations - you got 10 out of 10 correct!

 

Could You Pass the US Citizenship Test?

 

Whew!  I was worried!

 

I have no life.

No, really.  I know a lot of people say this, but I kinda mean it.

Let me tell you what my typical day is like.  I get up and get ready to go to work.  If I have time, I'll grab a bite to eat and check my email before leaving.  I spend my day doing work that is boring and/or irritating, and the only thing that keeps me from going nuts there is emailing with friends and taking breaks with ladyluck.

I come home from work.  I check my email again, typically taking close to an hour to go through it all and reply to those needing a reply.  I make something to eat, then return to the computer to eat it.  I typically play Spider Solitaire and/or Hearts while eating.

After dinner, more often than not, I remain in front of the computer for the majority of the night.  I do nothing productive.  I spend way too much time reading other peoples' blogs... browsing MySpace pages for people I might know... visiting Craigslist and other sites for people I might want to know.  And of course, playing more Spider Solitaire and Hearts.

I do listen to a lot of music, which is good.  I love music.  (Tonight's an Eels night, for example.)  I spend a lot of time recording music for friends.  Also, making playlists in Windows Media Player.  Themed, in many cases.  Like my "Seasons" mix, which features songs that have the words "Season(s)," "Winter," "Spring," "Summer," or "Autumn" in the titles. 

Yeah, I know.  Lame.

See?  No life.

Okay, yeah... I have other activities.  I teach classes.  I serve on the Board of Directors of a local freethought group.  I've been attending the Sac-Poly meetings on the first Wednesday of each month.  Sometimes I go over to the local coffee shop with a book.  And every once in a rare while, I'll go out with a friend for a beer.

Now, I have lots of things I need to be doing.  My taxes, for one.  Preparing my new series of classes.  Working on my next book.  Promoting my current one.  And so on.  But the majority of my time is spent doing absolutely nothing of consequence.  It bugs me.  But I can't seem to break out of it.

I was mentioning this to a friend in email this evening, and he said, "You at least have accomplishments. Perhaps not all of them are what you'd prefer, but there they are. The big picture here, maybe, is that you' ve had an interesting life, often in less-than-pleasant ways, and maybe it's just added up and you just need a major break. A break from the routine, a little vacation to normalcy. Maybe even a break with the past, come to that."

And y'know... I think he's onto something.

I do have accomplishments.  I don't deny that.  I've got two published novels, the more recent of which has received significant critical acclaim (though it's not selling for shit).  I formed and ran a freethought group in one of the most religously conservative states in the country (though it collapsed when I moved to California).  I have a popular series of classes at the Learning Exhange in Sacramento (though attendance has been sucky this year).  I've been married twice, to wonderful women (though neither lasted).  Lots of qualified successes, there.  But still successes.  (Yeah, even the marriages.)  And there are others, too.  But you get the idea.  I haven't had an unproductive life, by any means.

But I'm tired.  I do feel a need for a break, and I think I've been slowly working toward that.  Recently, I've stepped down from the Board of Directors of (and in fact, left entirely) the local publishers association.  I shut down my 10-year old website.  And so on.

Maybe I've been minimizing... trying to achieve some sort of everyday vacation in my life.  Maybe I've been overachieving for long enough.  I need to stop and live a simple life again, rather than filling it with complicated things.  At least for a while.  Sometimes life needs to be a pop song, rather than a symphony.

Where's my guitar?

Walking to work today, I stopped for the light at 13th Street, paying little attention to the police car that was stopped there.  At first, anyway.  Then it occurred to me that it didn't look like Sacramento P.D. vehicles.  So I looked closer.  And I saw it wasn't a city police car.  Nor a state police car.  Nope.  It was a national police car.  In a warped manner of speaking.

That's right.  An honest to gawd Department of Homeland Security vehicle.

Yeah... I feel safer, now.

Last night, several folks from the Sac-Poly group met up at The Blue Cue, to give it a "test run" as a possible new location for our 1st-Wednesday-of-the-month meetings.  It was great fun.  I ended up shooting... I dunno, seven or eight games of pool.  And had a couple drinks.  (No, not seven or eight drinks and a couple games of pool...)

Hard to say just how my game was affected by the alcohol.  I had more than my typical number of crappy shots.  But I also had more than my average number of really awesome shots.  So we'll just call it even.

Afterward, five of us went to INK and just sat around and chatted for a couple hours.  I think we'll all be playing poker sometime, too!

Looks like I'm finally getting a social circle!

So I was telling Boss A about the Blue Cue and the mojito I had (with way too many mint leaves).  She said I have to try a mojito made with pomegranate juice.  And to that end, while out at Costco today, she picked me up a half gallon of the stuff.

Shit, it'll take me like my whole life, probably, to consume half a gallon of pomegranate juice.

ladyluck called me a dork today because I know "pi" to four decimal places.  I wonder what she calls anyone who's memorized it out a lot further than that.  "Geek" would probably be an understatement.

Lucky, dear, yes... I am a dork.  But for many more reasons than knowing a few places of "pi."  (Of course, you knew that.)

So tonight I had a long phone conversation with beccapooka, which I always love.  It's funny... we were talking tonight about (among many other things) how we became friends.  The funny part is neither of us can really remember.  Of course, we both recall how we met.  But neither of us could remember how we went from "just met" to "friends."

I don't think anyone in our lives has really ever understood our friendship.  Maybe even us!  But she's like the kid sister I never had.  Sometimes she's made me want to slap her (no, dear, not lately... you know when), but I can't remember a time when she wasn't amazingly important to me.

And I'd never have it any other way.

So now I'm over at Butch-n-Nellie's.  I was hoping Kelly would be working tonight, but she's not.  Ah, well.  At least they serve good coffee and play good music... and have free wi-fi.

Lucky likes to joke that I apparently have a "thing" for female baristas.  She's taken to referring to them collectively as my "coffee mistresses."  It's a weird thought.  I've heard of a couple girls who apparently have a "thing" for male bartenders.  So I suppose this could be the case.

Of course, she's including Desiree in this list, who works at Fuel.  While she's certainly cute, I think Lucky's exaggerating my friendliness with her.  (Of course, she also points out that I can be incredibly flirty.  I dunno.  Whatever.)  

Still... you'd think I'd have better choices for baristas to have "things" for.  Lisa at 1011 12th Espresso Bar?  Less than half my age.  Desiree at Fuel (if Lucky were right)?  Married.  Kelly at Butch-n-Nellie's?  Lesbian.

Yeah.  I don't set my sights on easy targets, do I? 

(Seriously... that's a joke.  I'm not quite that disturbed.  Close, maybe, but not quite.)

Okay, so evidently the deal with this "tagged" thing is that I have to write six relatively obscure things about myself, then "tag" six other folks to do the same.  Okay.  Cardigan can play that game.

1. I am the originator of the Rainbow Brite Webring (though I no longer maintain it).
2. I had over 50 letters to the editor published in the Ogden Standard-Examiner over a period of two years.  (Quite a feat, since they limited it to one letter per person per month!)
3. The "head" and "heart" lines on my right hand connect to form one unbroken, straight line across my palm.
4. My mother is my sister.
5. My latest novel placed as a finalist in a national competition, losing out to Amy Tan's new book.
6. I have never used any illicit substances.  Ever.  Honest.

Since most of my friends know these things already, I'm gonna "tag" people from the six most recent visitors to my profile who are not in my friends list!  The "tagged" are alabasterfae, stormychika, 1of6, revfluffy, ScarletSapphire, and afterhours.      

This was a very, very good weekend.  (And when's the last time you heard me say that?)

Friday, I was just in a really good mood, all day.  Yes, even at the orifice.  I plowed through a good bit of work, listened to a bunch of music...  I was just "up" all day.

Friday evening, Joe came over and we had a couple beers at Streets of London.  When it got overly crowded, we went back to my place and chatted for a while.

Saturday, D&D.  For seven and a half hours.  Now, such marathon sessions were great when I was 18.  But now? 

Still great!

Before gaming, I phoned my sister at about 2:00, her time.  And woke her up.

She'd been out of town on business for several days and had gotten home only that morning, so she was dead on her feet.  We talked for about ten minutes.  The whole time, she sounded drugged.  Like she'd had dental work done and the novocaine hadn't worn off, yet.  Other than that, it was a normal conversation, mostly.  But here's how it ended:

Sis:  "Yeah, that's how it is for me, too.  And, um..."

 

Silence.

 

Me:  "You there?"

 

Sis:  Breathing.

 

Me:  "Helloooo?"

 

Sis:  Breathing.  A slight snort, followed by soft snoring. 

After I hung up, I wondered if she'd wake up later, see that the phone was off the hook, and wonder why.  So I called her back on Sunday.  And of course, that's exactly what happened.  She did, however, remember that I'd called, at least.

Sunday was also my kid brother's birthday.  I called him, too.  He didn't fall asleep.  But he's 26!  When did that happen???

I'd planned to do a lot of work around the apartment over the weekend, but the only stuff I got done was laundry.  Nor did I work on my taxes or on my upcoming classes.  And y'know what?  I don't care.

I did, however, do some brainstorming on authorial matters.  And I've come to a tentative conclusion (if that's not an oxymoron... and even if it is) about my next book.  It's going to disappoint some people and please more.  So last night, I sat over at Butch-n-Nellie's and brainstormed some ideas for the sequel to my fantasy novel.  (Maybe now I'll stop being pestered about it.  Or maybe it'll increase.)  My other project... well, I'm just not sure I'm ready for it, yet.

This will prove to be a busy week at work.  Next Monday and Tuesday I'll be attending a Symposium down in Riverside.  And there's a lot of work left to be done in preparation for it.

I'm still hoping to connect with my cousin Jim while I'm down there.  It'll be nice to meet him in person.  Some years ago, a distant relative on my father's mother's side made a big geneaology binder for her family.  One section of it contains our little branch of the family tree.  It's about a decade obsolete at this point, but I made a copy of it for Jim.  It contains information I'm sure he'd love to see.

So there's a new show coming to HBO (don't ask how a guy with no TV keeps up with this stuff) called "Big Love."  It's about a "lapsed Mormon" who has three wives.  As a polyamory activist, I'm really of two minds about this.

On the one hand, we poly folks generally don't like comparisons to the old Mormon polygamy thing.  It is, after all, utterly sexist.  Men could have mutliple wives, but women had no option for multiple husbands.  Modern polyamory is about equality, so this sexist crap is something we try to keep at arm's length, at best. 

On the other hand, the show will likely show this form of multiple marriage as something other than socially reprehensible.  And I foresee an eventual plot complication of at least one of the wives demanding "equal time."  So it could prove to be a good thing, ultimately.

But anyone who calls me a polygamist will be getting a lecture.

My friend Cris and I worked together back in the Philly area, more years ago than I care to admit.  We really didn't know each other all that well, I suppose.  But we got on real well, had similar senses of humor.  I thought she was awesome, actually.  Not long after we both quit working at that company, she sort of vanished.  And not long after that, I moved across the country.

A couple years ago, I got an email from her out of the blue.  We reconnected.  Had a couple phone calls and email exchanges.  I told her I'd mail her a real, hand-written letter.  And I did.

It came back as "moved, left no forwarding address."  Her email address also stopped functioning.  "User not known."  Phone calls were fruitless.

In the ensuing years, I've thought of her now and again, and quite a lot, lately.  So yesterday, I decided just for the hell of it to post an ad on Craigslist looking for her.  I returned home from work to find an email from someone going by the name "CJay" who said, "I thought you'd heard.  Cristin died of an overdose."

That's it.  No further information.  I naturally wrote back asking for details, hoping we were talking about two different people.  But it put a fear in me.  I went online and started looking for her any way I could.  I searched obituaries.  Nothing.  I looked up her name in the directories.  I did find one that had a different address than I had for her.  Still in Brooklyn, though.

Anyway...  Cris and I chatted this morning before she went off to teach her yoga class.  She's calling me back tonight.  She laughed when I told her about the overdose comment.  She doesn't smoke, drink, or do drugs anymore at all.  She did ask if I nearly had a heart attack when I got the email.  Mm hm.  You could say that.

I emailed "CJay" again, who admitted he gets his kicks out of sending emails like that.  I called him a twisted fuck and told him to seek therapy.

Asshole.

Speaking of reconnecting...

When I was a teen, I was really good friends with this couple from my church.  They were probably in their late 30s at the time.  Not exactly what I considered old enough to be my parents, but they sort of treated me like one of their kids.  (Oh, they didn't have any, but I wasn't the only teen from church they "adopted" that way.)

Anyway, years later, they adopted a baby.  When Hope was nine, I met her for the first time since she was a baby.  This was the last time I actually saw her parents; it was on one of my rare trips home.

After moving to California, I discovered her on one of the instant message programs I used to use, and we chatted once or twice.  Hope is 18 now, and a college freshman.  She has a MySpace page... and she's pretty wild (like many teens from our home town).  She's also apparently not into guys these days.

We've reconnected, too.  I was totally unsurprised that she's not "out" to her folks.  Can't imagine that would go over too well with them.  But it's great... given my history with her parents, I sort of regard Hope as a kid sister that I'm only starting to get to know.

I finally got my taxes done.  Sucks.  Between state and federal, Lorelei and I owe about $1600.  Bleh.  Good thing I have three paydays this month.

So yesterday was St. Patrick's Day.  I'd initially planned to hit one of the local pubs to "celebrate," even though I generally don't like this "holiday."  But I spent my time trying (successfully, thankfully) to track down Cris, instead.

Why don't I like this holiday?  I am, after all, Irish, to a great extent.  (Sage O'Cardigan, that's me.)  Well, I don't like it because it's a joke of a holiday, for one.  It's an American holiday that isn't given much of a thought in Ireland.  The whole mythos of St. Patrick... the snakes were figurative, y'know.  It was about converting pagans to Christianity.  And that's not something I actually look upon with much favor.  Wonder how Patrick would feel if he could see how the Catholics and Protestants have been killing each other over the centuries.

I really wanted some colcannon last night, too...

Cris and I spent something like four hours on the phone yesterday.  It was wild.  You could definitely say we've caught up! 

Talk about weird shit happening in threes, though...  The same day I left the message on her answering machine, two other people did the same thing... and she hadn't heard from either of them in years, either. 

She's certainly not the same person I worked with all those years ago, but then, neither am I.  One thing I thought was new about her, but turns out to be just something I didn't know about her back then, is that she's really into shoes.  She says she's practically Carrie Bradshaw.  (That's a Sex and the City reference, for those of you with perplexed looks on your faces.)  She recently did a "purge" and donated some of her shoes to Goodwill or something.  How many?  About 100 pairs.  How many does she have left after this?  Over 300 pairs.

Yeah, that's not a typo.  There are no extra zeroes in those sentences.

And lest you think she shops at Payless... no.  While she does have many pairs of what she calls "mid-range" shoes, she also has "couture" shoes.  Her latest pair (at least, as of yesterday) was Gucci.  The pair before that (which was within the last week) was a company I can't recall the name of... something Italian... that listed for $750.  She got them at the bargain price of "only" $300.

One again... no extra zeroes there.

Does this freak me out?  Yes.  I feel guilty whenever I blow forty bucks on CDs, and that's not even a monthly occurrence.  Cris buys a new pair of shoes every time she gets paid. 

Cris lives in Brooklyn Heights and absolutely loves it.  She's trying to convince me to hop a train to the city after my gig in D.C. in early May.  Damn, it's tempting.  But I just don't think it's in the budget.  Then again, who knows?  A train ticket would be over $100 probably, but less than $150.  That's not terrible.  I could visit with her for a couple days, then fly back to Sacramento on Sunday.  Might be nice.  And I could have real pizza!  She lives about a 15 minute walk from Garibaldi's Pizzeria! 

We'll see.  Of course, this might piss off some of the Pennsylvania contingent, who've been clamoring to see me.  (Yeah, that means you, beccapooka.)

So I'm typing this entry in my room at The Mission Inn.  I got here around 4:00 this afternoon.

It was an okay flight, except for some nasty bumpiness when we were flying through the clouds, descending into Ontario.  I tell you what, though... it's one of the coolest things in the world to see the clouds like that from an airplane.  These today were huge, billowy, pure white clouds.  At times, it seemed like we were zooming through canyons made of white cotton candy.  Just stunning.  I sat there with this big ol' smile spreading across my face.  I just wish it were possible to experience such a thing outside the confines of a pressurized metal tube flying at hundreds of miles per hour.  Oh, to be Superman...

Anyway, the section of Riverside surrounding The Mission Inn reminds me a lot of Pasadena.  It has a quaint, almost small-town feel to it.  Very cool.

After checking in, I called my cousin Jim to let him know I was here.  And he drove in from Irvine to have dinner with me.  We had a great time, talking about relatives.  It's interesting, because he and I both come from the same branch of the family tree, so to speak, but we keep up on totally different family members.  He's in touch with our cousins Jackie and Darby, who live in Florida... whereas I haven't seen either of them since I was about ten years old or so. 

I'd really love to see them.  Jackie was closer to my age, but I have one memory of Darby that really sticks out.  She was in a band when she was in high school.  I only know this, because one time when we were visiting there, the band was rehearsing in their basement.  Darby was the singer.  The band's name was "Streamline."  (I think they actually played for a dance at my high school, years later.)  Anyway, I remember hearing them rehearse their eponymous song... and I can still hear Darby's voice wailing, "Streeeeeeeammmliiiiiiiiine!" in my head.  She immediately became the coolest person I knew, right then and there.  I never told her that, though.  She was something like seven or eight years older than I was, I think.  I was just a nuisance kid to her, I imagine.

It would be fun, though, to tell her today that she was one of my childhood heroes.

Anyway...  it was great to finally meet Jim.  I made him promise to bring his family up to Sacramento sometime. 

Well, the next two days will be very busy.  Tomorrow we've got a board meeting from ten until three, then a reception tomorrow evening.  Tuesday, it's the symposium all day, then a 7:00 flight home.  But the last thing I want to do tonight is sit here at the computer until it's bedtime.  It's only 9:30 right now.  Still time for a beer or two down in the lounge...

Today was mostly smooth.  We had a lot more people arrive for the board meeting than actually RSVP'd for it.  This was good on one hand, but sucky on another.  We had to get two additional tables, a bunch more chairs, and kick up our lunch count by more than a dozen.  Still, it all worked out.

The reception in the evening went quite nicely.  I was my normal charming self.  I think Boss A needs to stop talking me up so much, though.  At the reception, one of the attendees was asking my opinion on something I was not even remotely qualified to talk about.  (In case you're curious, it had to do with police and 5150s being taken to non-LPS-designated facilities.)  I gave her my thoughts, of course, but also provided the caveat, "But then, I'm just a glorified secretary."  This didn't seem to faze her a bit, and she seemed to truly think I had some reason to be insightful about it.

I wasn't sure whether to feel flattered, or just assume she'd had too much wine.

After the reception, I really didn't know what to do with myself.  I was hungry (not having partaken of the hors d'oeuvres there), but didn't want to go by myself to the restaurant.  So I went out, having spied a pizza joint nearby while out walking yesterday.

Yeah, their pizza looked shitty.  So I went back to the hotel.

I sat in the lobby, in front of the fireplace, for about half an hour.  Just letting my mind wander.  It wasn't much fun.  I'm not going to say I got depressed, because that's not really accurate.  My spirits were low (not to mention my blood sugar), but not terribly so.

I found myself wondering just what I was doing with my life.  Sometimes I feel like I've become just another cog in the machine, and that's not something I'd ever imagined I'd become.  For all my iconoclastic nature, I'm kind of a corporate schlub.  And I don't like it.

And yet, it's so tempting in this world to just give in, to take the easy way out, to go with the flow... use whatever expression you like.  And so help me, sometimes I feel like it would just behoove me to go back to the mostly comfortable (due to its familiarity) relationship with Lorelei.  Even though I wasn't truly happy.  Even though I was compromising myself.  Despite all that, it was easier than my current life.

I guess it's just that sometimes I forget that the easy ways are rarely the best ways. 

So while that realization makes me feel better about my separation from Lor, it also makes me uneasy about what I'm doing with the rest of my life. 

But half an hour of this was enough.  Then I went upstairs and ordered room service.

Yesterday, the day of the actual Symposium, was really busy, on the go all day.  But it all went smoothly, and the guests seemed to really enjoy it. 

Between two of the afternoon sessions, I got to talking with one of the attendees.  Very cute.  No ring on the finger.  Pity she lives over 400 miles away.  (Then again, would it even matter?)

I forgot to pack my belt when I went down to Riverside.  A year ago, this wouldn't have been a big deal.  But my slacks were decidedly loose without it, and I had to hike them up far too often.  Fortunately, much of my time there was spent in a seated position.

I got home around nine o'clock last night.  The flight was fine, but man... we hit hard when we landed.  Definitely one of the roughest landings I've had.

And now I'm back in the orifice.  I had an 8:30 conference call this morning, too, so it's not like I could even have come in late if I'd been so inclined.  Both bosses are out of the office, today, which is good.  Allows me time to play catch-up on what I'd missed earlier in the week.

My kid brother called me during lunch today to ask me what our grandmother died from.  Now, I'm not sure what it says on her death certificate.  I'm not sure they even know.  But from discussions with my older siblings, and with my late mother, it kinda sounded like a brain tumor.  "Why do you ask?" I wanted to know.

He told me he just wanted some medical history... and that he's had some odd, long-lasting headaches lately, mixed with dizziness and nausea.

I told him to talk to his doctor about migraines before worrying about brain tumors.

Speaking of nausea, ladyluck and I ate at La Bou for lunch today.  I had the butternut squash soup.  I offered her a taste, as she's never had it.  She declined.  "It looks like what I puke up after a night of drinking."

Um.  Okay.

I wanna know what the hell she drinks.

And regarding today's subject line...  I forgot my damn wristwatch today. 

Back in the days when Sage's Scribbles was in its first incarnation, it was a daily blog.  I made sure of that.  Even if it meant jumping out of bed after realizing I hadn't posted anything that day.

I'm happy to say I'm less OCD about it, these days, but I do wish I sometimes remembered to post things when they happen, rather than days later.  Not because they're important, but because my memory sucks.  Age-related?  I hope not.  I'm not that old.  Still... maybe I should pick up some gingko biloba next time I'm at the store.

Hope I can remember.

Wednesday night, while at the grocery store, my neighbor Tiffany calls me on my cell phone.  She, too, is grocery shopping, but doesn't feel like cooking when she gets home.  So we ended up going out for sushi.

Of course, her idea of sushi is one lacking in seafood.  She had two rolls, one vegetable one and one made with teriyaki chicken.  And while both of them, I'm sure, were yummy... they weren't something I'd ever think to order at a sushi restaurant.

Me?  I had one with deep fried shrimp, avocado, eel, and flying fish roe.  Yummers!

Anyway, we had a nice talk.  Much of it revolved around an interview process she's going through for a new job.  She really hates her current job.  And I can understand why.  She's got a Master's degree and isn't doing anything that utilizes it.  She works in a bank.  I think she makes less than I do, and that's just pitiful.

She was also having internet connectivity issues.  She has cable, as do I, but my connection was okay.  I examined her setup, but couldn't figure out the problem.  Then I noticed that her desktop had an icon for wireless access.  So I unplugged her cable, had her put her wireless card in the computer, and she connected... using my wireless router next-door.  So I think I'll save her forty bucks a month.  Maybe I'm not a good capitalist, but I honestly don't care if she "steals" from the cable company this way.

Last weekend, before heading down to Riverside, I went over to The Beat, which is just a couple blocks from where I live.  (For you non-Sacramentans, The Beat is a music store with an incredible selection... new, used, CD, vinyl...)  I picked up a couple used CDs.  One of them, I didn't have time to listen to before my trip, so I played it after my return.  Then, when putting the CD back into the case, I noticed that the back insert was missing.

Now, this isn't a tragedy, but hell, I like to have such things.  Without it, there's no name on the spine of the case.  Sure, I could've made one on the computer and stuck it in, but I remembered that the store had two copies of this in stock, so surely I could do a simple swap.

So I went back over.  Yes, it was still there.  Sure, I could exchange one for the other.  I give the guy my copy, plus the receipt.

Now, in any normal store, this would have been a simple exchange.  But not at The Beat.  What they did was buy back my copy and sell me the other one.  (Remember, these are both used CDs to begin with.)  So I ended up, like a moron, taking a couple dollar loss on the transaction... which means I probably paid the same for this one used CD as I'd have paid for it new on Amazon.  Or close to it, anyway.  Minus shipping.

The clerk jokingly said they were heartless bastards.  I didn't laugh.  They are.  When I first moved to the area, and was really hard-up for cash, I ended up selling a bunch of my vinyl to them.  Now, these were all albums that were either not yet available on CD or were collector's items in some way... colored vinyl, picture discs, etc.  I had about 50 of them.  And I got less than $100 for them.

Of course, you can find stuff there that no other store in Sacramento has.  They know that.  So they can afford to be bastards, I guess.

Yesterday was my friend Mike's birthday.  He and I have known each other since we were four years old.  We grew up on the same street and were best friends as kids.  These days, the only time we talk seems to be when I call him on his birthday.

We talked for over an hour and a half yesterday.  I'm the only person (according to his wife) he'll tolerate talking to for that long.  Mike hates the phone.

I was glad to hear that everyone in the family was doing well, including his parents.  These folks were practically parents to me (and given my unusual childhood, it's not hard to see why).  When last I spoke to them, I learned his mom wasn't in the best of health.  And though she's doing better now, I had to get morbid for a minute.  I made Mike promise me that, when that dreaded day finally comes, that he'll make sure I know right away.  I want to be back home for Mike and his siblings.  I don't want to find out that my "other" parents have passed away weeks after the fact.

Somehow, we got on the subject of talking about houses and mortgages.  Not his, but his parents' house, that he grew up in.  It's a decent sized place.  Four bedrooms, two floors.  Downstairs has a living room and a family room.  Sits on - and I'm guesstimating, here - maybe a third of an acre.  His folks bought the place in '67.  For (you're gonna shit when you read this) eight thousand dollars.  I'm not kidding.  Their monthly mortgage payment?  $57.  Can you believe it?  Makes me just cry.  I pay $57 a month just for the utilities on my one-bedroom apartment.

Mike is my age (less two months and four days... a fact I always reminded him of, growing up).  But he was one of the first of my friends to become a father.  His eldest is in his second year of higher education, which of course, makes me feel positively ancient.  His younger boy is about to graduate high school this year.  He also has two adopted daughters, both from India, who are now nine and thirteen.

It's so alien to me... I mean, Mike is in that phase of fatherhood where he's handing over the car keys to the boys in the evening.  Wasn't it just yesterday that he and I were those boys?

Guess not, huh?

And speaking of birthdays, today is beccapooka's. So I just called and talked to her for an hour.  (I do so love having unlimited calling for no extra charge.)

It's funny, sometimes, listening to her talk.  She's so much like me in her attitudes about society.  Very idealistic.  Like most idealists, she's got a lot of anger.  Mostly, it's at human vanity and stupidity.  I can relate, of course.  Few things are as irritating as human stupidity.

Well... maybe greedy-assed music stores.

So last night, I really planned to go out.  I haven't seen Deb in quite a while, so I thought I'd go up to the Corner Pocket.  But I didn't really feel like driving in the rain, especially if I was planning to have a few drinks.

So then later I thought maybe to go over to Streets of London.  But for some reason, I didn't do that, either.

Instead, I ended up being in bed by midnight.

And there's the answer to today's header question.

Still don't know if we're playing D&D today.  I'm guessing not, but you never know.  I should really spend time working on the class I have to teach on the 12th.  I'm nowhere near ready for it.  Today might be a good day to get away from the computer and just head to Butch-n-Nellie's with my materials for some unplugged time.

Oh, speaking of that place... ladyluck finally checked out Kelly's MySpace page and actually agreed with me (for once)...  Kelly's gorgeous.  Lucky never believed me, because we have quite different tastes when it comes to what we find cute.  The guys she thinks are cute are guys who look uniformly dull to me.  The girls I think are cute, she often finds "weird" looking.

But hey, it's like siannon says: "That's why they make chocolate and vanilla."  My college roommate Brian had his own way of expressing this concept:  "Everyone has different tastes... and everyone tastes different."

Normally, I woud not be awake and online after one o'clock in the morning on a weeknight.  But this apparently isn't a normal night.

This evening, I was over at Butch-n-Nellie's, working on my upcoming class.  I had a mocha.  And I forgot to ask for decaf.  Upon returning home, I read for about an hour, then went to bed, where I read for another half hour or so, until I started nodding off.  So I put the book away and shut off the light, and was soon asleep.

However, it didn't last long.  I woke not long thereafter, then tossed and turned for far too long.  I started to contemplate getting up, just because lying there not sleeping was driving me nuts.

It was around then that I heard an all-too-familiar sound in my neighborhood:  squealing tires and a revving engine.  Fuckin' tweeners around here are such assholes.  It's not uncommon for them to burn rubber down the empty streets in the post-midnight hours.

This time, however, the drag racing sounded different.  The squealing tires sounded more like a car swerving.  That doesn't sound good, I thought to myself, just before another sound filled the air: a nasty, unmistakable crunching of metal.  Followed immediately by a car alarm erupting.

The fucker had hit a parked car. 

Then, more squealing tires as the son of a bitch took off.

Naturally, I got up.  Through my dining room window, I could see the flashing lights of the car with the alarm still sounding.  It was a solid hit, too, not a sideswipe... directly over the front driver's side corner of the car.  In short order, there were close to a dozen people gathered out there, flashlights out and cell phones open.

Tough break... hit and run.  The owner of this sleek red car was probably screwed.

Ah, but maybe not.  "Whoa!" I heard one of the guys below yell.  "The guy's license plate fell off!"  I chuckled as I saw him pick up the plate from the ground.  Very cool.  I doubt very much that anything would've come of this, otherwise.  But now...  busted by karma.

As I may have whined about before, one of the things I miss the most about not living back in the Philly area is that I went to quite a few concerts there.  Okay, so I only really saw a couple of my favorite artists over and over, but still... that's where they played!  And I loved it.

I look at the tour dates of my favorite artists, and they're always playing Philadelphia!  But they don't come to Sacramento.  No.  That would be too convenient.

When Lor and I were living with Grams, it just wasn't feasible to do a San Francisco concert.  We'd have to inconvenience someone else to come over and stay late into the night.  So we just didn't.  Ditto for concerts up at Konocti, where I could've seen Alice Cooper, dammit.

Anyway, that's all changed, now, obviously.  Of course, so has my discretionary budget.  Seeing Roberta Chevrette perform is very affordable.  Not many folks know about her, yet.  So I can afford that.

Y'know what else I can afford?  FREE!  That's definitely in my budget.  And as it happens, one of my favorite artists is doing a free concert in San Francisco this summer.  None other than Aimee Mann will be appearing at the Stern Grove Festival on June 18!  Woo hoo! 

And much to my delight, The Eels are coming to Sacramento!  They'll be playing at Harlow's on June 1.  As luck would have it, I may not be in town on June 1.  However, they're also playing The Fillmore the night before.  So guess what?  I went and bought two tickets to the show.  Yep.  Not free.  But not crazy expensive, either.  So I'll get to see a show at an historic venue, and see one of my two favorite groups still making music.  (And Grey Eye Glances probably won't be California-way anytime soon.)  And if I am in town on June 1?  Yes, I'll go see them again.  Why the hell not?

So.  Now I just need a date for the Fillmore show...  And maybe the Harlow's show...  And the Stern Grove Festival...

On Friday, I returned home to find a FedEx sticker on my door.  No indication of who sent me the package, though, and I haven't ordered anything lately with FedEx delivery.  Now, FedEx finishes my neighborhood around 2:00 p.m., so I know I'm never gonna be home when they try again.  So I call 'em up and ask them (as I've done with UPS on occasion) to instead deliver it to the orifice. 

"No can do," they tell me.  "This package was sent with our ultra-super-duper-top-secret-hold-the-mayo Primo Priority!"

"Meaning?" I ask, my irritation growing.

"Meaning someone over the age of 18 has to sign for it in person."

"Everyone at my office is over 18."

"Sorry.  Only the sender can request the address change."  He obligingly informs me that the sender is none other than the credit union through which I've refinanced my car.

This is very strange.  They didn't tell me they were sending me anything.  (If they had thought to do so, I'd have stopped them from sending it by FedEx.)  So I drive out to the FedEx facility, pick up the damn thing, only to find it's just one more document requiring my signature. 

Here's the fun part.  The letter, on my credit union's letterhead, gave an email address of a different company, one that handles their auto stuff.  The letter claimed a return envelope was provided.  One wasn't, of course.  So I emailed, asking where I should send it back: the credit union, or this other company.

And then I chewed them out for sending it by FedEx, paying twenty bucks or whatever for overnight service, instead of putting a 39-cent stamp on an envelope.  It still would've gotten to me the very next day!  It's not like I refinanced my car through some company in Connecticut or something.  They're in the same damn town! 

Fucktards.

Speaking of fucktards, I'm still waiting to receive the corrected tax forms for Lorelei.  The ones that actually have her correct SSN on them.  This guy's a real winner.  Previously, he'd seen that federal taxes were taken out of her pay, but never actually got around to sending the money to the IRS.

Allegedly, they'll be ready for pick up tomorrow.

And yet more fucktards...  Napster.

Yes, I got into the music download thing some months ago.  Ninety-nine cents per track.  Sure beats shelling out a lot more for a CD you only want a track or three from, right?

Well, the other day, whilst trying to play some of these tracks on my computer, a box opens up and says (strangely) "License Acquisition Project page to upgrade to Premium."  Then it just sits and spins, never connecting anywhere.

Not one of the tracks I've downloaded over the past several months will play (with the exception of the ones I'd downloaded that very day).  So I zap off an email to them.

The next day, I get a reply, with straightforward instructions for how to fix this problem, which they said was some file corruption.  I follow the instructions. 

I reply, explaining that this did not clear up the problem.

Today's response?  "We apologize for the difficulties that you are having with your Napster service.  We feel that this issue would best be remedied by a conversation with a live technician."

Yeah.  I called.  "The estimated time for your call to be handled is greater than thirty minutes."

Fuck that shit.

So I replied and pointed out that a simple Google search reveals that lots of Napster folks are having this same problem, and have been for quite some time.  Therefore, someone must be familiar with it, and a live technician isn't going to solve my problem any faster.

Fucktards.

In case you hadn't noticed, I've decided I really love the word "fucktard." 

So, one of the things I've been toying around with has been the idea of selling my china.  When Cookie and I got married, we registered for two sets of china.  When we split, I kept the finer stuff (since, girly-man that I am, I'd picked the pattern years before I ever even met her), and she got to keep the ugly blue stoneware she'd picked out for everyday use.

Now, I really loved this pattern at one point in my life (Mikasa Opus Black, in case you're interested), but it's really not "me," anymore... sort of like how wearing eye makeup and fuchsia nail polish is not really "me," anymore.  (Note, this comment inserted entirely for the laugh benefit - or perhaps frightening college flashbacks - of masivemaple and siannon.)

I figured I could probably sell the stuff on eBay, buy a replacement set at Target or someplace, and actually turn a profit.  I'd since given up on the idea as being too much effort, but apparently I'd mentioned it to Boss A at one point.  Because on Saturday she calls me up and asks if I'm still interested in selling it.  Turns out a friend she was visiting in Napa has begun to collect the same pattern and I have way more than she does.  So Friday night, she's picking it all up from me. 

It's a weird feeling, honestly.  One more reminder of my first wife being removed from my everyday life.  Not that I need tangible objects to remind me of her.  I still think of her often.  Always have, probably always will.

The person who replied to my email about the FedEx delivery, of course, didn't offer any sort of explanation for their ludicrous practice of sending something across town by overnight courier.  She just gave me the address of where to send it.  Which will be, of course, via USPS for the price of a stamp.

The tax forms still aren't ready, but should be ready "pretty soon."  They'll call me when they're done.

The email reply from Napster again insisted that I talk to a technician on the phone.  So I did.  After only about a five minute wait, tonight.  And he walked me through an exceedingly easy fix that bloody well could've been done via email, despite two different reps saying it couldn't be. 

Fucktards.

And now a follow-up to the non-fucktard item from yesterday.  I did, in fact, get replacement tableware last night.  Big Lots! came through for me, with some really nifty pale green stoneware.  A setting for four people?  Twenty-five bucks.  So I bought two.  They did have another set for only ten dollars for a 4-person setting.  They were white, with a sort of orangey-yellow/gold trim.  Great price... but I would've felt like I was eating at a truckstop every day.  Nothing against truckstops, mind you, but you get the idea.

Of course, when I opened the second box, I found three of the four bowls were broken.  So I had to take it back.  Opening another box there, two of the four bowls were shattered.  And in yet another box, one was broken.  Still, I got my four intact bowls, so I was happy.

I realized today (because I can be slow) that the stuff perfectly matches the tea set that Lorelei and I got, years ago!  And of course, she kept that...

My tweener assclown neighbors had another friggin' party last night.  (Why Thursdays?  Why?)  At half-past midnight, they're out in the front (where the window of my bedroom faces), drunk (of course), and singing!  Loudly, of course.  And badly... though that should go without saying.

I was just on the verge of calling the cops when they went back inside.  I think I'm going to have to talk to the landlord about them, because having the cops come won't mean shit to them.  But the threat of eviction might.

Tonight I'm taking part in... believe it or not... a speed dating event.  No, I really don't know why.  I find the whole enterprise a bit weird.  But I got in for free, so the only unpleasant part should be the drive out to Folsom during the heaviest period of traffic of the week.

I only have the most general ideas of what to expect from this, but I'm trying to maintain a positive attitude toward it.  I've brushed up on the do's and don'ts, per the website.  (Don'ts include things like giving out your full name, or any contact information.)

Naturally, I'll give a full report within the next few days.

Wednesday night was the monthly Sac-Poly social event at the Blue Cue.  As usual, it was much fun.  I again played well.  Not as many brilliant shots as the previous event, but also fewer shitty ones.

Shan brought her camera and took a ton of pics of me.  One of them should certainly work as my new publicity photo.  We'll see, after she sends them to me next week.

And speaking of Sac-Poly, another member of the group, who actually lives in Nevada, is coming to town this weekend (weather permitting) to meet me in person.  We've been emailing for a while, and it's a bit of an unusual situation.  (Unusual situations?  With Cardigan?  Naaaahh...)

We're sort of helping each other out with our dating skills.  We both admittedly suck at it, so we've been giving each other tips on our email communications, etc.  It's been helpful, I think.  So we're taking the next step: meeting in person.  Now, if she were local, this would entail getting together for a regular ol' date, whilst still giving each other feedback, of course.  But because it's a long drive for her, she'll be spending the night.  (I knew that inflatable mattress would come in handy.)

Tomorrow night is Sacramento's "Second Saturday" Art Walk, and I've never done that.  So Cheryl and I will hit some galleries, have dinner, etc.  It may be a weird scenario, but whatever.  We get along fine online, and I see no reason we won't in person, too.

Well, I know you're all just beside yourselves in anticipation of hearing about my weekend.  So here ya go.

First, the Friday night "speed dating" thing.  I admit, I went into that with a good bit of trepidation.  I mean, the concept (to me) is a little odd.  But I went through with it.  And I'm glad I did.  It was actually a good bit of fun!  I got to meet about a dozen women that I never would have, otherwise.  And even though I didn't leave there thinking, "OMG, I really want to date her" for any of them, there were certainly a handful that I wouldn't mind getting to know better.  We'll see if that actually happens.

If nothing else, the evening was good for my self-confidence.  Being in a situation where you're pretty much forced to interact with a bunch of strangers and get to know something about each other in very little time... well, that really helps you get over awkwardness pretty quick.  And honestly, I really did learn something interesting about each and every one of them. 

And yeah...  I'd do it again.

Saturday morning, I found myself back in the office for a few minutes.  Seems Boss A forgot to have me burn a CD for her, and she needed it no later than 7:00 this morning.  Since there was no chance whatsoever of me coming to the office at 6:30 on a Monday morning, I did it Saturday.

It's funny, though.  She said, "Make sure you track your time so you can put it on your timesheet."  Please.  Ten minutes.  Like I'm that petty.  I'll just leave early one day this week.

Cheryl arrived Saturday afternoon.  We had a nice weekend.  Hit the Second Saturday Art Walk during the evening.  That was my first time doing that, and really, we didn't spend a lot of time there.  But it was pretty cool.  I'll definitely have to do that more often.

On Sunday morning, we attended the Sac-Poly coffee social in Davis.  It was a very small group, just six of us.  After coffee, we went over to the house that three of them share.  Very nice digs!  Huge house, great yard.  Elliott is a fellow guitarist, so I checked out his gear.  He let me borrow an effects pedal I don't have.  And they turned me on to a local band, The Kimberly Trip.  Turns out I know the bass player, who's also in Sac-Poly.  Had no idea she was in a band.  And damn, they're good!  Great overall sound, and the singer has an awesome voice.

Cheryl headed back over the mountains not long thereafter.  It was nice to meet her.  (But no...  no chemistry, in case you were wondering.)

So I have to share a story with you.  This comes to me via my buddy Gary in Ohio.  I don't have his email with me right now, so I'm just presenting it as I remember it...

Over the weekend, he had to go pick up some supplies for his latest batch of mead.  The cashier rings him up and says, "Your total is seventeen seventy-six."

"That was a good year," Gary says.

"Um... that was way before you were born.  How would you know?"

After staring at her in shock for a moment, he says, "You know... 1776...  the signing of the Declaration of Independence..."

"Oh, right..." she says.  "Christopher Columbus..."

I forgot to ask Gary if she was a blonde.

Now, I shared this story with the poly folk in Davis.  Their jaws dropped appreciably.  I mean, I don't care how boring you find history to be; there are just some dates that you remember.  1776 is one of them.  And 1492 would be another one, yeah.  But how you could possibly confuse them is beyond me.

The scary thing?  I shared this story with another person last night.  And I could tell by the look in her eye that she didn't know what was significant about 1776, either!  WTF!?  She even admitted to me, after I finished the story, that she had no idea when the Declaration was signed.  Or in what decade WWII took place.  And the only reason she knew when Columbus "sailed the ocean blue" was because of that raunchy rhyme!

Is it any wonder why other countries think we're a bunch of fucking morons?

With apologies to Lynyrd Skynyrd...

It may not be the smell of death, but it sure ain't nice.  I returned from the grocery store yesterday to find that the little mystery basket in the bottom of the dishwasher (WTF is that for, anyway?) had come dislodged from its little home and had fetched up against the heating element.  And of course, melted.

Melted plastic creates a nauseating (and dangerous) odor.  I had to air out the apartment, not to mention wash that batch of dishes again.

Bleagh.

And since I'm entering stuff I forgot to put in my last entry...

Y'know how we idiot consumers fall for buying "specials" we dont' need, or even really want?  Yeah, I did that yesterday.  I needed breakfast cereal and saw that this one brand of granola was on sale.  Two for six bucks.  And they were pretty damn big boxes of granola, so it was a pretty good deal, I guess.  So I bought two boxes.

Thing is, I don't really like granola.  But since it's been years since I've eaten it, I thought I'd try it again, just to see. 

Yeah.  I still don't.

More scariness:  Boss A, who was appalled to hear Gary's story about 1776, admitted to me just now that she didn't know what decade the U.S. was involved in WWII, either.

Good lord.

I just overheard a co-worker talking about one of her daughters preparing to take the SAT.  Every time I hear that, I think of what we called it in high school.  Or, more specifically, the Preliminary Scholastic Aptitude Test/National Merit Scholarship Qualifying Test (PSAT/NMSQT).  Or, as we called it, the "pee-sat nim-squit."

I still find that funny.

I ended up taking a short day of work yesterday.  There were a couple things weighing heavily on my mind, and being in the office wasn't being good for me, or my workload.

One of the things is the class I have to teach tonight.  I wasn't near ready for it.  (And a day later, I'm still not sure I am.)  The other was a conversation I had with Lorelei the night before.

It was a disturbing call on two levels.  For one thing, she's still not doing well, emotionally.  Not much I can do about that.  She needs to just deal with being on her own, just as I had to.  Getting a job will help, I think.

The other thing had to do, once again, with the whole poly thing.  She admitted that she felt "insulted" that I chose a poly lifestyle over my marriage to her.  Well, this is a gross oversimplification of what really happened, and also ignores all the other factors surrounding our separation.  But I also pointed out that she doesn't have room to talk about being "insulted."  Her whole involvement with Sean, up to and including bringing him down to Sacramento from Portland, while her mother was here, and Grams literally weeks away from death...  That was insulting not only to me, but to her whole family.

I also reminded her that she was the one who ticked off a whole laundry list of reasons why we should separate, rather than stay together.  They were all valid points, and clearly, it wasn't the first time they'd crossed her mind.

"I was mad, then," she said.

Well, she didn't seem angry.  And even if she had been, it doesn't take away from the validity of her points.

What it comes down to is that she's trying to hold herself blameless in all this.  And in doing so, she's trying to make me feel guilty.  Well, I'm sorry.  I do have guilt, but not over finally deciding to be true to who I am.  My guilt comes for trying for eight years to be something I'm not.

And ultimately, if she can't understand that, well... that's just how it goes.

Cris and I were talking on the phone today and she mentioned that tomorrow is her sister's birthday.  I said, "Hey, tomorrow's my older brother's birthday, too!"  Made a mental note to call him on my way to work in the morning.  That 3-hour time difference is a bitch, sometimes.

"Wait!" she said.  "Is today really the 12th?"

"Yeah."

"I totally forgot!  Today's Olivia's birthday!"  Olivia...  Olivia...  Who the hell is Olivia?  The name rang a bell, but...  "My kitty!" she obligingly filled in.  "I'll have to get a cake!"

I paused while that sank in.  Clearly, I'd need more coffee to get through this day.  "I see.  And, um...  what kind of cake does your cat like, exactly?"

Well, it turns out that by "cake," she really just meant a can of food with a candle stuck into it.  But still...

Jesus H. Christ on a Popsicle stick, they did it again!

Even after the very pointed email I sent them two weeks ago, informing my credit union to not send me items via FedEx, they went ahead and did it again, anyway!

This time, I called them and had them re-ship it to the orifice.  Shit, it's not even a vital document!  Just a form to have Lorelei's name removed from the title, since she's not on the new loan.  No big deal.

It just irritates me.

Fucktards.

One of the front page stories in today's Sacramento Bee covered the unpleasant prospect of levee breaks in the Sacramento region.  (Dunno how long the link will be active, but here it is.)

Nice little map that went with it, showing how many government agencies will be flooded if we have a levee break a mile south of downtown.  (Virtually all of them, except the lottery offices.)

Interestingly, both my place of business, as well as my apartment, fall into the 3 - 7 feet of flooding range.  Sweet.  Glad I live on the second floor!

Had a nice talk last night with my friend Shannon.  (The local one, not the one back home.)  I'd called her to see if she wanted to go to see The Kimberly Trip at Luna's this Friday, only to find out that she'd sent me an email the other day mentioning the same concert.  I never got that email, though.  She'd attached a bunch of photos she'd take of me at the Sac-Poly pool night a couple weeks ago.  Must've gotten hung up somewhere in limbo.

Last Friday was my last day to cancel going to the Loving More conference in June.  Since I'm decidedly strapped for cash, I called them up Friday after work and told Robyn I wasn't going to be able to make it.  She was bummed, because she was hoping I'd be there to sell copies of my book.  I said I'd hoped to do that, too, but...

"We sell a lot of books at that conference," she says.

"A lot?"

"A lot."

Hm.  Cardigan's calculator tells him that he only needs to sell a couple dozen books to completely cover the cost of the conference.  And of course, the exposure is even more important than the immediate financial return...

"And," she goes on, "I'll toss in bunkhouse lodging at no cost."

Guess where I'll be for four days in June?

The D.C. trip is coming pretty soon.  Apparently, I haven't mentioned it, but after that trip ends, I'm taking the rest of the week off.  I'll see my kid brother (who lives in Baltimore).  I'm going to meet two of my MySpace friends (who live in Fredericksburg, VA).  And then I'm headed up to Brooklyn to visit an old friend.

I can't even begin to convey how excited I am to see Cris again.  It's been so long... almost a decade.  We were co-workers for a time at a job back in the Philly area.  We weren't even, honestly, all that close of friends.  But she was very important to me for a few reasons.

But y'know, I have some trepidation about seeing her again.  Truth is, I had a big crush on her at the time.  And I fear that I've built her up a lot in my memory.  I sometimes wonder if she's really anything like my "memories" of her.  Wouldn't be the first time I've had unrealistic expectations of people.

We'll see.  I'll be in Brooklyn in only 17 days.

And speaking of New York... last night at The Blue Cue, the bartender (who's from Long Island) tipped me off to excellent pizza here in Sactown!  Giovanni's, here I come!  Woo hoo!

Why is it that many, many people (usually drunk people, but not always) seem to feel it's necessary to flip you off when you take their picture?

Seriously.

I even see pictures people have taken of themselves (you know... the ubiquitous camera phone/arm extended shot) with the birds flipped.  (Seeing one today was what prompted this entry, in fact.)

I have a class reunion coming up this July, and it got me to thinking of pictures I've taken at previous reunions... middle fingers extended in many of them.

What. The. Fuck.

I swear I don't understand what can be so ... I dunno ...  amusing, perhaps? ... about doing this.  I've never in my life thought it would be funny or cool or whatever to give the ol' manual "fuck you" when having my picture taken.

Please.  Someone enlighten me.

What the fuck is wrong with kids these days?  If you've been paying attention to the news, you'll have heard that in the past week alone, kids have been arrested in four towns for planning to do nasty things.  Here's the rundown:

Riverton, Kansas - five boys planned a shooting spree at their high school on the anniversary of the Columbine High School massacre.

Pearl, Mississippi - two kids were charged with threatening classmates on Xanga.com, and warning students not to go to school on May 1.

Puyallup, Washington - a boy allegedly plotted to shoot people at his high school.

North Pole, Alaska - Six youths were arrested, and are possibly facing charges of first-degree conspiracy to commit murder.

I repeat:  What the fuck?

What's with the anger, these days?  What's with the rage?  The kid in Washington even said to a friend that he wanted to "go out in a blaze of hatred and fury."  Fury!?  C'mon.  Grow the fuck up.  And this kid even had a homemade bomb at his place.  Clearly, he wasn't just playing around.  (Authorities found weapons and ammunition in at least three of those four suspects' homes.)

All this is deeply troubling to me.  Why are kids these days apparently so prone to thinking this way?  Is it the violent video games or TV shows?  Is it drugs? 

Can't be a lack of religion... America as a whole has never been more overtly religious than in recent years.  (Though I concede that America's religous "morality" today is shallow, if not utterly hollow.  Especially by those who proclaim it the loudest.)  Is it that we instill in kids more value in the life of a fetus than that of a living human being?

Is it, maybe, the sorry excuse for parenting so common in our country?  Is it that the television has been the default babysitter for the past two decades or more?  Yeah, I think these have a lot to do with it.

But then, I was a latch-key kid, and didn't really communicate a lot with my dad at that age (and it was just the two of us in the house).  I was picked on in school, too, though I don't know that I'd go so far as to say I was "bullied."  And though I may have occasionally fantasized about knocking out a few teeth of the worst of the assholes (just to give them a taste of their own medicine), not once did I ever feel like killing any of them, let alone going on a fucking shooting spree in my school!

What's with kids these days?  More like, what's with society these days?

Okay, not totally packed, and not totally ready to go, but damn close.  The "Super Shuttle" will be picking me up tomorrow "morning" around 3:45 or so.  I think I'll just go home tonight, take a nap, get up around 8:00 and just stay up until I'm on the plane.  Or rather, the second plane... I've got to switch in Phoenix.

I still haven't heard back from my kid brother in Baltimore to see if he can hang out with me on Wednesday.  I'll have to bug him again tonight.

Didn't mention it before, but next Wednesday night through Friday morning, I'll be visiting some of my MySpace friends who live about an hour outside of D.C.  Confirmed things with them yesterday, so that should be fun, too.  Or, as one of them put it, it's "going to rock so hardcore!"  Hope she's right!

Speaking of my earlier entry, I'd mentioned the tip on real NY pizza here in Sactown.  Giovanni's.  So... my picky review:  Giovanni's pizza is certainly a humongous step up from the lame offerings of the chains out here in the west, such as Round Table or Mountain Mike's... but it didn't impress me enough to get excited about it.  The sauce was a bit on the sweet side, for one thing.  In and of itself, that's not a huge deal.  As anyone who knows me will attest, my "thing" about pizza is the crust.  Now, Giovanni's crust looks great. And the bottom crust is just fine.  It's the crust around the edge that isn't.  Mine was hard.  Not hard as in crunchy, but hard as in maybe not enough water in the dough.  Very dense and too "toothy."  Could this have been a matter of over-cooking the pie?  Maybe.  I'm certainly not opposed to giving them another try.  But I'm not dying to do so.

Two other recommendations have come my way.  Roma's and Piece's.  The latter is a pleasant walk from my apartment, so I'm guessing they'll be first.  Hell, it might be tonight, since I'm sure not gonna want to cook.

One thing that'll be difficult this coming week: being away from my computer.  Yes, I'll have the laptop, so I'll be able to check email and update here.  But...

Okay.  I'm addicted.

A couple weeks ago, I purchased one of those online role playing games, one that's been out two years (as of today, in fact), and has intrigued me since I first heard of it:  City of Heroes.  It's a superhero RPG.  Yes, I'm a geek.  Yes, I love comic books.  (Or did, back when I collected them.)  And I've been playing like a fiend this past week.

No, I'm not going to load it onto the laptop.  I just... well, I'm not going to have that kind of free time, honestly.  Well... except for tomorrow night.  I'll have plenty of time then.

Hmm...

I've been talking to Lorelei regularly.  Pretty much daily, in fact.  For the most part, she's doing better.  I think she's entered the stage where I was back in January, which is that there are about equal parts good days and not-so-good days, with a few lousy days tossed in here and there.  It's encouraging, because if she follows the same pattern I did, she'll be mostly fine in a couple more months.

Of course, this Sunday is our anniversary.  I hope that day isn't too bad for her.

...does my ass hurt!

Seriously, I hate air travel, because you can't just pull off and get out to stretch your legs and massage your buttocks whenever you want to.

So my shuttle service picked me up at 3:45 this morning.  What an awful sentence that is to write.  If I'm gonna be picked up at 3:45 in the morning, it should be off the floor, if you know what I mean.

Once to the airport, the driver proceeds to drop me off at the wrong airline.  I was flying USAir, and they don't have their own terminal at Sacramento.  The driver told me they fly out of United.  So I go up to the skycap, he looks at my printout from my online ticket sale, and says, "Oh... you're going to D.C., through Phoenix.  You're not flying out of United, you're flying out of America West."

America West, of course, is in Terminal A, while United is in Terminal B.  So not only was I at the wrong airline, I was at the wrong damn terminal.

Now, it's not like it's a terribly long walk.  But at four-fifteen in the morning, with some pretty heavy suitcases... not my idea of a pleasant stroll.

The flights themselves were uneventful.  I napped a bit.  But aside from a couple little spice cookies, I haven't had anything to eat today.  I was "saving myself" to go out and gorge on good pizza at Bertucci's.  But now that I'm here and all settled in, I'm honestly not even up for going out for pizza.  So tonight it's room service.  Tomorrow night, Bertucci's...definitely.

And probably again on Wednesday.  :)

I really did mean to update yesterday, but obviously, didn't quite get around to it.

It was a fairly busy day, once it got underway.  Got the "command center" set up at the Hilton, came back here to the Hay-Adams and talked with hotel folks, then prepared for our evening reception.  After the reception, of course, I was planning a trip to Bertucci's.  But then I was invited to join a slew of other folks for dinner over at Equinox.  And who am I to turn down a fancy meal?

And it most certainly was fancy.  It was a prix fixe menu, served in courses.  Three courses, which is what our table chose to go with, was $55 per person.  I was going to list everything I had, but why cause you to drool on and short out your keyboards?

After we'd finished, but before I left, Lorelei called.  And it wasn't a good conversation.  It lasted over an hour, and the gist of it is that her depression is overtaking her.  She's not doing well at all, and in fact, has just been getting worse and worse over the past month. 

She admits now what I believed all along, that going to Montana with her brother was a bad idea.  She should've stayed in California and gotten the help she needed.  And it may come to that again.

I could go on... but I won't.

Because dinner went so long last night (we were at the restaurant for at least two and a half hours, until past ten o'clock), I couldn't go to bed at a decent hour.  I knew I'd just be waking myself up with reflux if I did.

So I stayed up way too late playing City of Heroes.

This morning, I needed to be at the Hilton by 7:45.  But like a doof, I accidentally set my alarm clock for PM instead of AM.  As it happens, I woke at exactly 7:45.  Yet somehow, I was still at the Hilton by 8:10.

Odd side note.  This afternoon, I was sitting at the Hilton looking over some paperwork, and I noticed a dark smudge on the inside of my right forearm.  Looking at it more closely, I realized that it was a big fucking bruise!  Easily three inches long and half that in width.  And I have no idea whatsoever how I got it.  (And yeah, that worries me a mite.)

Anyway, I was there at the Hilton until about 6:30 or so.  And when I got back to my hotel, I checked my email, changed clothes, and headed out to Bertucci's!

Only to find it closed.

Yeah.  You could say I was fairly bummed.

So I walked back and decided to check out a slice shop I'd passed:  Pizza Pino.  Now, they sell both pizza and Mexican stuff.  So you can bet my hopes weren't high.

But y'know what?  It wasn't bad.  Oh, back when I lived here in the east, I would've called their pizza decidedly average.  But the simple truth is that "average" pizza from these  parts can hold its own against the best pizza the West has to offer.  (I'm not even counting chains like Domino's, Pizza Hut, Papa John's, Papa Murphy's, Papa Smurfs, or whatvever.  That shit tastes the same no matter what side of the country you're on.)

So it satisfied.  Two slices plain and a small fountain drink:  $5.47.  Damn.  And that fills you up, too!

And it's now nine o'clock.  I'm dead tired.  But since I've got a full tummy, that means it's time to hit the streets and take out some more bad guys!

Finally.

Last night was the final event in which I had any part, here in D.C.  It was a large dinner event with a speaker, incoming White House Spin Doctor Press Secretary Tony Snow.  On Monday, Dubya himself spoke to our sister organization, with whom we hold concurrent events. No, I didn't go see him.  Nor did I stay for Tony's speech.  I helped set up, handed out name badges, took a couple pics of Tony, and then bailed.  I opted for a Reuben sandwich in the pub of the Hay-Adams rather than the pine nut crusted chicken dinner at the Madison. 

Of course, the other reason I bailed early was because at some point during the long day's activity, I fucked up my back.  I'm not sure what I did, but it hurt to stand, it hurt to sit...  The only position that was comfortable was lying on my stomach, which I did for a while after returning to my room.

I didn't go down to the bar until about 9:00, at which point my co-workers were returning from the Madison.  Several small groups of them wound up in the bar, too.

This morning, I'm going to go over a few things with the hotel folks, have breakfast, then pack up my stuff.  In fact, my contact just called, so off I go!

Well, bloody hell.  I completed this whole entry, and MindSay logged me out and I lost it.  Pig poop.

Anyway, I finished talking with my hotel contact.  Turns out she grew up in Arcata, which is only about 10 or 15 minutes south of Trinidad, my favorite vacation spot.  I can't imagine what would cause someone to move away from that amazing area, but I'm sure she must've had her reasons.

My kid brother is allegedly coming in to visit me this afternoon.  For some reason, he was thinking I was free tonight, despite me telling him at least twice that I wasn't.  So he and his girlfriend will come in, we'll have dinner, and he'll drive me to Fredericksburg to visit O & N.  Wish I could tell them what time to expect me, but I can't give much more than a three-hour range.  (This really disturbs the OCD in me.)

That leaves me all afternoon to kick around D.C.  Wish I hadn't missed the cherry blossoms.  That would've been nice to see.  Maybe I'll take in a museum or something.  Certainly no lack of things to see or do, here.

As I type this, it's three a.m. on Friday morning.  My hosts have just gone to bed, after hours of talking, which followed hours of TV watching.  Earlier in the day, we went downtown for lunch and a little window shopping.  I met a couple other friends of theirs, both of whom were really nice, and who joined us for lunch.  I also forgot to mention that my friends have a roommate, who's also pretty cool, though I haven't seen a whole lot of him over the past day.

My train to NYC leaves in less than six hours, so I'll be lucky to get four hours of sleep tonight.  And the truth is, I'd have happily stayed up all night talking, if Opal had been able to do so, but she zonked out and had to go to bed.

Our conversations mostly revolved tonight around polyamory, and we shared our relevant histories with each other.  Earlier in the day, we talked about intentional communities.  Forming one is a dream of theirs, too.

I admit that I'd been having some reservations about coming out here to spend a day or two with O & N.  After all, I barely knew them.  Who knew if we'd actually get along in person?  But I feel so comfortable around these guys.  We agree on so many things, think alike in so many ways.  I'm incredibly glad I went with my instincts and came here.  It totally sucks that they live two thousand miles away from me.

The irony here is that they are practically polar opposites of my friend Cris, who I'll be seeing in New York.  Do I have any reservations or doubts about spending time with her?  Well, perhaps minor ones.  I really don't think she's much like the "memory" I have of her from more than a decade ago.  And yeah... I meant to put that word in quotes, because sometimes I think my "memory" of her is more my imagination than reality.  I think I've built an image of her that never really existed, but even if it did, I don't think it bears much resemblance to the person she is now.  Guess I'll know by tomorrow night.

My train will arrive in NYC just before two o'clock, which will give me a solid three hours or so before Cris even gets off work.  I think what I'm going to do is just get off the train at Penn Station, take the subway out to Brooklyn, then find the pizza joint she told me about that's only a fifteen minute walk from her place, and have her meet me there after work.  Beats walking around Manhattan with two bags of luggage, anyway.

Well, I think I really do want to get that four hours of sleep in...

It almost seemed as though the gods of transportation were out to get me, today... conspiring to keep me from reaching New York.

First there was the car accident.  Not one I was in, but one on the road in Virginia, which nearly made me miss my train.  Then, just as we were pulling into 30th Street Station in Philly, the engine died.  We were stranded there, without power, for about 90 minutes.  Somewhere in Jersey, there was a brush fire that somehow spread onto the tracks, and we proceeded very slowly for several miles while the fire department extinguished it.  By the time I reached NYC, it was well after 3:30... and our original arrival time was meant to be about 1:45.

But I made it, and still with time to kill before Cris got home from work.  I didn't do much... just had a beer before grabbing a taxi to Brooklyn.

Cris looks a good bit older than when we were co-workers back in Pennsylvania.  But then, so do I.  She's still very attractive, though.

We took a walk around her neighborhood, which she clearly loves a lot, before going out for sushi.  Then it was back to her apartment for more chatting.  I don't know what the plan is for tomorrow, but I'd certainly like to tackle it with more sleep than I got last night.

So I'm goin' to bed.

This entry brought to you courtesy of the unsecured wireless modem of one of Cris's neighbors. 

I meant to make an entry last night; I really did.  But the neighbor's connection wasn't very steady.  After giving up on playing City of Heroes, I just plain forgot about making a new entry.  Such is life.

So yesterday was nice.  Cris and I walked aroung lower Manhattan for a while.  Went to "Ground Zero."  It was fenced off in such a way that pedestrians really can't see much at all.  I took a couple pictures, but they're lame.

Yes, I did have pizza.  Yay!  I forget the name of the place, but it was good.  I had one of my favorites: a white pizza with spinach and ricotta cheese.  Mmm-mm!

For dinner we went to a pub, where I was able to have, for the first time, a Black Chocolate Stout from Brooklyn Brewery.  Very yummy.

After dark, we sat on the promenade there in Brooklyn Heights, looking at the Manhattan skyline.  Cris, however, is always cold, so we didn't stay out long.

We didn't really do a whole lot more than that.  Talked a lot.  Played with her cats, Lily and Olivia.  Both are Persians (well, Lily's Himilayan, but whatever).  Reminded me of Ashlar and Rowan, sort of.  (They're doing well, Lorelei assures me.)

Today we were back in Manhattan again, where I picked up some obligatory mementoes.  Got a NYC cap, a couple magnets, and two tiny mugs that will probably work well for espresso.  We had a late lunch at a diner.  Cris said I could grab my final slice of pizza before leaving for JFK, but instead I got it at the airport.  Not as good as yesterday's, but still better than Sacramento pizza.

My flight's at 8:30.  Arrives in Sacramento at 11:55 tonight.  By the time I get home and in bed, it'll be after one a.m.  Anyone want to place some bets on whether I make it to work by 8:00 tomorrow morning?

Cris and I talked a lot over the weekend, and a lot of it revolved around what we've done with our lives.  She's done quite well for herself, pulling down six figures as an occupational therapist.  And I... well, I haven't.  I make about a third of what she does, and can't ever expect to make much more than that in this field.

She's urging me to go back to school.  I've often thought about doing this, for the sake of getting my MFA.  But what can you do with an MFA other than teach?  And aside from my classes at The Learning Exchange, I really don't wanna teach.

One thing I've often considered doing, and others have said I'd be great at, is counseling.  I'm a natural "people reader," and even though I've never really studied much psychology, I'm pretty insightful.  I'm not saying that to brag; it just happens to be true.

But do I really want to work full-time, and go to school to get my Master's, and work on book marketing?  When will I have time to write?  Probably never.

Still, I really can't count on my books suddenly taking off and selling like crazy.  And I sure as shit don't want to continue working in my current field. I'm so sick of it.

We'll see.  It's something I've definitely got to think about.  Cris tells me I'm better than what I'm doing.  And I know I am.  My problem is that I'm too complacent.  It's one of many things about myself that I want to change.

So what am I waiting for?

It's been a hell of a busy week.  I really hate having to play catch-up after being gone for a week.  Yesterday, especially, was crazy.  Today, though, I'm taking it easy.  Both bosses are out of the office, so I'm taking care of some lingering stuff, but also slacking off a good bit.

But at least I showed up!

My paycheck was significantly larger than usual, due to all the overtime I put in during the D.C. trip.  I'd like to say that I'll be putting that extra money toward some of my bills... but I won't be.

I've got a couple large expenses coming up, one of which is a trip back home in July.  I need to get my tickets for that.  And even so, I'm going to need to cut corners on ground transportation while I'm there.  I'd love to have a rental car, but I don't think that's in the budget.  My nephew can pick me up at the airport.  My sister will probably be in town, too, so I can use her car while I'm there.  One of them can drive me down to State College and drop me off at Thia's place.  But then I'll need a car to get from there to Philly to visit the folks there. 

I remember when it used to be simple to go home for a visit.  But it hasn't been that way for 8 years, now.

The other big expense involves tuition, of a sort.  No, I'm not pursuing the Master's.  Not yet, anyway.  It's not out of the question that I may go for an MSW or LSCW at some point.  But not right now.

Still, I do want to be a counselor of some sort.  So I've been looking into life coaching for quite a while, and I think that's where I'll start.  The advantage of this is that I can get out there and start making some money much sooner than I could if I were going to school.  It's conceivable that within six months, I could have a nice little residual income to put toward my unpleasant amount of debt.  That's a nice thought.

I've whittled down the choices to half a dozen different programs.  I just need to decide and then enroll.  I'm of course tempted to just pick the cheapest one, but that's probably not the wisest decision.  Still, it's a matter of balancing my budget and my needs with what they've got to offer.  So we'll see.

No great plans for the weekend.  I need to clean my apartment something terrible.  And do some laundry.  Tomorrow is the Second Saturday Art Walk here in Sacramento.  I've only done that once before, the weekend Cheryl was in town.  But I think I'll hit some galleries tomorrow night.

Sunday is the scheduled Sac-Poly meeting in Davis.  Being Mother's Day, the turnout will likely be poor, but I'll probably go to that, anyway.

Beyond that, it's going to be a lazy weekend.  I haven't had one for a while, so I'm looking forward to it.

The weather here this week has been too damn warm.  Today, however, is beautiful.  According to the weather web site, it's 84 degrees out there.  And for this part of the state, that's just lovely.  (Back home, it would've been accompanied by 70% humidity and, therefore, would be miserable.)  Any warmer, and it would need a breeze to be comfortable, but right where it is... it's great.  For summer.

But really, I'd like to have some springtime.

Friday night, Lorelei asked me point blank, "If I could learn to deal with my jealousy issues, and be okay with the polyamory thing, would you want to get back together?"

Now, I've known all along that this conversation was bound to come up.  Despite that, I wasn't prepared for it.  So I sort of stumbled through it.  I told her that this was somewhat of a turnabout for her, because just a few months ago she was going on and on about how she could understand polyamory on an intellectual level, but could never accept it on an emotional level.  All the while, of course, trying to make me feel guilty for "choosing polyamory over our marriage."  (Not how it went down, of course, but whatever.)  And now here she is saying she can "work on it."

And it was sounding to me like she wanted to reunite now, and save the "working on it" until later.  I told her flat out that I thought that was a bad idea... that I felt she and I both need to heal and become strong as single individuals before we give serious thought to being a couple again.

I could tell she wasn't happy with this analysis, but we changed the subject and moved on.  And I'd hoped that she'd accept this logical response.

No such luck.

It came up again today, and it wasn't pleasant.  It was a two part conversation, with about four hours in between.  I wasn't up to talking about it at first, so I sort of ended the call quickly.  I could tell, though, that she felt put off.  Can't blame her, I guess.

Then later, when I called back, I could tell she'd been crying.  There was a lot said, but the gist of it was that she was trying to get me to say I wanted to get back together, unconditionally.  And that's simply not true.  I told her I had doubts about it, because of my doubts about turnaround on the poly subject.  She said I should feel flattered by the fact that she was willing to make such a change for me.  I told her I was, but that I couldn't help but also feel guilty about it, if that's what she chose to do.  And that I'd always fear that, some day in the not-too-distant future, she'd again decide that it wasn't a lifestyle she was comfortable with, and we'd be right back where we are now.

And finally, I admitted the biggie: that I was concerned that her whole reason for bringing this up at this point in time, her whole reason for wanting to get back together, was because she didn't want to be alone.  She very quickly said that wasn't it.  True, she didn't want to be alone, but she wanted to get back together because she loved me and wanted to be with me.

Again, I brought up my "sensible" approach... of us becoming healthier apart before reuniting.  She said, "Why does it have to be sensible?  Can't you just follow your heart?"

"Well, honestly," I said, "my heart's still a little sore."

She paused for a moment.  "Because of me?"

"Well, yeah," I said, remembering the rather brutal stomping she gave it last fall.  And at that point, she said she felt worse than before I called her, said she had to go, and hung up. 

After a minute, I called her niece, Kelli, who happens to live in the same apartment complex.  She said she'd pop over to see her, then call me back later.

To me - and of course, I could be wrong - this sounds like the co-dependency talking.  Oh, I'm sure she misses me, even still loves me...  but as I've written before, I really don't think she "gets" polyamory, so she's grasping at anything that will prevent her from having to live and function alone.  It's really sad, honestly.  I just wish she'd acknowledge this problem and get help for it.  She has a counseling session tomorrow.  Hopefully the doctor will be insightful enough to come to this realization quickly.

But what really kills me is how could she not think my heart would still be hurting?  Her actions last fall were very hurtful.  Looking back over entries from that period, I realize I've shared very little about these particular actions.  Why?  I'm not entirely sure.  Probably because I didn't want to reveal a whole lot about what she was going through, out of some sort of courtesy.  But the truth is, she treated me like shit for a while, and I've never felt as though she's totally acknowledged that, let alone apologized for it.

So yeah... I'm a bit hesitant to get re-involved, as you might expect.  And no, I'm not going to feel even the least bit guilty about saying so.

A couple months ago, while walking to work, I happened to spot something lying in the alley that probably shouldn't have been lying in an alley:  someone's driver's license and health ID card.  So I picked them up and took them to work.

The license had an address in San Jose, and yet, here they were in Sacramento.  And they hadn't been lying in the middle of the alley, as though they'd fallen from someone's purse or pocket, but way over to the side, in a flower bed, as though they'd been thrown there.

Thinking this person may have recently moved to Sactown, I tried to find an address for her, but failed.  I even called her health provider, but they wouldn't give me an address for her, either.  So I mailed them to San Jose, hoping they'd be forwarded.

Today, I received a letter from her, thanking me for sending them.  She had, in fact, recently moved here.  And her car had been broken into.  (Welcome to Sacramento, dear.)  She thanked me profusely, and (much to my amazement and slight embarrassment) enclosed a $25 gift card to Olive Garden.

Who says it doesn't pay to do something nice for a stranger?