Snippets

* This sculpture figures prominently at one of my worksites. I'm always fixated on the three breasts.

* Sometimes life is like a University of Pain. It's the extracurricular activities that bring joy and love.

* The thing about "coming out" is this: Life is ultimately easier to live when you have nothing to hide. This is the most compelling argument I can offer.

* Jobs that reward dishonesty: salesperson, politician, lobbyist, evangelist.

* You learn by doing, not by reading. Until you do it, it's only a supposition.

* I've noticed that trees generally lose their leaves from the top down. In spring, the leaves appear first at the bottom and then rise to the top. So. The lower leaves "live" longer.

* A fly lives but 10 days. It seems cruel to squash them.

* I have seen a sprite.

* Proverbially, you mustn't:
- count chickens prior to their hatching
- judge a book by its cover
- disturb a sleeping dog
- fix something that isn't broken
- put all of one's eggs into a single basket
- put the cart before the horse
- call a kettle black (particularly if you are a pot)

* Every great advance in science has been subsequently disproven. Makes you wonder about the term "scientific fact."

* I have bungee jumped, ridden in a glider and performed the duties of a jury foreman.

* The same guy who designed Central Park in New York also designed Montreal's Mount Royal Park. Frederick Law Olmsted.

* I really can't fathom the importance of whether or not someone "believes" in God. Yet some people believe this distinction is worth killing for. (Or at the very least, casting aspersion.)

----------------------------

Just a note to let you know that due to the move, I'll be taking a short break from the puter. I wish everyone a wonderful weekend and I'll see you sometime next week. (I'm shooting for Tuesday.) Ciao!

Mini rant

So last week when we came to realize that we had to buy a new fridge for the tenants, we went on line and ordered from Home Depot. The next day, we were told the item was "backordered". So I went on foot to shop and found one that could be delivered Wednesday at the earliest. (yesterday) The one I wanted (and which was the same price) had two separate doors for the freezer and fridge components. It, however, was on backorder. The one I then selected had the freezer inside the fridge, which we all know is less desirable. Availability was the deciding factor, and since it was, I bought it.

They delivered the wrong fridge. The one they delivered had no freezer inside. The tenants called. We called the store. They gave us the warehouse number. We called and will now have to wait until Friday or Saturday for them to rectify the error.

In addition, the tenants complained that the fridge would have a freezer inside instead of separate. We have been breaking our backs bending over to lick these kids asses, and this is what you get.

Sometimes, you just can't win.

The state of things

The house is a shambles. Boxes everywhere. The fridge is bare and the pantry contents are boxed up. It's times like this I loathe being a consumer. There are still unopened boxes in the basement from when we moved here two years ago and now we're going to lug them over to the new place. Anybody want a complete set of encyclopedia? They seem obsolete now that we've got Wikipedia online.

I can't believe we procrastinated for two years on fixing up this place. We've put in about 20 hours each and are almost done. Especially considering that I had two months off this summer (and last).
Every time I move, I say to myself, "This is the last time."

It never is though.

Procrastinator

I have six minutes to complete this post. I've prepared nothing, nor have I anything in mind on which to pontificate. I'd love to regale you with more tales of pornstar, or rant about the landslide of things that need to be done before we move Sunday, but (now there's four minutes) details are really not that important.

It's like school. I don't remember most of the details I learned in school. Mostly, I learned how to manage my time, how to do someone else's bidding, how to change my behaviour in different environments. (say Gymclass vs Biology)

I'm rallying those skills I learned way back when in order to accomplish everything . And I still have no need for the details. Dates of wars, the impact of the industrial revolution, mitochondria and the mechanics of recession do not aid so much in real life.

Now why wasn't there a class on avoiding procrastination? (I'm done now, with 4 seconds to spare.)

I get hate mail

Every once in a while, I find some hystrionic tirade in my inbox. It's always an anonymous commenter of course, and sometimes I have trouble finding which post the comment was left on. This was the case this morning. What I find over and over again is that the most vicious of comments are always replete with spelling errors and exude closed-mindedness.

Here are some gems:

* If your a left wing communist loser that loves to rape children up there ass because your gay, than Montreal is the place for you.

Wow, four errors in one sentence. And the sentiment just warms the cockles (I said cock, tee hee) of my heart.

* I could go on and on, but I must say Quebec women are sluts, putes, all have AIDS, ugly, disgusting, they look like men with lipstick, and we are a disgusting melting pot

Ten bucks says you're single and bitter.

* And oh by the way, the Anglos used to control Montreal when it was prosperous; lets just say downtown Montreal is equivalent to bombed out Iraq

All I see downtown is new construction and working people. I would use the word "vibrant" to describe it. Your comparison is like saying broccoli is equivalent to ice cream.

If you want to read the full text of the comment, it's on the post from Sep 6th.

While I'm horrified at the sentiment, I'm also grateful for this morning's blog fodder that it supplied.

In contention for boringest post

What to write about. Hmmm. The weather? Always good for a laugh, that. (It's muggy and rainy.) There is a report of Bin Laden's death being played down by world leaders. Seems he got sick with the typhoid. If true, that would mean he had ingested feces-tainted water containing Salmonella bacteria. It's probably untrue though, we'll see.

The renovation continues, as does the unstaunchable flow of dollars. It seems my old nemesis Visa and I have reconciled, and I keep trying to reassure myself by saying, "At least you're getting airmiles." Today, we've got a few places to sand and reputty, and a few more baseboards and moldings to put up, and then we're all done but the painting.

We scheduled the moving truck for next Sunday. We don't even have any boxes yet. And there's this piddly little matter of working all week. Looks like we'll have to pull all this together next Saturday. (This is a paragraph I would normally delete, but since we're competing for boringest post....)

Woke up at 3am this morning and then stayed in bed, flipping this way and that, spouse having fallen asleep on the couch. He is actually getting up right now as I type, the earliest I think I've ever seen him rise. Good. Time to get to work. Good Sunday everyone.

I'm not always PC

Once I said to a coworker, "Why are you acting like such a selfish bitch?" Okay, maybe I shouted it within earshot of her customers. She burst into tears and ran off the floor. (This is restaurant speak for leaving the public serving area.) Management had to service her tables for a while before she was able to regain her composure.

It was New Year's Eve.

At the end of my shift, the owner wished to speak to me. I was given a warning and told that calling another employee a bitch was grounds for termination. I explained what had led up to my outburst (owner then realized how tame the word bitch was in this situation) and pointed out that I hadn't called her a bitch, I had only questioned why her behaviour resembled that of a bitch.

The owner smiled and even stifled a laugh and tore up the written warning.

Now, I can't even remember the bitch's name.

Snippets

* Trees are individuals too. Here's one who has donned a yellow coat before his brethren.

* I believe in the three M's: Modesty, moderation and manners.

* When I was young, my father had one of those label makers that were all the rage then. He used it to affix a message on my bathroom mirror. "Don't do it the easy way. Do it the best way." (This was to spur better brushing of teeth.) I still struggle to follow this sound advice.

* Hexagons are big in nature. Snowflake and honeycomb for example.

* If I'm pollyanna, spouse is mr. pissy. Together we are balance.

* Sometimes I open gifts and think, "Crap, another thing to dust."

* I'm an INTJ on the Meyers-Briggs personality scale.

* It's probably true that none of us has had an original thought. Surely someone has thought the same thing before you. There are exceptions. Einstein, for one.

* "Back ordered" means "We don't have it and we don't know if we can get it but we'll take your money anyway."

Spotty

I just have time for a quickie this morning. I'm so behind on everything because new "surprises" keep popping up. My blogosphere presence will most likely be spotty for the next couple of weeks.

Remember that fridge? It's shot. Apparently when you seal up a fridge like that, odors impregnate the insulation. It is suggested that you make the fridge into a "soda fridge" and put it outside since it will likely take months (if ever) for the odor to diminish. We ordered a new one last night from Home Depot.

Oh and our new tenants found used syringes behind the armoire. They arrived from France last week. Welcome to Quebec. (Honestly, we are mor-ti-fied about this.)

There's more (like the underside of the mattress that looks like a woman gave birth on it), but it's all just too painful and messy.

I know that sagas are long, but I also understand that they have endpoints. I sure hope the end of this one is near. Sigh.

And by today, I mean yesterday

Today I saw a man in front of the library. He walked up to the large public ashtray and pulled open the top to inspect the bin below. There, he poked and prodded and found a suitable butt for smoking. He took four drags once he lit it and then threw it to the ground before entering the library.

Today I saw a man holding the hand of another man on the subway.

Today I saw a man behind the wheel of a moving truck attempting to navigate into an alley. He didn't quite make the turn and had to reverse a bit in order to do so. The trouble was, he couldn't ge it into gear despite the mocking of his peers who had jumped out to direct. The crowded bus I was on was stuck behind this poor guy as he tried and tried, the grinding of metal announcing each failure. As the vexation of the passengers increased, they began to holler out the windows. Finally, red faced and sweaty, the guy did it. Nobody applauded, though he deserved it.

Today I saw a man in a wheelchair drooling. "Pencils 25 cents" read the sign in his lap.

Today I saw a man wearing the full sissy kit. As he sashayed on the subway quai, all eyes were upon him. (I love my people.)

It's a malady

The culling of materiel has begun. Moving always sucks (there is no thesaurus entry for sucks with this meaning) and it's very important to rid yourself of everything unnecessary before you move. Going through the boxes stored in the basement, I found all my important papers from 1990-1995. I don't know why I still have this box, I had stored a few at my dad's house when I moved to Canada, and I guess he sent them to me subsequently. Anyway, it's so strange to see my writing and lists from so long ago. Writing in codes that I don't understand anymore. Who was this person who saved every scrap of financial paper? And I found my budget books. For years I wrote down every penny I made and spent on a daily basis. (I was a waiter.) At the end of each month, I added up the columns to find what had consumed the most resources, and then tried to adjust my spending habits based on the information.

It's why I drink tap water and cut coupons.

Though I don't do the budget book anymore, the self training has ultimately been a good thing.

I just wish I could let myself splurge sometimes.

Rotting potatoes

Look like this:

Unfortunately there is no Yousmell.com (though that's a million dollar idea, eh?) for you to fully appreciate what an assault on one's senses they are. I suppose eventually this fecund spud-matter could be rendered into vodka.

I threw up the moment after I took this picture. (See what I put myself through to bring my life to life for you?)

These potatoes were inside of a refridgerator at the new place. Pornstar had decided that it would be better to seal the entire fridge with duct tape instead of cleaning it out. And then, as a bonus, he unplugged the fridge - all the better for festering don't ya know.

We had to clean it out and tidy up the newly available apartment. (Because pornstar kicked out the old tenant who was apparently a junkie and a perpetrator of robbery. Oh but he didn't mention any of that to us until he had already done it. Even though we're the owners. We had to chastise him severely for this and talk to the police. He doesn't seem to take chastising well.)

Since it appears we are no longer on speaking terms with pornstar (a child he is, plain and simple) I foresee other little surprises. (And I sure hope he's not reading this, lol)

The good news is that he and his wife have found a new place to live and will be out within two weeks.

Working on the weekend

We have two more weekends after this one to finish prepping the apartment we're in for new renters. (Just so everyone is on the same page: We live in a triplex that we own and we are moving into the fiveplex that we just bought.) In about five hours yesterday, we completed quite a bit of patching which makes me shake my head at how we procrastinated for two full years on it.

Spouse: I hate renovating. (He is standing on the ladder placing a piece of molding for measuring)

Me: I know, me too. But we could choose to love it.

Spouse: No, I hate it. Hand me a pencil.

Me: (handing him pencil.) But we have three weekends of this, we have no choice but to do it. Don't you think if we can stay away from the attitude of hating it, that it might be a little easier.

Spouse: No, I hate it. (probably wishing he could slap me)



This morning we've got to go over to the new place and change a couple of locks, replace a broken window, and take inventory of the things that were stolen. Then more work here this afternoon sanding and placing moldings and baseboards. Scintillating, huh?

Cul serré

I swear I wasn't fishing for compliments yesterday, but it sure was nice to receive them!

The goal this weekend is to finish the bathroom. The problem with our apartment is that we renovated everything but didn't really finish. So a couple walls are still unpatched and painted, there are lots of moldings and baseboards to install. The piddly jobs that we procrastinated on for over a year. (Yes I know that's not a complete sentence.)

We already had a row over the "finishing". Our disputes always go something like this:

Spouse: We have to replace the baseboard heater in the bedroom.

Me: Why? It works fine.

Spouse: It's old and it's going to break soon. Plus look how ugly it is. A new white one will look so much better.

Me: It's a rental unit! Why replace something that works.

Spouse: It's forty dollars. That's nothing.

Me: It's wrong thinking is what it is. This is a business. We live in a shitty neighborhood. There's no point in styling out the place.

Spouse: I'll pay for it.

Me: Pfft.

I imagine this conversation will play out in many forms in the coming weeks. I think I feel my inner tightwad surfacing.

Snippets

* Life is an adventure. Adventure carries risks. Embrace it.

* I just realized we're a half million dollars in debt.

* Apparently, the shooting here was carried out by a man whose fave games were "Postal" and "Columbine Massacre", role playing games where you can "be" the killer in the tragic news events as they really happened. My question is what kind of a person develops and markets such a game? What next? Fly planes into buildings with the new game, 9-11 Hijacker. With the slogan: "Only the devoted reach their targets. Can you?"


* There has been a dearth of photos of late. So I took this one yesterday during my break downtown. God I'm looking old.

* If human beings are borne of nature, then these shooting events are, like it or not, as "natural" as earthquakes and tsunamis. (And killing stingrays.)

* It always feels better to be grateful for what you have than to covet what you don't. Always.

* Every vegan I've ever met strikes me as sickly.

* The first concert I ever attended was "The Little River Band".

* Ever wonder where the expression "the spitting image" came from? Could be nasty don't you think?

* The shooter had a blog. In it, he detailed his desire for mayhem and his love of assault weapons. This begs the question, "Where do the limits of freedom of expression end and the security of the population begin?" Since 9-11, the U.S has been soul searching the same question.

* Oh yeah, Pink Martini is a band and China Forbes is the singer. You can see a nice vid here. Here's a guy (not me!) who lipsyncs one of their songs. The title of yesterday's post comes from that. (Which was like winking at myself since I knew no one would get the reference.)

Puis, je, fume.

It appears we had a Columbine-esque event here yesterday. Though we are well, the city spirit is bruised.

We have decided to move to the new place and spend the next four weeks repairing everything here in order to do so.

Spouse informed pornstar that he has to move as we are going to take his apartment. (He offered to pay for a year up front, but we want nothing to do with him anymore.) If our first impression of pornstar was of drooling adoration, the behaviour since has reversed any trace of this impression.

We went to see Pink Martini in concert last night. China Forbes is fucking fabulous. It was nice to forget our woes for a moment.

It's raining.

When spouse talked to the police yesterday, they found our situation highly amusing. This was not entirely comforting.

If you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with. (They mean yourself, don't they?)

Sorry about the jaggedness of my thoughts. We've got a serious month ahead of us, and it's early. Must go. Love to all....

Sorry, must be vague

There's already drama over at the new place. I can't really go into details here, but let's just say someone has been fibbing about things. And the same someone who has been fibbing now wants to stay for another year. It's always fun to be showing a potential renter an apartment when the occupant decides at that moment to express the desire to stay.

There's more to the story including pawn shops, robbery, broken window, blood and syringes. Oh yeah and a police report that may or may not exist.

The long and short of this is that spouse and I are seriously considering moving over there now. It looks like the money troubles have only just begun! So exciting! (smell, won't you, my conflagrant sarcasm.)

Might as well giggle along with the gods above, since it is they who have orchestrated all of this for their amusement.

I sense more sleepless nights coming.......

What's the difference between Roast Beef and Pea Soup?

Give up?

Anyone can Roast Beef. (I know, I know, I'm always telling the same damn jokes.)

Bush addressed the nation last night. Did you see it? See how he continues to insist on pronouncing it nukular? He's been doing that for what, 6 years now? I half expected him to say "amotic" too. As usual, I hurled balled up papers at the screen. As he babbled on about the "necessity" for war in Iraq, you know, to render the world "safer", I couldn't stop remembering his reaction to events five years ago, and his subsequent insistence on invading a country based on information he knew to be untrue.

And I felt rage at my countrymen with their heads up their asses for putting him in power.

Just look at him! Does he inspire confidence and trust? He looks like a bumbling buffoon to me.

Nukular!

(This is what happens when you're tired of being tired and the muse is on sabbatical.)

Five years ago

It was another ordinary day of teaching to do. I got to work at 8:45 so I could make copies and set up the classroom for the day's lessons. Two Spanish students had just returned from a trip to New York and had pictures with them. We saw them in Times Square, the Statue of Liberty and atop the twin towers. I thought about the times I had visited that rooftop platform, the view, the immensity of the humanity below. After two hours of grammar, we took a short break before the conversation workshop began. I had five minutes to run outside and smoke and run through in my head the activities I had planned for the next two classroom hours. I was pacing on the sidewalk when a taxi pulled up to the curb and dropped a young man off. He ran up to me and said:

"Did you hear about the twin towers? They're gone!"

"What? Why..."

"Two planes hit the towers and they collapsed!"

"Why are you telling me this, it's not funny."

"Seriously, man! I just heard it on the radio in the taxi. We're under attack by terrorists."

The young man ran off. I didn't know what to think. I thought he was just another crazy stalking downtown. Though he was in a taxi. Shit, I can't think about this, I've got a class to teach.

I went back upstairs and found all the students huddled around a radio, listening. My heart sunk. No, no no. And I sat and listened to the frenetic reports being aired. After an hour, we all talked about it. Some students weren't surprised, the US had it coming. The two Spaniards were stricken, their faces drained of colour. Mostly we all felt insecure, most of us far from our families (the students were from abroad) and the threat of further attack shook us all.

Finally, at 1pm, I left work and walked down Ste Catherine street dazed and saddened when I came upon a crowd assembled at the corner of Peel. A la Times Square, there was a large electric billboard above the intersection with CNN being broadcast. It was there that I saw the images come to life of what I had only heard about until then. For 45 minutes I stood there, sensing the sea change in the world, mourning. There was no sound, but the images were riveting.

Then I went home and watched tv just like the rest of the world. I kept thinking, "why do they hate us so much" and "what have we done to engender such hatred, and how can we repair it?" I mean c'mon, it takes two to tango.

In my weaker moments, I might have thought, "let's bomb the hell out of the arabs".

But mostly, I felt overwhelming sadness.

Nuthin' much

I'm glad Sunday is here. After spending all day yesterday getting caught up on my lesson planning, Serge and I enjoyed having dinner with our friend Dan, a good friend of long duration who arrived bearing libations. We laughed, told jokes and shared pictures.

I got sucked into the "twin towers" show on Discovery this week and I can't shake some of the images. I realize I've shunned anything to do with that event for many years. And now that stupid show has infiltrated my dreams. Twice now, I've woken up because of the same dream. I'm trapped on the upper floors and I break open a window and jump out. I look for my parachute and realize I don't have one and then wake up at the point of impact. Damn discovery channel.

Perhaps I'll write about that surreal day tomorrow.

For now, I'm grateful for another day, a warm bed, a hot meal. I think I'll spend the day sitting in gratitude. Peace.

Squirrel dance

I just went outside for a morning cig and coffee on the patio. A bold squirrel came within two feet of me and stood up with his little hands in the air. (So humanlike, those hands.) Never one to say no to a query from wildlife, I went inside to get him something. A little dog kibble perhaps? No, no, might as well have brought out shit sandwiches. Hmmm. Nuts, that must be what they want. So I went back inside and found some sesame seed covered snacks, and brought those out. Bingo! I think he would have eaten out of my hand if I'd have let him, but after what happened to the crocodile hunter...... But then he took the snack and went into the yard, dug a little hole, covered the hole back up with dirt and then patted it down pattycake style. Then he came back. Another more skittish squirrel joined this dance and I fed them both, one by one, and then they buried. After burying two or three in my yard, they started going to the next yard and burying them there. As they were both burying their snacks next door, the neighbor came out with a broomstick. Shrieking and whacking at the squirrels, they fled and she chased and then whacked the fence a last time for final measure. Clack! I hid my snacks and smirked at my guilt.

They say most oak trees are born of squirrels burying the acorns and then forgetting where they buried them.

Snippets

* Why is it that the older we get, the more prudent we become? The logical behaviour would be to be more prudent when you are young, because you've got so much lifetime to lose.

* The tomato plant exploded with blossoms last week and now sports a dozen new baby tomatoes. I hope they get a move-on because the first frost is only a couple weeks away.

* I've always liked pop music. I have been informed more than once that this makes me a "musical retard", for lack of better words. It used to bother me, now I just think f&*% you.

* I'll take "depth of compassion" over "strength of conviction" anyday.

* In 75 years everyone you know and love will be dead (including yourself). My point? Stop taking everything so seriously.

* Here's why I'll never master gender in French. Vagina is masculine and beard is feminine.

* I'd like to add to the cultural fashion rules. In addition to white, flipflops are not to be worn after labor day.

* In related news, cracked, scaly heels are just gross.

* I have about as much interest in Tom's baby as I do for the mechanics of tampons.

* If the diversity of the human species is mirrored in other species, maybe that killer stingray was just (unluckily for Steve) schizophrenic.

* My favorite blog line this week came from Dirk. Re-installing the mother fucking programs, however, was harder than Woody Allen at an asian orphanage. I'll have you know Dirk, that this constitutes the highest form of flattery.

A brother!

It's the first day of a new class, and I've just finished my abridged version of the road to Montreal. It's now time to learn a bit about the three men in front of me. There's J, young, bright and studious looking telling us about his wife of four years and their new baby. The baby slept through the night after two weeks. Cluck cluck, lucky man. Next P talks about his life with his partner, he doesn't need no stinking marriage certificate, the kids know who their parents are. He's a man of his years, direct and to the point. Next we have S, married for 2 years, just bought a condo.

"Do you have any children yet, S?"

"No."

"Why not?" (I suddenly realize the indelicacy of the question, but too late it's already out of my mouth. Cut me some slack, it's 7:30 in the morning for chrissakes.)

"Because HE cannot have a baby."

"That's the best answer I've heard yet! Welcome to the class S."


(Btw, I dislike writing in the present tense.)

Top ten reasons I love it here

6 years ago today, I arrived in Montreal to live permanently. I was 35 and we arrived with 2 boxes, 2 suitcases, 1 computer and our dog. It hasn't taken long to fill every nook and cranny in the house with crap, you would never believe we "started" accumulating just 6 years ago. And while I miss the proximity of family and good friends enormously, Skype and frequent visits to California have lessened the pain somewhat. I can't imagine wanting to live anywhere else than here, so I must be in the right place. If only there was no February on the calendar.......

10. No car! A car is more of an impediment here than anything. No tickets, registration, insurance, horns, accidents. Letting other people drive is really the way to go. Luckily, with public transportation so efficient, one doesn't need to be wealthy enough for a private chauffeur.

9. All the terrible "fried and fatty" foods that we learn to shun in California are staples here. No more guilt over french fries. (In fact, we build whole MEALS around them.)

8. Dedicated bike paths. The city is riddled with them. I've timed it, and I can beat the bus on my bike.

7. The question is not "if " you give to beggars, it's "how".

6. Going to the doctor costs nothing.

5. I speak two languages, as do most denizens of the city. I can't explain exactly how that translates to tolerance, but it does.

4. The city takes pride in and supports its gay population and activities.

3. Summer in Montreal is a two month party. Seriously. (and yes, summer lasts two months here)

2. Smoking might be harmful to your health, but it doesn't make you low class. (yet)

1. You can still rent a one bedroom apartment for yourself for under $500. Electricity included. (If we go broke on real estate, we can always rent a cheap apartment!)

Free weed

Ran into our old upstairs neighbor yesterday. We sold our loft in his building and moved here (2 blocks away) 18 months ago. He had some interesting news to share with us. The ground floor condo in the building was sold in March ostensibly to transform what was an appliance shop into a residential condo. They heard the hammering and machines but they rarely saw the owner. (It's a fourplex building) Anyway, next door, there was a fire last week and the firemen came and put it out and then came to their building to make sure no fire had spread. (It hadn't but there was a good deal of smoke.) That was when they discovered a hydroponic plant operation in the basement with a thousand marijuana plants. The firemen confiscated the bags of finished product and cut the tops off all the growing plants and turned off all the machinery. The owner of the unit was (surprise, surprise) not around.

The police picked him up the next day.

A couple days later, a terrible smell started to permeate the building. A rotting smell. An instant gag tickler. Enraged, the other unit owners went down the fire exit and axed down the inside door to the ground unit. The plants were rotting and the room was stiflingly humid. Mold covered all the corners of the walls. So they had to dispose of all this stuff to get rid of the smell. In the end, they had 39 trash bags of plant material. A little nervous about the contents, they called the city to tell them what they were putting out to be picked up.

But when the trash people arrived, only 3 bags remained on the sidewalk.

Gotta love this neighborhood.

Bizarro

(I decided that it would be more prudent to repost this once we are disentangled with this person. I'll put this post back up in thirty days.)

Opening the box

And to think I thought my problem was on the outside. Silly me.

Blog day off

Blogger dumped my post. Too much to do to rewrite. Nothing interesting to report anyway. Peace.

Snippets

* We closed escrow yesterday. The porn star house is ours. Yippee!

* In extreme cheap mode, I will cut the toothpaste tube in half when it's "done" and then I can scrape out two more brushings worth.

* I need to put "worrying" in the same category as "guilt", both useless emotional exercises.

* Uh oh. The trees are yellowing.

* Wednesday's discussion was fascinating. I especially liked Marc's comment about "critical thinking". Faith is the opposite of critical thinking. (In saying that, I may be inviting diatribes, but whatever.)

* Sara is getting old. She's 12 now. We're mixing in wet with her dry food to enhance her enjoyment of her twilight years.

* Productivity gives a person a sense of value. Overproductivity gives a person an ulcer. Slothlike behaviour induces ennui. Do you see why balance is so important?

* I still haven't opened the box.

* Working on labor day is like being born on Christmas.

* There's a fine line between glib and pithy. This snippet would qualify as glib.