Wrong word

We went to a party Saturday night at Prickly’s neighbors. It was a fun party. Good food, beer, champagne. The usual thing where you sit around and chat, swap stories, tell a joke or two.
Then we all sat at a table and began playing a game. I don’t recall the name, but it was fun. (that everyone had a few drinks under their belts made it more fun)

One of the ladies there was named Tiff. Good looking young lady, but perhaps not as young as she thought she was. She was there with her boyfriend. I think what bothered me was the little alarm that rang in the back of my mind.

So I was at one end of the table and Tiff was at the other. Fishing buddy, Prickly, and Wonder-Girl to my right. Everyone else spread around the table. At one point, Tiff looked at me and said “magnum. You look like Magnum. Is it okay if I call you that?”
“Ah, that’s what my wife calls me sometimes.”
“And Prickly says you resemble him.” Says WG.

(‘Actually’, I thought, ‘you can’t’.)
Prickly and Fishing buddy made little sexual comments about things being ‘magnum’. That’s okay, they are my friends.

But Tiff seemed to have latched on to me, usually directing questions and stuff to me. Now I don’t mind a little attention, heck, everyone likes at little attention from a good looking member of the opposite sex. But a little goes a long way. Oh sure, if you are single, it is nice. But if you are married, it makes one uncomfortable.
During one break, Tiff was chatting with WG and actually said, ‘You don’t think I am hitting on your husband? ‘Cause I’m not.’
(‘darlin, if you have to ask, you have already stumbled over the line)
I suppose if she had been sober she would have behaved better. But she sure made me uncomfortable.

It’s funny because I remember when Little Shrimp and I were chatting once on IM and she mentioned that I looked a little like Magnum P.I. and that she could call me ‘magnum’. I responded back that that’s what WG sometimes calls me.
Little Shrimp responded back, “oh, then I won’t”
From six thousand miles away she understood that it was WG’s nickname for me and therefore she could not use it.

Some women understand personal nicknames and know how to act properly, others I guess just don’t.

Seduced another

So I sent this picture about holiday decorations to NDN (next door neighbor). Her response was, ‘Don't you be getting any ideas!’

I think it’s kinda nice that she would even think that I might do this to her house. I guess it’s like Oscar Wilde once said. “I’m not saying that we should misbehave, but that we should look as if we are capable of misbehaving at any time.”

My work is done with her. Without ever doing anything, my reputation is set.

So I have seduced another to the dark side of the farce.

Shucky-darn

I think it was YS who first started using this expression, years ago. We all began using it and it means a pleasant misfortune.
Like last week. When WG made her great fudge. Unfortunately, she messed up the timing of the cooking just a little bit. The resulting batch, while tasting good, did not have the smooth creamy texture it is supposed to have.
“This is simply not good enough to share with anyone.” She declared. “You will have to eat it all.”

“Well Shucky-darn”

Justifiable homicide

So I was in the jewelry store looking for some emeralds for WG. (I had already been to six others) There was a nice earring, pendant and ring set. Simple, the way WG likes her jewelry. But WG doesn’t wear many rings because of her knuckles get swollen from arthritis. I asked the clerk if it was sold without the ring. She said no, but suggested that I could give the ring to someone.
Okay, freeze frame, and let’s think this through. A married gentleman does not give jewelry to any woman, except to his wife. Though I have a lot of women friends and they all like jewelry; they would also think it inappropriate to receive jewelry from me. Maybe the clerk thought I had sisters I could give it to? But how would I split one ring among sisters? To be fair, each would have to be given a ring.

I think the clerk just didn’t think it through.

It was like that time a lady at a store handed me a flier for a new weight loss spa. She suggested I take it home to my wife.
How stupid was this woman? What man would bring something like that home to his sweetie?
Hand that to your wife, implying that she is fat? Would you really expect to wake up the next day?

There is such a thing as justifiable homicide and you know an all woman jury would acquit her.

I did find a nice pendant and was able to find matching earrings. I hope she likes them. And if not, well then I can take her shopping after her birthday and find her something better.

It’s not easy being me

So, the other day I IM’d Fever-girl to ask how she was doing. (I was concerned about her, Dengue fever can be a serious hemorrhagic illness). She said, “I am pretty and cutie fine. :-)”. I knew she was feeling much better, for you could almost hear her smile.

I always have fun chatting with her.

Then last week we had to do that ‘sensitivitysexualharrassmentethicsdotherightthing’ BS at work. Instead of a seminar, you read things on the web and then agree to be a good boy at work. Really effective.

So the next time I was chatting with her, I told her that I should really follow the guidelines at work. So, to avoid the risk of offending her, I should no longer refer to her as pretty or cute.
You could almost hear the ‘harrumph’ from seven thousand miles away.
‘I would be offended if you stopped calling me pretty or cute.’ She said. ‘And furthermore, I was pretty and cute long before there was any company policy!’

Yes, do not get ‘small but terrible’ upset.
So to keep our friendship, I will continue to refer to her as ‘PQ’.

But you know what is going to happen. Others will read this and insist that I call them ‘pretty’ or ‘cute’. (Heavens, I do not want to see Willow pout!)

But I must be careful! For I know that Skinner would be incensed if I called her cute. ‘Cute is for little girls’ she once said.

So I walk the fine line, ever struggling to keep my friends happy, ever mindful to use just the right word.

Thank goodness that Wonder-Girl accepts most any compliment, when properly given.

A new way forward

Maybe I am dating myself, but the recent announcement that Bush is looking for 'a new way forward' sure reminds me of that line from David Frosts 'All purpose political speech' where he says,


'For it's only with your back against the wall, that you can then move forward'

Nomenclature

We bought a wrought iron table base from a salvage yard last year. Wonder-Girl like the looks of it and we bought it. Three months ago, we took it down to a shop and had it powder coated. (that’s a very thick, enamel like coating)
Last week, we finally ordered the glass table top for it.

So my son called the other day and asked what was new. I told him that we finally got the glass top for the patio table. And it is now on the back deck.
“Does the Master like it?” He asked.
“You mean the Mistress? Yes, she likes it.”
“I wouldn’t use that word.”
“Why not? It is the female word for Master.”
“But it has the other connotation.”
“And that’s okay. We are married after all.” (and I gave him my best dirty old man laugh)

So folks, use the right nomenclature. A man may be the Master of his destiny, but a woman is the Mistress of hers.

Of course, one could argue that Wonder-Girl is the Mistress of my destiny. And if that is so, then I accept my fate.

The Bolero in the corner.

Ever paint yourself into a corner? Sitting there stuck. Nothing you can say or do. Been there, done that; will do it again.

I remember Rooster once said, ‘There are no ugly women, just ones I don’t find attractive.’ It made me think a little.
Now we have all seen someone who looks like one of the Gorgon sisters, or perhaps Quasimodo. I suppose those are the exceptions that prove the rule. (go look up prove in the dictionary.) But since I consider ugly to be someone that is painful to look at. Most people aren’t ugly.

So then, I classify them as attractive, or not. Either I am drawn to a woman, or not.
So women fall into this huge sliding scale. Those outside the lines are not attractive. Those inside the lines are. I know that part of it is instinctive and visual. But there it is and you have to live with how you are made.
You know, it is easy to say nice things about a person that you find attractive. Wonder Girl has probably gotten tired of all the nice things I say about her, so I try to come up with new ones.

And it’s a fine line you walk, doling out the compliments. You want to be nice, but not become known as just Bolero (a smooth talker).
And it pains me to see my friends beat themselves up over their perceived flaws. So I try to be complimentary.
So when I say to one friend(who thinks she is fat), you are nice and curvy, I know I am close to crossing the line(for I dare not say that you are attractive). And at that moment, my other friend realizes that no matter how fond I am of her, I have just placed her on the other side of the line.

And there I sit in the corner, wet paint all around. By trying to be nice to one, I have maybe hurt another.

But my silence would have hurt them all.

Thanksgiving

Was at our house this year. With only nine guests, it should be a more intimate gathering.
Of course, WG started a few days early, getting as much prepped ahead of time. With her directing and me assisting, the work is fairly easy. So Wednesday I picked up Aunt Obie and the final prep was done.
So Thursday, it was get the bird in the oven and finish setting up. This way, when the guest arrived, we could chat for a while. Younger Brother, his wife, and their son; mom, step-mom and dad, a cousin and cousin’s boyfriend.
Snacks are eaten and the dog has settled down. Once the bird is done and sits, the rest of the food goes in the oven. Neat and organized.

The good thing is that we all get along and we all behave. No one argues about stuff. There is enough to talk about without getting someone riled up. But that is how we are.
Everything was done on time and dinner was served at three. Quiet descends as we dig into the favorites. Turkey, mashed potatoes, baked yams, stuffing, green-bean casserole.

After dinner, several people just got up and began clearing the plates, washing dishes and general cleanup.
Then it was dessert time. Pumpkin pie with real whipped cream, pecan-pie bars and cranberry bread.

The nice thing is that everyone helps; if not during the prep, then during the cleanup after. It sure makes things easier for WG and me.

All in all; a nice, pleasant get together with many of the family.

And by seven, everything is put away and the house is back to normal.

Creator and Destroyer

Maybe it is the birdseed we put out, maybe it is the hedge that has grown up along our back fence. Regardless of the cause, all summer long, our backyard has been home to 3-4 dozen little Finches. (Possibly house Finches) They are kinda fun to watch, but at times, when they are all chatting, the chittering can drive you mad. The only way to quiet them is to shake the hedge. Then some fly away and rest get quiet. But not for long.

They gather around the feeder and eat, then they all flock to the hedge and chatter about their day. (or the food, or whatever.) The hedge is so thick that you cannot see them, just the shaking of the little branches.

Then they fly back to the feeder and eat some more.

And last month we realized that the hedge was way too thick. So we did some major hackenabush.

Now you can see right through the hedge and see all the little birds.

And someone else can see into the hedge and spot the tasty little birds; for now we have a falcon watching our yard. A blur of motion is all you see as he swoops into the hedge and tries to snatch a tasty snack.

Wonder-Girl is not pleased! Despite the noise the little birds make, she does not want to see them eaten. We would rather the falcon eat the pigeons. Maybe the pigeons are too big? (Me, I don’t care what the falcon eats. Everything is fair game)

We hope that the falcon also tries to catch mice.

Now, since the hedge is open, the finches don’t hang around as much, but we know that as the hedge fills back in, the finches will be back.

So though we have destroyed the finches hiding place, we have created a feeding place for the falcon. I guess it balances out.

Who r u?

There is a way to stay in touch, in a roundabout way. You read a friends blog and leave a comment. They read what you say and leave a comment. It’s a way of communicating. And they also get to read the things that you forgot to tell them.

I like to leave comments. Sometimes I have something to say. Other times, I’ll leave a funny comment; just so they know I stopped by.

But that brings up a question. If a friend has the same blog in two places, and I write a comment on one; should make the same comment on the other? Or a different comment?

And as I write, I try to think of what others would say as they read this. Do they laugh?

Who knows.

And is anybody out there?

You can call me Po.

I was chatting on IM, with a co-worker the other day. I enjoy this because you learn more about them and they about you. It makes for a better work relationship and you make friends this way.

After a while, she said, ‘I like chatting with you. You’re nice, like my Grandpa.’

I am sure what you are thinking, no guy wants to be thought of as THAT old. But considering that I am over twice her age, it’s not so bad. (She had said that when she saw my picture, she realized that I was not old like her Grandpa, but more like her dad.)
When you think about it, it is actually a good thing. Since I do strive to be the Gentleman, this means that I strive not annoy young women. No one likes a dirty old man.
So if they see me as older, it puts a nice little distance between us. We can be friends with clears line that won’t get crossed. Then everyone can relax.

But I am not thrilled with being thought of as a ‘Grandpa’. Maybe older Uncle?
I’ll take Po, (Cebuano for ‘respected elder.’)

So yes, you can call me ‘Po’

Travalin Man

A week, north of Boston. Business trips can be tedious for some, but not for me. Besides the fact that I enjoy learning new things from people, I also get a chance teach people things.
Beyond that, there are the WF’s. No, I am not talking ‘What a Fox’. That’s a WaF. I am talking about Work Friends. (though I will admit, some of my WF’s are quite pulchritudinous.)
It makes a trip more enjoyable to be able to see friends. Some still work for the company, some have moved on and bettered themselves. Normally, I might not travel to these places and get to see my WF’s. But if I have to travel there on business, then what little time I get to spend with them is a bonus.

I go to work with my friends in my group, reestablish bonds. For the ones that have left, I have to arrange time.
I missed Skinner on this trip, perhaps next time, I can give her more advanced warning. Sill, I got to have lunch with DT. (The Daughter Twin)
I haven’t seen DT in a couple of years. She is still the fun young lady I have known all these years. But she has slimmed down and stayed slim. Plus she is using less makeup and her freckles show. (yes, I like freckles) She has grown up into an attractive young lady. As Wonder-Girl said, ‘your daughter is all grown up.’
Nice to know that she is happy too.

Shy-girl was there from Cebu. I got to work with her for two days before she flew back to Cebu. As a bonus, I took her out to dinner, just the two of us. Mostly as a thank you for all the hospitality that the Cebuanos showed me when I was there. Plus it was a good time to learn a little more about who she is.

And to gain another friend.

It was suggested that next year I should plan two trips to the East. And two trips to Cebu.

I’ll be a treat to see so many friends, so many times.

My Halloween joke

Mick Jagger buys an old estate just outside of London.
Soon after he moves in, he begins to hear strange noises at night. Besides the usual creaks and groans, he thinks he hears doors closing and footsteps. It seems to be a little noisier each night.
Halloween night he is awoken by this terrible noise from the kitchen. He runs downstairs and finds a ghost pulling pots and pans out of the cabinets and throwing them against the walls.
“Just what in the bloody hell are you doing.” Mick yells.
“This is my house!” The ghost screams. “You can’t have it! I’m going to keep this up until you leave!”
Mick throws back his head and laughs. The ghost just stares at him. Finally, Mick stops laughing, catches his breath and says,
“You know, you can’t always get what you haunt.”

Not my cup of tea

I don’t care for funerals. Not just because nothing can be said. Instead of listening to music, or hearing people singing, I would rather sit and talk to people. Reminisce.
Maybe it’s because I am not religious, I take no comfort from talk of the afterlife. After all, the person is gone, so what happens now to them affects me not.

So I help those left behind. Give them aid and comfort, for they are the ones I can help.

I am so glad that I won’t be there for my funeral

Winter is coming.

It was 64 degrees out, when I took Tommy for the five am walk.

There was an unsettling, warm dry wind this morning. Like the breath of a thousand-year-old mummy, when she whispers in your ear.

I don’t mind warm winds in the summer. I have gone for a 5am walk and it was 75 degrees.

And in the dark heart of winter, it’s always a cold wind.

But October is when there is a chill coming. Winter is just around the corner. I know this because it was 86 here yesterday, 84 today. Warm dry winds blow off the lands, sucking the last of the moisture from the brown, grass-covered hills. The end of the fire season and high winds whip over the hills.
We always get this mini heat wave in October. Right before the rain and cold of November descends.

But a warm dry wind blowing over me, at five am, is very unsettling.

Can you find me? Will you try?

Something Danger Girl wrote recently, a little quote about building walls just to see who really wants to scale the walls and be with you. It reminded me of this 30 year old cartoon.

(I seriously keep too much junk)

I live in a shell.
That inside a wall.
That is inside a fort.
That is inside a tunnel
That is under the sea
Where I am safe.
From you.
If you really loved me, you'd find me.

PS-oh, and in case your are wondering, it does not work!

Bastard!

So, at 3am, the Tommy dog began to bark. It barely registered and my sleepy mind was debating what to do when Wonder-Girl gave me a nudge. “Tommy’s barking.”
So I climbed out of bed and peered through the window blinds. No prowler in the backyard.
I meandered to the kitchen and looked out, no aliens on the front lawn. Tommy barked again.
Into the family room and Tommy is at the back door. He barks again. I look out into the backyard. No zombies. Tommy’s hackles are raised and he emits a low growl. I turn on the lights and notice a pair of beady eyes staring back at me from the lawn.
Damn, a raccoon! I know what Tommy is thinking, Intruder! But I don’t let Tommy out. I have heard stories that raccoons can be formidable opponents. And this one is about Tommy’s size.
I pet Tommy and calm him a little. When I look up, the raccoon is gone.
Most of the time, I never see what Tommy barks at. This time I saw the critter. We get squirrels all the time and cats. Sometimes an opossum.
Back to bed.

At 8am, I am my in my home office and working, when WG comes in all upset. ‘The fish are gone! All gone. Not a trace!”
“Damn, the bastard raccoon ate all the fish!” I go look at the little pond and there is no evidence of a disturbance. Just no fish.

Our son built the pond years ago and I helped him finish it. We had to change the water many times until the chemicals got leached out of the cement.
Some of the third dozen goldfish survived. Mostly. Over the next fifteen years, four fish made it. And they were pretty big, after fifteen years. One fat one was about six inches long! We cleaned the pond constantly. Added a filter a few years ago and a waterfall.
So we are pissed at the damn raccoon for eating our fish. I hope he gets a stomach ache!

Random thoughts on Maui

We got back home just in time to enjoy the first cold storm of the season. Not really a cold storm, but we were used to 85 plus on Maui. We kinda wished we were still there.
Maui was great, as usual. Even when it clouded up, it was still warm (well, hot and humid for me). Wonder-Girl sure loves the hot, humid weather. We did some sightseeing, including a tour of a pineapple plantation. We were the only people on the tour, so the guide gave us twelve pineapples! Not those green things you get here on the mainland, but yellow, ripe, sweet fruit. We ended up giving away five of them. One can only eat so much each day.
Most days, we relaxed by the pool and read. The ocean was right there, so I did get some snorkeling in. Saw a school of five unicorn fish, each as long as my forearm and hand. It was fun swimming slowly over them and watching them feed on the coral. (Skinner would so not like swimming with such big fish.)
Kannapali beach is on the leeward side, so we didn’t get much rain, despite it being the rainy season.
Did you know that botanists love getting those flower necklaces? That way they can get the lei of the land.
We also found out that some of the oldest parts of the island chain(like Midway Island) are just coral atolls. You see, once the land wears away, there is nothing at’oll left.
(hey, this is my blog and I’ll use all the puns I want!)

Only a week there seems not enough, but if we see all the sights, then there are fewer reasons to go. Next time, we’ll spend some time on other islands.

I did notice some odd things. Like most of the people working in the stores and restaurants were white folk. I expected a lot more Hawaiians. I have no idea why, since I don’t know the culture there. I know some Hawaiians resent the houlies and I am not surprised. (Hmmm…I could add a chapter about this to ‘Cross Country’. I’ll ponder that some more.)
Since it is an island nation, I am sure that they don’t have the same illegal immigration problems. No one can swim there from neighboring countries. I think this affects the price of their crops. Everything is expensive there and without cheap labor to work in the fields, other countries can produce food cheaper. That may be part of the reason that they have fewer pineapple plantations now. It would be nice to chat with some of the people there and find out how the labor is classified.
Everywhere, there are cultural differences and it is interesting to explore them.
Though I am sure that a lot of houlies don’t care.

Storytime - Inky, Sucky

Inky.
Sometimes, I am partway through a story and I realize that before I can go any farther, I had better figure out the rules. Why does he do what he does, and who the hell Sucky is.
Because later on in the story, I might fold her in as a subplot, or maybe just a continuation of the story.

So I sat down and wrote how Inky and Sucky met. A piece of the original story was posted a while ago here.
I hope you can figure out what they are by the clues.
GW

--

Inky, Sucky
By G.W. Hogg
©9-15-06

The grocery store was not very busy when I stopped off to buy something for dinner. I wasn’t surprised. The moms had been there earlier and now they were back home busy cooking dinner for their husbands and family. I’ve always had a hard time thinking what to make for dinner. Many nights I decided as I drove home, if not as I perused the aisles in the store.
It was Friday, the repair job on the linotype had taken a lot less time than was expected and I was able to quit early today. I felt like something easy, but tasty. I looked over the meats in the butcher counter and the cube steak looked good. Maybe Swiss Steak tonight? I could make several and then I would have leftovers. They were always good.
“How’s the cube steak, Fred?” I asked the old guy behind the counter.
“In two days ago. The Missus cooked some up last night, quite tasty.”
“Okay, I’ll take four pounds.”
“Company?”
“Naw, just figured I’d cook up a mess. That way I won’t have to cook for a while.”
“Smart thinking. Still, a man like you should have a wife at home. How long has it been, three years?”
“Three and a half.”
“She was a good woman. Shame to have been taken so young.”
“Yes, it was.”
He weighed out the meat and then wrapped it up in the white paper. After marking the price with a grease pencil, he looked up. “Anything else?”
“Yes, I’ll take two of the thick pork chops and a chicken.”
“Okay, but you should buy the chicken on Tuesday. I’ll have fresh ones in then.”
”Okay. Thanks.”
He weighed and wrapped up the chops. “There you are.” He said as he passed the wrapped meats over the high counter.
“Thanks, Fred.”
“You’re welcome Mr. Scott.”

I took my time selecting the potatoes and vegetables. Meat, starch, and vegetable. At least the minimum. I had seen guys who didn’t take care of themselves. Always eat right; not that I really ever had to worry. A few more items and I had everything for tonight’s dinner.

As I rolled my cart up to the checkout line, I saw that the new girl was running the register. I had seen her once or twice in the store. Nice looking young gal, maybe nineteen. Long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. No makeup, but she didn’t need any. Pretty face with full lips. Black skirt, white shirt, and a thin black tie. Her brown smock was buttoned up, but you could still tell where the curves were. Kinda of a funny butt, still, nice looking. I rolled up and smiled at her. She looked up, our eyes met and she smiled at me.
I felt the wave of desire crashed over me. The thoughts of cupping those young breasts in my hands, my hands on her slim waist, the moist, musky smell of her curly black hair, her nails digging into my back as she cried out.
And I let it all flow away, like water off a ducks back. I knew who she was now.
I kept looking up at her, as I wrote out the check. She saw me glancing up at her constantly, as she punched in the amounts and rang up my purchases. Yes, let her think it has affected me. She should have know better than to cast one on a regular customer. Or maybe she was just playing.
“That will be eighteen forty-nine.” She said as she turned to me. The smile on her face was a little different now, more predatory.
I finished writing the amount and handed her the check. As she reached for it, I extended one finger so I almost touched her. I was rewarded with a huge blue spark that leapt off my finger and into her hand. There was a satisfying ‘crack’!
“Son of a Bitch!” She exclaimed, then dropped the check as her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, I am terribly sorry Mister! I didn’t mean to say that!”
“It’s okay.” I said as she bent down to pick up the check.
“It’s not okay. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I just didn’t expect that!”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, but it was a fun way to say hello.”
“You’re mean.” And she smiled at me. It was a totally different smile. More like a starving person sitting down to a huge meal of steak and potatoes. There was now lust in her eyes and a look of anticipation.
“Not mean. Maybe a brat?”
“Yes, a brat for sure.” She looked at the check, studying the address. When she looked up at me, her eyes glance at the ring on my left hand. Her look changed. “Married?”
“Widower”
“Oh, I am sorry.” But she looked relieved.
“Thanks. It was a while ago.”
“But you still wear your ring.”
“It comforts me.”
She started bagging the groceries. “It’s good you know how to cook.”
“I have always liked to be self sufficient.”
“Good for you.’ She placed the three bags into the cart. “Do you need carry out service? I can call the bag boy.”
“It’s okay. Billy is busy stacking the shelves.”
“Okay, well enjoy your dinner. And I’ll be seeing you.”
“Thanks…” I stared a little too long at the nametag on her smock. “Cynthia.”

On the drive home, I tried to remember the last time I had met another. Sometime before the last war. No, it was the war before that. A long time ago. I didn’t dwell upon it as I pulled the Bel Air into the driveway of my old Victorian.

If someone had been walking down the dark street at eleven, and if they had turned to look at the old Berkeley Victorian, they might have seen a white mist flowing across the front lawn and down the driveway. If they had watched it, they would not have believed their eyes. The white mist coalesced at the rose bush there, then slowly flowed up the trellis. It paused by the second story window for a moment, then flowed inside.

The sound of the window unlocking woke me. The cool damp air flowing over my naked skin brought me fully awake. I sat up and slid my legs over so I faced the window. A white mist flowed over the windowsill into a small puddle on the floor. As I watched, the mist rose up into the diaphanous form of a woman, slowly undressing.
And suddenly, she was standing there. The long dark brown hair cascaded to her shoulders. The full lips smiled with ravenous anticipation. The thin film of perspiration made her clear white skin glistened in the moonlight. My eyes traveled down to her firm, well rounded breasts. The hard, slightly upturned nipples, pointed over my head. A slim waist and flat stomach drew my eyes down to the generous curve of her hips. The black triangular patch of hair was like a road sign, guiding me down the highway. Firm, muscular thighs sloped down to slim calves and well turned ankles. I smiled back at her with equal anticipation.
I stood and let her look me over. She seemed pleased.

“It took you long enough to get here.”
“Yours is not an easy place to find. Did you have to lock the window?”
“I just wanted to see how good you were.”
“Oh, I’m good.”
I looked her up and down again and smiled. “I can see that.”
She took a tentative step towards me and I did the same. A blue spark coalesced on her shoulder, rolled down her arm and arced across the five feet between us. It stung a little where it hit my shoulder. We took two more steps towards each other and more sparks erupted from our skin and arced between us. Quickly, we reached out and grabbed each others hands. The electricity sparked and cracked along our hands. We stared into each others eyes, feeling the energy surge between us.
“I will take nothing from you, only give.” She recited.
“And I will take nothing from you, only give.” I recited back to her.
The oath and spell were said and the sparks of energy between us slowly died.
She tightened her grip on my hands and suddenly pushed down. My arms didn’t move. She pushed harder with a strength that would have forced a man to his knees.
I smiled and lifted my arms. Slowly I drew her arms up over her head, she fought back but was unable to stop me. I raised my arms further, until her toes were dangling above the floor.
“You’re a lot older and stronger than I thought.”
I just smiled and took a few steps towards the wall. I stopped when she was pinned between me and the wall. And I kissed her, long and deeply. She responded for a moment, then turned her head to the side.
“I have waited forty years for this and I am not going to play any games!” She hissed. Then she pulled her legs up, wrapping them around me. I pulled back a little to give her some room, she squirmed a little to align us, then her strong thighs pulled us together, impaling her against the wall.


She rolled off of me and lay next to me, panting. When she finally caught her breath she turned and looked at the broken clock on the floor. “I think it’s Monday morning. I have to be at work at ten. Do you know what time it is?”
“About five. I think I heard the milk truck.”
“Do we have time for breakfast?”
I leaned over and kissed her nipple.
“No, not that! Eggs, bacon, hash browns.”
“I can do that.”
“Good. I am starved!” She turned over to face me and wrapped her small hands around me. “I was so afraid you might be small. But goodness! I’ll be walking bowlegged for a week!” Then she kissed me hard on the mouth. “Not that I’m complaining.”
She stood up and walked off the bed. Then she turned and surveyed the damage. The headboard was leaning against the wall, but intact. Deep grooves, like claw marks, crisscrossed it. The bed was on the floor, it sheets torn, burned and bloody; the footboard was snapped in two.
“Can I use the downstairs shower?”
“Sure, mind the broken glass.”
She grinned, picked up her clothes that were strewn about the room and walked bowlegged out the door.

I got up carefully, trying to avoid the broken glass. I wasn’t sure how and when the mirror got broken, but we did spend two hours picking glass out of each other. I glanced down at where a large piece had sliced a three inch gash in my arm. It was healing nicely.

I showered quickly and carefully shaved the three days grown of beard off my face. A least I was able to find my shaving brush and soap.
I put a robe on and picked out some clothes to wear.

As I made my way downstairs I cataloged the damage. Some holes in the walls, a broken chair. I’d need new sheets and pillows for the guest bedroom. I was glad the windows were closed and the shades drawn.
Downstairs wasn’t too bad. I’d have to put the furniture back in place. Hopefully, I could repair the dining room table. It looked funny on the floor, with its four legs splayed out.
At least we had not spent too much time in the kitchen. The little silver and grey breakfast table was intact, as were the chairs.
I filled the percolator and plugged it in. I was really going to need my coffee today. I dug out my two large cast iron frying pans and set them on the stove. The center griddle was just too messy for bacon. It took me a few minutes to find the grater attachment for the Mixmaster. Nancy had been so thrilled when I bought it for her.
Once it was put together, it only took a few minutes to grate the four potatoes. I set them aside and fired up the two pans. Soon the pound of bacon was sizzling and snapping in the pans.
While that cooked, I pulled the ironing board out of the wall and set up the iron. Get the toaster set up. Bread, butter, plates napkins. Then it was time to get the eggs and hash browns going.
The hash browns filled the center griddle and I was liberal with the bacon grease. The dozen eggs filed the two pans and I was hard pressed to keep them from sticking together.

She came into the kitchen and saw that I had everything under control. So she plugged in the iron and started ironing my clothes. “Over easy, if you can do it.” Was all she said.
The second batch of toast popped up. She was finished with the ironing, so she took over the buttering. Then she set the table as I gingerly served the eggs. I was glad I had grabbed the big plates. Six eggs apiece, a pile of hash browns and a few strips of bacon. There was barely enough room for the toast. I placed the dishes on the table just as she sat down. The rest of the bacon I dumped on the plate with the toast.
She poured the coffee then surveyed the repast. “You put together a mean breakfast Cerric.”
“Thanks for your help Cindy”
“You’re welcome.” And we dug into our breakfast.

An hour later, we had the kitchen all cleaned up and were drinking the last of the coffee. “I hate to end this weekend, but I have to get to work soon.”
“And I have to get going too.” She stood up and came over to me. I rose to meet her.
“It’s been a great weekend!” And she folded herself into my embrace.
“I’ve enjoyed it too.” She said as she held me.
“Do you plan to be around for a while?”
“Another twenty years.”
“Good. I just moved here. I am glad I found you so soon. Like said, it’s been a while.”
“I’ll be here if you need me.”
“I’d like that. Not too often.”
“No, too often can spoil the fun.”
We turned and walked to the door. As I opened it, she pulled me too her and gave me a long, lingering kiss. “Keep your window unlocked Inky.”
“Don’t be a stranger Sucky.”

And she turned and I watched her walk slowly to the sidewalk. She turned, waved at me, then continued down the street.

Trains

Sometimes, I feel like I am going down the train tracks. I can go a little faster, or a little slower; but down the tracks I go.
But faster or slower, the course is set. I don’t have to decide where to go, for I can’t change it.

Where would I go if I could change my course? Probably down the tracks.

PC

Political Correctness – The inability to call a spade a spade.

I wonder how many people out there don’t even understand that?

Winter is not far away

Well, as the man said when his girlfriends bikini strap broke.
‘There’s a little nip in the air.’


But there is a little chill in the air. Summer will be over soon.
A little storm blew through today, dropped the temp twenty degrees from what they were yesterday.

Hoy Ganda!

1,000 Ganda points for those who remembered!
Alas, no Ganda points for those who forgot.

Nobody has ever really explained the game to me, all these Pogi and Ganda points.
(For you Americans, it’s fun game where you give a person ‘Pretty points’ or ‘Handsome Points’ for doing something nice.)

Of course I have to ask the question, what happens if you give someone an ‘Ugly Point’? :-)
I’ll have to ask someone the correct Cebuano word for Ugly. There may be several. I’ll bet it is like ‘Feo’. Still, I have to be careful. I just want a simple ugly, not a ‘Butt Ugly!’

I can hear Willow now, as she pouts from a lack of Ganda points, “Give me Ganda points, or not. I am still ninot!”

And yes my Night Creatures who read this, I fully expect corrections!

You’re not the one for me

I remember the conversation. There were a bunch of us sitting around the table; laughing, eating, talking. I don’t recall how the conversation shifted, but Sundae said, “And then my boy friend said I was too fat.”
In the ensuing silence, all I could say was, “And he is still alive?”
There was some laughter around the table and I forget who said what next. But I know what I should have said. Not some funny line, but what I felt like saying.
“Then he is not your boy friend.”

For he really has no business being around her. He should like her for who she is and what she looks like. Period! And Sundae is a far cry from one of the Gorgon sisters. She is good looking, a great, fun smile, smart and yes, she has a nice figure.
Okay, so it’s not as good as WG’s; but then I know how lucky I am!
So, since Sundae can attract a good guy, she shouldn’t waste her time with someone who doesn’t like the way she looks.

I know, I know, perhaps I am a little ‘bolero’ and I have been accused of that. But come on! It’s not as if I am trying to seduce any of my female friends. I am trying to be nice and complimentary. There is no harm in being truthful and nice.

And maybe I don’t know enough about Sundae and her man.

But I think she needs to say-
“You’re not the one for me.”

Something, something older

All is right with the world again. WG came home Friday to her Lonely Boys and they showered her with love and affection. Of course she was glad to see us, and not just because the nights are starting to get a little cold here and I do make a handy bed warmer!
But I digress.
Saturday was catch up on all the household chores that got put off. But we got the yard cleaned up and the house all set.
YS came over in the afternoon to have her car window fixed. Now her car is a 1990 Honda hatchback and the passenger window won’t stay up. I fixed it once, but when her car was stolen(we still don’t know why someone would take a 16 year old car!) someone tried to roll the window down and it broke again.
Now you might call us cheap, but who really wants to spend hundreds of dollars to fix a window that nobody uses? Just make it stay up and everyone is happy.
So we pulled off the duct-tape that was holding it in place and reset the plastic guides. Now to make the repair permanent, a few blocks of wood, strategically placed inside the door, a couple of screw and ‘Bob’s your Uncle’; the window will never move again!
Fix her window wipers, a touch of black paint on the wiper arms solves the glare problem and YS is good to go.
And in the process of chatting with her, I told her about some things we wanted to get ride of.
She was happy to take the 1950 Sunbeam Mixmaster (that I overhauled). I am glad that she can use it. The 1920’s wooden carpet sweeper, she’ll drop that off at our Mom’s. Mom will like it. She can clean her carpets silently.

The day was ending and WG suggested pizza for dinner.

A nice day and a lot was accomplished. I wish all Saturdays were so nice and easy.

Haunted

There is the problem. I see a piece of a story, hear the conversation in my head.
I don’t know where the story starts, I don’t know where it goes.

Like when I could see the Warthog pulling the Ruler out of his belt and smacking Willow on the wrist.
It took me month’s to work to the beginning and to the end. And yet, I never reached either.

So when she said, ‘past or future, I never look back to the past; only to the future.’ And then she said, that somewhere out there, was a nice Pastor she would marry.
Yes I made the pun about Pastor future.

And I could see him, a good looking man, hiding around the corner from her, as she walks down the street. But it isn’t she that he fears, it is that he is meant for her.
For he has always told his flock, that they can do whatever they want. He has told the women that they are the Mistress of their destiny. They should strive to be whatever they want and that nothing stands in their way.
And what frightens him is finding out that it isn’t true. For he knows now that he is destined to meet her, to fall in love with her. And she will fall in love with him. And will be married. They will have a life of joys and sorrows, but it will be a good life.
And he turns and runs down the street, still unwilling to face his future. Still unable to come to grips with the fact that destiny is his mistress.

And that is the image in my mind, haunting me. For as long as it is in my mind, I’ll think of how the story starts, and how it ends. And maybe I’ll actually reach both ends and can write it down.
Or maybe, if I am in just the right mood, and if my muse is looking over my shoulder; I’ll just sit down and write the story. It will flow out of me until I reach the end.

Until I get it down on paper, I’ll see his frightened face.

Post script-
So I lied, I know how the story ends. It ends with a terrible pun, based on; ‘I’ve grown accustomed to your face.’ And that might ruin the story.

Too many of me

I thought it might be fun to have a different Blog/site for each of my personalities, but alas, it is just too much work.
It would make it hard to keep track of who I am at each place.

Though I do like the idea of the 'Bolero in the corner.' Yes I know, I have not written about that incedent yet. I will.

GW

Strange Email

I came accross this in my archives today-I knew I saved it somewhere.
I received this email back in '97. I always thought it was strange. Remember that back then, it was quite hard to find someone out there. The internet didn't really exist.

I have always wondered why she was looking for this guy and what happened in 1974?
Does he know where the body is buried?
Is she looking for child support?
Or was it just some sweet summer romance?

Curious
==
From: Longh96783@aol.com
Date: Thu, 13 Mar 1997 11:52:30 -0500 (EST)
To: DC98290@aol.com
cc: dc******@mail.paulbunyan.net, d*******@visuallink.com,
LASDC@ccmail.ceco.com, C******@math.ufl.edu,
dac@.com, d*******@eazy.net,
d*****.C******@mbox300.swipnet.se, zugzwang@grove.ufl.edu
Subject: Lost Friend

Did you meet 2 girls in 1974 in a campground in the Shenandoah Mountains of
Virginia? You were with a friend of yours. You lived in Long Island, N.Y.
at the time with your parents? If this is you----please email me back.

If not----please respond "no" so I won't ask you again.

I'm looking for D***** C****** and Bill Rivers.

Thank you, sorry if it was a bother.
==

Los Lonely Boys

All is quiet tonight. The video is back in it’s case. The Tommy dog is quietly watching the back door and I am checking my email.
Quite quiet.

Wonder Girl is off taking care of her Aunt and will be away for five days. Just across the bay, an hour away.
Aunt had a little surgery last week. Something like the repair of a hernia. Not major. Aunt’s son only stayed a few days before the surgery and few days after Aunt got home from the hospital. ‘No where near long enough,’ says WG. ‘I’ll go take care of her for a few days. I’m sure she needs it.’
Aunt is eighty-five, in good health and very independent. Rarely complains, so she probably would not ask for help and WG knows this. So off she goes.

And the boys are left at home. I understand, Tommy does not. Oh, he will pout a little and he will snub WG when she returns. How dare she leave him!
It’s bad enough that she goes next door to feed the cats. Tommy knows where she has been, he can smell cats on her!
So now it is up to me to feed the neighbors cats twice a day. Four cats that, twice a day, are very happy to see me. They know how Tommy feels, for they have been left to fend for themselves! They don’t get a lot of love from me. Just a little petting and some scratches under the chin. I really don’t need my allergies to kick in; especially from four cats!
So no cats on laps, or shoulders.

Tommy sniffs me suspiciously when I return.

So it was ‘V’ tonight, then a Zombie movie, and 2 sc-fi’s. Flicks that WG rally does not care for. A good time for me to catch up, I am too far behind. Half the time, I forget what videos I wanted to see.

It’s almost bed time. I’ll take the dog out for one last yard patrol.
Then…yawn…to bed.

Worlds within Worlds

It was the Silver Surfer who first said it, as he gazed out over the city. “For truly, there are worlds within worlds.”

Amusing about how deep he was looking. For all one has to do is to step outside your front door, maybe chat with a friend on IM, look at the newspaper; to find out that there are so many worlds out there.
Each person lives in their world and at the same time, in other’s worlds. And people get together and form their own worlds, societies. We are ignorant of them until we stumble across them. But as we watch, we find that there are people thoroughly sucked into their worlds.
Maybe it’s the world of people who like lots of tattoos, perhaps they are Monopoly fanatics, NASCAR groupies. So many.

And there is poor Willow. Not only does she play online in Worlds of Warcraft, but then at times, plays in the World of Warthog.

And in my world, the rules change as I need them.

And all it takes sometimes, is for me to get an image, which I make into a scene, and then weave a small story around it.

So we shall leave the world of Fantail, Suave, Pip, Varnish, Wonder Girl, Filet, Yen-up and all the rest; and see what happens when the Warcraft, the Willow and the Warthog’s worlds mix.
=======

A Strange Tail
By G.W Hogg
©4-22-2006

For truly, there are worlds within worlds.
S.Surfer

The band was almost to the end of the small valley, when a group of Goblins stepped out of the bushes. The two groups paused and looked each other over. Twelve Goblins stared at the seven humans.
“Who dares our valley?” The Goblin leader called out.
Willow stepped forward. “The Amber Band does.” She said as she planted her feet and stared at the diminutive creature.
“Who is this youth before us, not even old enough to sprout a beard!” He took a second look. “Why this thin sapling is just a mere girl!” He laughed, as did the rest of the Goblins.
Nothing pissed off young Willow more than someone making fun of her size, much less her age. In one smooth motion she drew her rapier and lunged forward, the thin blade piercing his throat. The Goblin leader’s laugher died to a gurgle, as his throat filled with blood. He looked shocked for a second, then death darkened his eyes and he collapsed.
The rest of the Goblins screamed in anger and reached for their weapons, but the Amber Band was already on them and their end came quickly.

Willow bent down and wiped the blood off her rapier with the dead Goblin’s cloak, then sheathed it.
Her man walked up to her and lightly touched her on the shoulder. “It always amazes me how you handle your sword. It’s as if it is an extension of your arm.”
She smiled up at him, pleased at his praise. “A wonderful man suggested it to me once and helped train me on it.”
He loved to see her smile like that. “A great swordsman?”
“Good, but a better teacher.”
Her man turned to the rest of the band. “Search for any booty, then drag the carcasses into the bushes. We have a lot of ground to cover if we are to reach the village before nightfall.” He turned back and watched Willow as she walked over to the knapsack the Goblin leader had dropped near the bushes. He marveled at the fluid motion of her slim, lithe figure. Such a pretty young woman, and so deadly. As graceful when she dances with him, as when she dances with a sword.

The rest of the men gathered around him and they waited for Willow to finish. Though he was the leader of the group, they all looked to Willow for her knowledge.

“Just a few coppers and this odd knife.” And she held up a small dagger in a simple sheath. “Maybe enough for a tankard of ale. A small Tankard.” And the men laughed.
“Anything special about?”
“I doubt it.”
“Never hurts to try, Willow.”
“I guess you’re right.” She unsheathed the dagger, revealing a sharp, but badly nicked blade. She held the dagger in her left hand and deftly wove a small detection spell around the dagger. “Harrumph! Not even a glow. Oh well.” And she sheathed the dagger and put it in her pack.
“Let’s move boys, we’re burning daylight.”

They set off into the bushes and the valley floor began to rise. Soon they were into a stand of trees and the cool shade made their trek easier.
When they crested the ridge, they could not see into the next valley. But everyone smelled the wood smoke, so they knew they were on the right track. The trees began to thin, as the walked down the gentle slope. Just as it leveled off, they emerged from the trees and low bushes into a well plowed field. In the distance ahead, they could see the village, surrounded by a stockade. The south gate was open and there appeared to be a large man leaning against the side of the opening.

“Okay boys.” Willow said. “Looks like we’ll get a good meal tonight.”
“Just one guard?” Someone said behind her.
“And he looks, odd”
“We’ll know soon enough.” And they all began walking to the dirt path next to the field. The figure in the door didn’t move.

When they had covered half the distance, Willow held up her hand to halt them. “Something’s not right.” She had felt a subtle change, as if they had passed from one world into another. She backed up a few paces and could feel a difference. “Yes. There is an odd spell around this place. She closed her eyes and spread out her hands. Yes, there was a spell at work here, but she could not detect its purpose. She frowned as she concentrated.
“What is it, my love?”
“I cannot tell, but we just crossed a line of sorts.”
“A protection spell?”
“No, I know those. No, it’s there, but I cannot tell its purpose.”
Her man shrugged off his pack and retrieved his small telescope. He surveyed the landscape. “Everything looks normal.” He said, then looked towards the village. “What manner of fell creature is that!” He exclaimed as he took the scope from his eyes and passed it to Willow.
She look through the tube and studied the creature leaning against the stockade opening. He was huge and looked like a man. But there was an oversized head on top of his massive shoulders. That his head was covered with brown-gray hair was not unusual. It was the four tusks that came out of his elongated mouth. He was, ugly was the only word. Big eyes and big ears sprouting out of the side of his head. And a laughably small tall stuck out from the back of his trousers.
“I know not what kind of creature this is, but we shall know soon enough. Let move.”

When they were within fifty paces of the stockade opening, the creature straightened and moved to the center of the opening.
“Shall I talk to him, Willow?”
“No, there is something oddly familiar about this ugly creature. Let me approach him and talk to him. I am less threatening, though I don’t feel that much can threaten him.”
Her man chuckled. “Less threatening, amusing. Well, I have always trusted your judgment.”

Willow dropped her pack and approached the huge creature. Though she was slim, she was tall; but the creature’s shoulders were well above her head. His bulk seemed to fill the doorway and he looked completely at ease at her approach. He was wearing simple, short brown trousers and a tunic. He appeared to carry no weapons, except what looked like a short, flat piece of wood thrust casually in his wide leather belt. It looked as if there might be writing on the flat stick.
The closer she got, the more familiar he seemed. Well, this was a strange land and many familiar things looked different here.

She stopped ten feet from him and waited. He looked her over several times and then his face split into a huge, tooth-filled grin.
“Hail and well met, young Willow.”
“You know me?”
“As you knew me.”
“I have never seen you before.”
“Ah, despite your progress youngster, you still have much to learn. Perhaps, with time.”
Willow bristled at being called young. “Youngster! I’ll have you know…”
“I know.” He said, stopping her in mid sentence. “I have been waiting days for your arrival. I thought you would have made better time. But perhaps you don’t know where you are really going?”
This infuriated her. Question her experience, then mock her skills! She took a few steps forward, muttering a spell under her breath, her hands weaving the intricate patterns that would teach this creature a lesson!
In one smooth motion, the creature pulled the flat stick from his belt, took two giant strides towards her and brought it down hard on the knuckles of her left hand.
She stood there, stunned, the spell forgotten, her left hand smarting painfully.
The creature took a step back and grinned. “It’s thumb to index finger, then to ring finger. Not ring, then index.” And he laughed. “But you always had trouble with that spell.”
She knew this creature now! She remembered the smarting pain of the strange flat stick, the lines on it and the odd runes. And his laugh confirmed it.
“Warty!” She exclaimed and then ran to his arms that now opened.
His huge arms wrapped around her and they hugged.

When he finally released her, he held her at arms length and looked her over. “Ah Willow, you are grown up now, but I could not resists teasing you.”
“I did not recognize you!”
“In this land, I appear very different.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps because I am different things to different people.”
“But still a warthog, underneath?” And she smiled at him.
He smiled back. It was like an older Uncle, smiling at his niece.
“What brings you to my little village?”
“There is a castle, a some leagues to the North. We have a mission to accomplish there.”
“I know the place. Good and evil avoid it.”
“So we have heard. But there is an item we are looking for.”
“For good, or evil?”
“Both.”
“Interesting. You side with The Horde.”
“It is the side my Man is aligned with.”
“And you? I once said you were an angel, but with a smudge. Perhaps now you are more smudge, than Angel?”
“Perhaps.”
“ I could never guide your destiny, only provide you with skills.”
“I know. But you did well.”
“That I can see. You are healthy and unscarred.”
“And I have a band.”
“That follows your man, but looks to you for guidance?”
“Yes.”
“You have done well. Now, what do you need from my small village?”
“Your village?”
“They look to me for guidance.”
“I see. Well, we need food for our bellies and for the rest of our trip. A good nights sleep would do us well.”
“That can be provided. If you travel up the south road here, you will find the village square. On the left will be stores that sell provisions. The Inn on the left is simple, but good. The Inn on the right side has more luxuries, but at a greater cost.”
“Thank you.”
“And I need to thank you for dispatching the Goblins to the south. They have been a nuisance for some time now. Mention my name at the Inn and you will be taken care of.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Yes. Keep you affiliations to yourselves. The villagers don’t care much for outsiders, much less the Horde.”
“I will have my band keep to themselves.”
“And make sure they behave!” And his hand touched the wand in his belt.
“You have my word, my friend, we will all be on our best behavior.”
“As I expect from any group that follows you.”
She smiled.
He always like that smile on her. “Now I have business to attend to. I will meet you at the North gate at sunrise and see you off. And perhaps with a few items that may assist you on your quest.”
She turned and waved to her band and they started forward. When she turned back, her friend had vanished.


It was just past sunrise when her band arrived at the North gate. They were well rested and their bellies were full for the first time in a month. The Warthog was there waiting, a big smile on his huge face.
“Good morning.” He called out.
“And a good morning to you my friend.” Said Willow. As she and her band formed up in front of him.
“Your destination is but three days march up that valley.” And he pointed to the North East. “There should be little trouble with any creatures in the forest.”
“And the weather?”
“It will hold for the next week. Plenty of time for you to finish your quest and return here.”
“We had not planned that far.”
“It will be best for you all to return here. There are things in the castle that may follow you, unseen. I can be of assistance.”
“No one mentioned that last night and we heard many stories.”
“Like I said, good and evil avoid the castle. There is good reason for that.”
“I will follow your council.”
“Then it is time for me to speed you on your way.”
“You would not consider accompanying us at least part of the way?”
“I would enjoy your company, young Willow. And I can imagine your band is full of interesting stories. But alas, my place is here; and you have all the skills you need.”
She smiled and walked up to him and gave him a huge hug, which he returned. She looked up into his huge eyes. “Thank you my friend, for your help.”
“You are most welcome. You and your band are always welcome here.”
“Then we are on our way.”
“Good luck, all of you. Oh, and Willow; leave the goblin’s dagger in the castle. It came from there a century ago. It’s return may help you.”
“Again, my thanks for your advice my friend.” Then she turned to her band.” Come on boys, were burning daylight here!”

The warthog watched them until they were out of sight. He would see them again, in six and a half days. But he feared the band would be a few men short. At least Willow would return. It saddened his heart, that she was aligned with the darker forces. But he knew also, that the light in her soul was still there, only obscured.
G.W. Hogg

Don’t open that door Mcgee!

So, Older Brother came out with his family for a visit. It’s always nice to see them.
One of the things we had talked about was Dad’s storage room and the need for a cleaning.
Dad has been buying, selling and collecting old toys for at least a decade now. One of the odd effects of Ebay, is that since people sell more stuff online, there are fewer and fewer toy shows. Less gets sold, more accumulates.
And now we have a ten by ten room, piled high with boxes of things, model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, shelves line the walls with many strange and wonderful things piled haphazardly on them. You can barely open the door and squeeze down the narrow corridor of paraphernalia to the computer at the other end of the room. There is barely room to sit and work on the computer.

Stuff accumulates on top of stuff until what is at the bottom may be lost to this world and squeezed into another dimension.

And I had suggested to OB, that we attempt some organization. For dad and step-mom are overwhelmed by the mess. What they need are some disinterested people to plow through the drifts of clutter.

It’s a battle, but we are not distracted by the colored metal toy cars from 1940, the balsa wood models from the 50’s or the painted lead soldiers.
At first there is barely room for the two of us, then a box of garbage goes out, four bags of old books go out. Soon we can move. Now we actually have places where we can set down our cups!

SM keeps the coffee pot going.
Three hours in and we stop for a quick lunch and then back into the trenches. I repack two shelves and clear a space around the boxes that are piled up to my chin. Shift and restack, I gain six square feet!
We are vicious in our destruction, we toss out copies of DOS 5.0 and Windows 95 disks. Old magazines from 1992 go into the recycle bin.

We have made great progress and begin to wind down. Our dad comes in to help a little, but he is to easily sidetracked by discoveries. OB and I quickly categorize and place in boxes.

OB stands and surveys the six by six area of empty space in the middle of the room. He turns and looks at the untouched pile of boxes by the door. As he looks up at the top of the boxes, he turns a little pale. “There is a door behind these boxes!”
“And a closet stuff with God knows what, behind the door!”
“You’re kidding!”
“Don’t open that door, McGee!”
Both my dad and OB chuckle at the phrase, as does SM in the other room. OB’s wife and daughter don’t understand (as do any of you if you are under 60)

“We won’t get o the closet today. That will be for another day.”
My brother sighs in relief.

The shop-vac is brought in and it sucks up all the little bits of stuff that have fallen to the floor and into the cracks between boxes, under shelves and behind the computer desk.. Bags of garbage are carried out until the huge garbage can filled. The paper recycling bin is full also.
Shelves are dusted and displayed toys are boxed.
We are done. Dad and SM cannot believe the room they now have. I sit at the computer and have plenty of elbow room.
They are flabbergasted and you can see the joy in their eyes.

“There are three boxes of tax and business record that you need to go through. But that is for a later day.”
“But now we have room to do it!” says SM. “Thank you. Thank you!”
They must have thanked us a dozen more times as we finished up and straightened a few more things. Then it was time to go home.

Epilog
I stopped by a week later to hook up a new LCD monitor and drop off some pics for SS.
They had cleaned out two boxes of business records and some of the cabinets had been attacked. One was now empty and the other was neat and organized.
They just needed a little push and some room to work in.

Does anyone want to buy a Spitfire model, all assembled and ready to fly? It has a four foot wingspan and it must take a huge engine.

As naked as I can get.

Well, tomorrow it is work again.
It’s been nice to have a week off. I didn’t get a lot done in the last few days, but with the heat wave, you really want to do as little as possible.
I did get the headboard for the spare room done. I’ll post a pic once it is painted. This will take about a week. With this heat, you can’t paint after 9am. It’s so hot that the paint starts to dry as you apply it!

The always say, ‘it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.’
Liars
Once things get above 100, it’s hot. Above 110, it’s the freakin’ heat!
(yes, the 40% humidity does make it a little stickier)

So if you have to go outside, you wear as little as possible and you get back inside as soon as possible!

So if I can get away with it, I don’t wear a hat and I don’t care what my hair looks like.
Flip-flops, if I have to wear shoes.
And if the neighbors see me working in the garage without a shirt on, well too bad.

Hey, it’s only supposed to get up to only 106 tomorrow! I might even wear a shirt!

Who will guard the guardian?

Or watch the Watcher?

The moment you even think of opening the cupboard where the peanut butter is kept.
There he is.

Open the package of cheese, or salami.
There he is.

He loves to watch me chop nuts.
Watch WG doing anything in the kitchen.

Because he has a job to do, to protect the floor. Keep it clean.

And maybe to catch bits of cheese or salami, as they fly through the air passed him.
Just to keep them from landing on the floor.

For his job is to guard the floor and protect it from falling snacks!

A day at the beach

Tuesday, we packed a picnic lunch and drove over to Stinson Beach. It’s a nice beach and we hadn't been there in a few years.
So we found a nice spot and set up lunch. We had canned, smoked oysters and brie cheese on crackers. Some whipped cream and strawberries. And of course, a little bottle of champagne.
We strolled up and down the beach and Wonder Girl looked for interesting rocks and shells. The weather was perfect. No fog, warm, with just a nice breeze.
We sat and talked, watched the people walking by and walked up and down the beach some more. Sometimes, the small waves would wash around our feet as we walked. The cold water felt good.


Then we went into the little town (population 476). We looked at the little shops and then sat down in a small restaurant and had a light supper. Wonder-Girl had her favorite, Fish & Chips. I had a simple burger.

It was only an hours drive home, traffic was very light. When we got home, our friend had fed Tommy(like we asked her to) But she also left a trail of rose petals from our front door to the bedroom, a happy anniversary card, and a bottle of champagne chilling in the refrigerator.

A nice ending to a nice relaxing day. A good way to spend our 25th anniversary.

Silver

A long time ago, on a certain day, I thought I might be the luckiest man in the world.



Twenty-five years later, I know I am.

Mother of Invention

Years ago, as a single guy, I could indulge in tinkering.

The small black and white TV(color was still very expensive). With no remote, no sleep timer, everything had to be done manually.

So the TV was hooked up to a modified clock radio (the brown box to the right of the lamp). This gave me the ability to use the clock radio’s sleep timer to turn off the TV automatically.

Another switch on the clock radio operated the motors that raised and lowered the TV.
This allowed me to adjust the volume, change the channel, then move the TV back up to an easier viewing place.

Bootlegged cable gave me more than the normal 3 TV stations that were available via the rabbit ears.

And one week after ES send me a card about TV falling on a guy in bed, my TV fell, narrowly missing a comely, freckle-faced lass who was watching TV with me.
The TV never went back up.

That man said ‘puppy biscuit’!

And you know the story.

So when I let my mind wander into scenarios like Walter’s I eventually have to add a name to my character. Find a name that I think fits, weave the story. But I have to choose a name with care, for I don’t want to upset someone I know.
It’s easy here, I just make up nicknames. Like Danger Girl (yes, there is a hint of danger about her), or Coconut Girl(and her marvelous Magellanic features. Oh! Now there is a good new slang expression! Yeah yeah, Warty’s a pig.)

But I digress.

It’s hard enough keeping track of all my characters, so that I don’t reuse one. But real life has a way of intruding too.
There have been several times where I have met a new coworker and immediately realized that I now had to revise a short story because my character is not a nice person.

So even though I have plausible deniability about who I am here, I still need to watch what I say.
And pick and choose my names carefully, so no one I know gets upset.
--
‘Pocketa-pocketa-pocketa’ was the only sound he could hear, as he drove the little scooter along the interstate. He was lucky that he had packed it, just in case the car broke down.
‘Bastard car’, he thought. ‘Brand new out of the showroom in Boulder. And the damn radiator springs a leak!’
He knew it was just thirty miles to the next town. He had to get there before nightfall. For at night, the dogs came out and they would be hungry. The heavy automatic on his belt was good, better yet was the shotgun slung over his shoulders.

‘Damn bird Flu! Wipes out 98 percent of the people and now there is no one left to feed the dogs.’

In the next town, he knows he could find another car. That would get him to Kansas City and a new car.

His last words to Nancy were, “You know I would travel cross country to find you.’ And that phrase haunts him and drives him down the road.

Curious

It is amusing, how you set up a profile on a social website. Mainly to track your friends in faraway places. Keep up with a bit of their lives. Mainly pictures, for most don’t write anything. I like to leave a comment once in a while, a way of saying ‘Hi I was here.’
And occasionally, some stranger looks at you. I always wonder how they found me.

But not everyone uses there real name, so they might be people I know, might not be.
And maybe they see that I stopped by and wonder how I found them. So they go look at me, and wonder if they know me.
I wonder if I know them.
But I don’t know anyone in China, UAR, Paraguay, or Pennsylvania.

If I know you, then I’d like to read about you. If I don’t know you, I really can’t seem to care very much.

Millions of Blogs out there, some could be interesting. But I really only have time for the people I know.

Do I know you?

Nerd is the word

My half-awake mind wanders down strange paths, when we take our early morning walk with the dog.

Can you use Nerdlette? Is it more of a female nerd, or just a little nerd? Or maybe a little female nerd?(perhaps there is cuteness factor?)

I guess I should use the more common ‘ette. (female)
As in “He’s an Usher, she’s an Usherette”.
(or small)
“It was cramped with the two of us, in the little kitchenette.”

So then she is a Nerdette? But I like Nerdlette better, it sounds more fun and more feminine.

This is Jack, this is his sister, Jackette. No no, you say. You meant a jacket. The thing you wear that keeps the cold away.
Well my friend, I am sure that a Jackette can keep the cold away too!
But I digress.

Pip calls me Dude!, I call her Dudette.
Perhaps a Dudelette is just a small dude? (is it one ‘t’, or two?)
I call our Tommy dog ‘The Dudelette’, because when we had the big dog, it was the Dude and the Dudelette.

And as my mind wakes up, the train of thought jumps back on the track and stops wandering.
You could just call her by her real name.

But I have too much fun playing with words.

Nonsense

While I was surfing through Friendster
I met a girl who wasn’t there.
She wasn’t there again today,
I wish, I wish, she’d go away.

Okay, it almost works.
(apologies to ee cummings)

Happiness is not a warm puppy

At least not when the temperature gets up to 103(39c). That was a few days ago, and now we are a little cooler. I think we got up to only 95(35c) today. The good thing was, when it got to 103, the humidity was only 20%. Today it was only 37%. A far cry from when I was in Cebu, 85(30c) and 90% humidity.

So you really don’t really feel like snuggling with a warm dog when it gets this hot. Poor Tommy, a serious lack of tummy rubs!

And it make me wonder about my friends in Cebu. Since it never really gets cold there, they might not snuggle their dogs as much, give them as many tummy rubs?

Poor doggies!

Lobby Ladies

As they walk by the gate to the hotel pool, they peer at the white boys. Are they window shopping?
“Look how pale they are, they must be sick.”
“There’s a fat one, he’s an easy target.”
It’s too easy to think the worst of them, to dismiss them.

Bag-boy coined the phrase, ‘The Lobby ladies’; or maybe he got it from someone else. Others like the phrase and use it.
And it is fun to sit there in the lobby of the Cebu Marriott and watch the parade of people. As you watch, over the days, you start to see a pattern. Young, good looking Filipinas with older, less desirable, white men.
Perhaps they are married, here to visit her family. Perhaps they are coworkers? Internet pen pals?
Or perhaps just companions for the day, the night? Well paid tour guide? What sights do they show them? The sight of the site?

I have never been approached by one, but others have. They tell stories of politely declining their inquiries.
Amusing
During my last visit, I either had my wife with me or DT. They usually took a seat where they could watch the parade of people. I think they also kept the LLs at bay.

Maybe weekdays are the slow days. Regardless, I have seen only a few questionable matches. My one weekend in Cebu was pretty busy and I did not have the chance to sit and watch the parade. Perhaps this is the offseason for lone white guys?

Thursday, the manager and supervisors had a training class at the Marriott. The plan was for me to meet them in the lobby, have a drink, then go to dinner. One of them announced that Thursday night, I would have four lobby ladies to keep me company. It is fun when people have a good sense of humor.
Now, of course, I will walk through the lobby with pride. One lone guy with four good looking young women with him! Oh yeah!
And it will be better for them too. If I was there with just one of them, people might think the wrong idea,. Think less of her. But with an entourage of four, well it will be obvious that we are all friends. (or they might wonder about my size thirteen shoes!)
And besides, they will be with the Warthog.
Despite the song saying that, ‘No one ever wants to court a warthog’, some people do like them as friends.

During my whole stay there, no one ever ‘approached’ me. For that, I am glad.
Perhaps I had an unapproachable look? I didn’t make eye contact. And the nights I would quietly sip a beer in the lobby, write notes about the days' events. I suppose I did not look approachable. Or perhaps I did not look hungry? Regardless, I am glad I was left alone. I had too much to think over, too much to plan. I didn’t want to chit-chat and I sure didn’t need that kind of trouble.

Or does he just say, 'oops!'

There is always some smug, self righteous person who says, ‘God never gives you more than you can handle.’
I always want to answer, ‘Yeah, tell that to all the suicides.’

Just a nice day

A call from my son, a quiet morning with my wife.
Trip to dad’s and visit with most of the family.
A good steak dinner with the family.

One bird flew over the West Nile Virus

WG found a dead pigeon by the bird feeder and asked me to dispose of it. No problem, it is my job. After that was done, she reminded me that we are supposed to report dead birds. You know, West Nile virus. So I found the local web site and reported it. I figured that if they wanted to come pick the bird up, I’d hear from someone next week, long after the garbage has been picked up.

Fifteen minutes later, the phone rings and it’s the dead bird guy.
Being late on a Friday, it was too late of him to send out someone to pick up the bird for testing. But he thanked me for calling it in.

I was impressed by how fast he called me. Nice to know the local government is working well.

Looking for Betty look a likes, Part two.

(look at part 1, 1-25-05)

It just dawned on me why she hunts down her look a likes and kills them.

She mentioned a few years ago, how she was having problems with her kidneys. Now she never mentions it.
She used to wear a bikini at the beach, a halter top at other times. Oh, she still wears snug clothes, so I can tell she still has her slim figure and flat stomach. She just never shows them anymore.
The last time I visited, I remember when she stood on her tip-toes, to reach a high shelf. Her short tee shirt pulled up for just a second, revealing two matching scars on either side of her stomach. It also revealed the end of the long scar where they had opened up her chest.
I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. She was one of the first, one of the few that escaped. But as a prototype, she is imperfect and her organs are starting to fail.
So she hunts her younger, newer look a likes. For that is her only sure source of replacement parts.
And they keep experimenting, replacing the ones she makes vanish.

And now I don’t know what to do. Continue to tell her when I see a look a like? Help to keep my friend alive? And at the same time, promoting the endless slaughter of the new ones?
For even though they are the same, none of them are Betty.
Nature vs. nurture.
Same cute, petite figure, blonde hair, and blue-gray eyes. But none of them have the same devilish smile and sparkle in their eyes.

Clean the blood off the wall, please.

“I need to do something about my gut”, she said. “Loose fifteen pounds.”
(Amusing how a Kilogram chick worries in pounds.)
Maybe, kinda. Anyone can lose a few pounds, well except Willow.
But it isn’t always true, that they need to. A few extra pound can round out a figure very nicely.
If those few pounds make the tummy bulge, then I can understand the desire to remove them. If they just add a little more curve to the hips or butt, then you have less to worry about.

But she knows the answer as well as I do, eat less, exercise more. Everyone knows that by now, but perhaps we are too lazy :-)

I try to help, reassure them. Do they understand? (Perhaps I am a bit of a Bolero, does Bugoy also fit? I do not have a good definition.) But do they understand that I will use a compliment occasionally, just to be nice? It’s not as if I am looking to sweet-talk them into bed. I think it is important to compliment a woman, help her see that there are attractive aspects to who and what she is.
If I say that she has a pretty smile, then it’s pretty. If I say that she is wonderfully curvy, then she is. I am not trying to avoid saying fat. If I think she’s fat, I will say nothing. But you all know that if a woman has a defective mental image of herself, then you have to dance around her silly ideas and try to help change them, perhaps just a little. And maybe, over time, get her to stop using terrible worlds to describe what the rest of us find so alluring.

So I continue to bang head against the wall. Stopping only occasionally to wash the blood off.

Danger Girl!

And you wonder how Danger-girl got the nickname?

There seem to be two sides to Santa, at the Nature park in the hills above Cebu city.

Blossom snuggling up to Santa. So sweet!













Dannger-girl finding the bad side of Santa!
And she touched it!

Manila, no vanilla,

Sunday May 28th

So I flew from Cebu city to Manila. And Pip met me at the airport. At first I did not recognize her in the sea of smiling, tan faces. I almost expected to see her holding up a sign that read ‘White Butt’. (she told me later that she thought of that idea too.)
Three years have pass since WG and I saw here. Not much has changed with her. (bitch has seriously not seemed to age!)
Okay, I think that maybe a jean with a slightly higher rise might look better. And girl, I know it was a casual day, but you could have treated me to better fitting jeans. You have a cute butt, but those jeans just didn’t help. (Yes, I am only thinking of myself. If I cannot be seen with my sweetheart, then I want people to see me with some other pretty woman.)

Well, I gave her the wrong arrival time(she missed some sleep because of that), my plane was late, Pip is starving. “So I’m your Bitch because of all that?”
“Damn straight you’re my bitch tonight.”
“Then tell me where you want to eat, and I’ll buy you dinner.”
Good old Pip. Wonderful sense of humor; but with that little chip on her shoulder and a slightly narrow view of things. I could so push her buttons and rile her up. But friends don’t need to do that to one another.

Into her little puddle-jumper and off to the hotel and dinner. The rest of the night was the endless questions, answers, tangents to stories, then back to the questions. You can chat on IM, send emails; but nothing beats a face to face gab session.

Dinner at Bubba Gumps then desert and a beer at a little eatery a short drive away.
I really got a chance to talk with her, listen to her life. See what she is, what she wants, what she wants to become. Sorry, I didn’t more gossip.

She is so much a princess, in the bad type of way. Not her fault, it happens to guys and gals here. Nannies/housekeepers here are so cheap, that lots of people have them. And that spoils them into princes and princesses. They get used to being taken care of. Now add to that, Pip’s ideal mate. Someone who can bend and shape themselves to fit her world. I sense a lack of compromise on her part.
At one point Pip asked me if she was ‘high maintenance’; unfortunately, yes.
It’s too bad, for that seems to structure her life, forcing fewer options on her, setting patterns. The longer that structure stands, the more she walks the patterns; the harder it will be to change.
I fear she will have a chance for something, but miss it because she cannot change the structure.

Yes, easy for me to say, I who do not need the structure and patterns as much. The few useful ones, WG and myself have created together, sometimes as a compromise.
Yes, I have patterns in my life and I am irked at times when they change; but they are not absolutes. Plus I have my patterns and structure with Wonder Girl. It’s taken twenty five years to make them and we are comfortable with the structure. It is harder for two people to adjust their structures after they have been single and in their own world that they have created.
It’s not just Pip, but I do enjoy picking on her from time to time. But as we get older, lots of us get really entrenched in the structure and the patterns. So much so that we become inflexible. And life can pass you by, unreachable.


And now I see I am totally off topic.

Saturday, she picked me up around 11am and we were off for a drive to the volcano and it’s crater lake.
A latte, cinnamon roll and the adventure begins.
Pip was following a different route that her brother gave her. A road less traveled. Pip made one wrong turn and we found ourselves defiantly not on a ‘rode less travailed’.
We ended up at the city dump!
So, get directions, turn around and off again. We ended up back at the toll road and soon we were on the right track again
It is really nice to drive out of the city and see the countryside. See things outside of the big city.
Lunch at a quiet restaurant. They grow most of their own food in the fields surrounding the restaurant.
The food was excellent and the company couldn’t be beat.

Back on the road. Beautiful, lush all the way to the small resort at the edge of the crater rim.
The hotel we stopped at sits on the crater’s rim. There is a big outdoor patio with a lawn that slopes down to a low wall. All of this give you a great view of the lake in the crater and the small volcanic islands in the lake.
Just a beautiful place.

Too soon, it was time to go back to Manila and catch my flight home. It has been so much fun, spending time with Pip. We have gotten to know each other better and that builds a friendship. The next time I am here, I will make it a point to see her again. Perhaps she will have her house remodeled and I can see it.

But there is another reason for cultivating friends in faraway places. I miss my wife terribly. Seeing friends distracts me for a while and eases the pain.

On the road

May 12th
Well, trains, planes and an automobile.

Interesting, getting to the airport and seeing the long lines to check in. Then remembering that I am traveling business class and I walk over to the place with no lines.
A nice young lady checks me in, asks of seat preference. Aisle is the only one.
She noticed my size, and gave me an emergency exit row on my connecting flight. No need to ask. Such a nice, observant clerk.
Since the flight is not full, she explains, there will be no need to stop in Guam for fuel. A nineteen hour flight shrinks to fourteen. That makes it easier for a smoker, but long flights have never bothered me.
A few cigarettes in the cool San Francisco air. It is to be enjoyed, for Cebu is hot and humid.
Business class is very different. Besides the bigger seats and wonderful leg room, you are not expected to do anything. I am not used to being waited on, but I can survive.
A full meal and then I say awake as long as possible. Sleep takes me for eight hours.
Breakfast served by cheerful faces, I wonder if they got to sleep a little. I hope so.
I have lost all track of time. Is it 10 am at home, or 1am in Cebu. Am I supposed to take my cholesterol drug now? Later? What about my allergy meds, and will I really need them? I guess I’ll wait until I get to the airport.

I could have changed to an earlier flight from Manila, to Cebu, since I’ll be arriving much earlier; but there is no way to call the driver and arrange for a pickup. So a three hour layover in Manila is to be endured. At least they are civilized and there is a smoking section with a coffee shop. Perhaps one latte will get me there. It’s 5AM here, 2PM at home and I wonder what my sweetheart is doing? Probably relaxing with a Pepsi, after mowing lawns and cleaning up the yard. This will be the longest ever that you and I have been apart for over twenty-five years. Perhaps I will have more to keep me busy, miss you not so much.
I miss you now.


Arrival part 2
I worked on a story, while waiting for my connecting flight to Cebu. I can polish it later. I begin to feel sleepy, so the last half hour was spent walking the airport.
I managed a little sleep on the plane.

The driver picked me up on time and it was an interesting drive to the hotel. A mix of new construction and run down poor areas. I am still not sure how people manage to drive with the mix of controlled chaos, but they manage.

I was a little early getting to the hotel, eleven o’clock, but they had a clean room ready so I was able to get settled right away. A nice shower, then a few hours nap.

I awoke mostly refreshed and made it to the lobby in time to meet the first of the PPG’s, Blossom. We walked over to the mall and meet Buttercup, then Bubbles. We wandered around, then sat at a café and caught up with our lives.
It is so nice to have friends in faraway places! I don’t miss my sweetheart quite as much.
Then we all went upstairs and had a nice dinner. All the time yaking.
We eventually finished and went back to the hotel. Blossom drove, she finally had her license and her BF let her use the car. She is still a little nervous, but she drives okay.
They waited in the lobby, while I went to the room and got their gifts.
A short goodbye and I was off to sleep.
PPG's and me

Monday and Tuesday have been a bit of a blur. Meeting the planning group and chatting with them for a while. Then meeting the call center supervisors and chatting for a while. Mostly covering who would meet with whom, what would be talked about and setting up meetings.
Tuesday I started the training of a planner, then two late sessions with the call center agents. It went well and I hope tomorrow, they will have more questions. Part of that was just to get them comfortable with me.
Got back to the room at 12:30 am and now I am relaxing before I go to sleep.

--
I am kept quite busy, but not too busy to miss my Wonder Girl! It is the quiet times like right now, as I write to her, that I miss her the most. To look at her pretty face and see her smile. The pictures she sent help, but they also make me miss her more.

--
Sunday

Saturday I slept in, took my time getting ready. I swam and sat by the pool, then got cleaned up and went for a walk in the mall.
At 2pm, I met with some of the call center people and we went for a drive around the city.
We stopped at Magellan’s cross and looked in the old cathedral there.
Then it was off to the old Spanish fort of San Diego.
As we drove through certain parts of town, Leeza would tell me that these were not places for an American to walk by himself!
Then a long drive up into the hills to a Taoist temple. There were some good views of Cebu and it was a little cooler. From there we went higher to a nature park and messed around. There were some good views from there too.

Then we all piled back into the van and went to another great dinner. They neglected to tell me not to eat this green leaf in the soup! I almost burned my tongue off! The soup was good, but I was careful after that.

Some people went home then and the remaining six of us went to a karaoke place and spent an hour singing songs and being silly. I would show you the video, but there is a law in California against subjecting people to cruel and unusual things.

Interesting, the differences in the PPGs. While Bubbles was a little quiet today, Leeza was all excited. She has a fun smile and personality like WG’s mom. Everything was a fun adventure. Even when we were not sure where we were going, it was all an adventure!



Sunday I was up early and we were off to the beach resort. Once there, we rented a boat for the day and went ‘island hopping’. You cruise for a while in the small catamaran, then stop and swim. Most everyone would wear a life jacket, except Sharon. So she and I would swim around and dive down to look at the fish.
If you take some brad and hold it in your hand, all the little fishes swarm around your hand, nibbling the bread. They also nibble your hand! Kinda of a weird feeling! It was fun listening to the ladies squeal as the fish swarmed around them!

We ate roasted chicken, rice balls, peeled ripe mangoes with our teeth and fingers. Laughed and made messes. The PPG’s made a point to bring a couple of beers for me to enjoy.

We traveled to several islands and swam at each one.

By the end of the day, we were tired. But Josie(the call center manager) came back to the hotel at five and took me out to dinner, with her two teenage sons, and a friend of theirs.
They are all so much fun!
--
I try to write to my sweetheart, but it is difficult.
I would like to tell her how much I miss her, but my eyes fill with tears too easily and it is hard to type.
I cannot wait to be back in her arms again, where I belong.

--
Thursday

My work here is almost done. One more day, then I fly to Manila and see Pip. Two more days and I’ll be back in my sweethearts’ arms. In twenty-five years of marriage, this is the longest that we have been apart. It has been tough, but everyone is so warm and friendly here, it makes it bearable. I almost feel bad about leaving them.
Almost, but not quite.

The training has gone well and I think that the lines of communication are stronger now. It is tough, being a in the Keep on the borderlands. You are far from the center of the Kingdom and word can travel slowly and get garbled. Being there in person, one can pass the knowledge better. Better that it is a nice, smiling face. It helps people understand how things work back at the hub. It helps us understand the issues of being far away from the hub.
I build friendships this way. Friendships that last and are renewed when I return. It makes the stay here so pleasant.

The supervisors and their manager have training today, for three days. Luckily, it was here in the Marriott. When I got back to the Hotel, I met them in the lobby. Yes, there was the joke about them being my ‘lobby ladies’. It was raining, so we took a cab over to the other end of the mall and had a drink and some dinner. Cathy loves Baily’s Irish Cream. While we snacked, we chatted up a storm. You learn a few more things about each person. I already know Bubbles and Buttercup, getting to know Josie, but I have not had a lot of time to chat with Cathy. (note, I seriously need nicknames for J & C)
(folks, if you travel to Cebu, go local. And not just because the Cerveza Negra is quite good, but they are not so good at American food. They are great at the local specialties and when they mix Cebuano cooking with Chinese. So eat the local food, it is sooo good)

An amusing note. We were seated near the air conditioner and I was loving it! Poor Cathy was getting cold. Now usually, a guy would offer his coat; but there is no way I would even carry a coat in this heat and humidity. Funny how people get acclimated to the local weather, weather that does not change a lot. I am used to broader swings in temperature and I do like cooler weather more than hot.

Then it was time to go. They had to be home and to bed, for they had more training

Friday.
May 26th
So it was goodbye hugs all around and Josie says that she will have me back. I welcome a return, but if I have done my job well, I will not need to be back for some time. I will miss their smiling faces.

--
Notes-
Okay guys, it doesn’t work.
The bathrooms at the plant are not air-conditioned. So it is hot and humid in there. So, what do they give you to dry your hands? One of those hot air blowers. Come on! The air is already saturated, so nothing evaporates off your hands!