The naughty time of the year.

So if Santa always asks if you have been a good boy or girl this year.

And you get your gifts on the 25th, because you have been good.

And the year starts on the first of January.

Doesn’t that leave six full days to be naughty and it doesn’t count?

Like a werewolf waiting for the full moon, does the Bad Warty come out this time of the year?

Sleeping with Mina.

‘Sleeping with Mina’, a pretty good title I think, but not quite accurate. Maybe it should be, ‘Going to bed with Mina.’? Better, but not as fun.
I ponder the two titles each day, as I drive down the freeway at seventy miles per hour. Best to think of the titles, not of where I am going or where I have come from.

“You okay?” Wonder Girl says from the passenger seat.
“Yes, I’m okay.” I lie. “You okay?”
“I’m okay.” She might be lying also. That’s okay.

Which title should I use? I wonder as I slip into ‘Walter Mitty mode.’

Oh, I am sure that some drama queen will read it and think ‘OMG and he’s married!’. Willow would read it and say something like, ‘Oh stop pulling my leg Warty, I am tall enough already!’ Willow knows me well.
Jive-Daughter might say, ‘It’s okay, I wouldn’t mind being a few inches taller.’
Not sure how well JD she knows me.

So while we drive back and forth to the hospital, I think of other things. Anything but my dad lying in the hospital. I have to keep my eyes clear and watch the road. There is no time for tears.

For over the last few days, we have come to understand what lies ahead for my dad and how the end will come soon.

And I have trouble sleeping.

So as I snuggle up to my warm wife, I put my thoughts elsewhere. Since we know how hard it can be to calm your thoughts and sleep. So instead of trying not to think of something, I learned a long time ago to worry a story.
I’ll lie there and go over and over a scene. Tweak the dialog, imagine what the characters look like. Play the scene through and change how they act. Last summer I watched as an alien prepared to destroy a planet. Recently, I have toyed with how Carric(Inky) would save Cynthia(Sucky). But as I work on chapter four of the Inky-Sucky saga I realized that I really don’t want to drag Mina into it. For Mina Harker (You should know who she is if you have read the classics. Okay, google her name.) brings a whole mess of myth into the stories that I don’t want to use.
But I still have the scene that I will never use. And now I can use it to put myself to sleep.

So every night, for the last month or so, I go to bed with Mina, and Mina helps me sleep.
--

The Mina Scene
Not to be used in the Inky – Sucky saga
By G.W. Hogg

Carric paused across the street from bar, ‘Mina’s place’. He was full of trepidations about the upcoming meeting with Mina. The last time he encountered her, he had the upper hand. Today might be different.
He shrugged, it had to be done to save Sucky. He dashed across the dark street.

Pushing through the Bar’s heavy front door, he was surprised to find the bar was well lit. Booths lined the two walls on either side of him, upholstered in red leather. There were flowers on the tables and well-maintained plants hanging from the ceiling. Small tables filled the space between the walls and the long bar against the right wall. Women of all types were seated in groups in the booths and tables.
As he walked to the bar, the patrons watched him. He was not wanted here he knew, but that was not his worry.
He slid onto one of the bar stools and the young woman behind the bar put down the glass she was drying and walked over to him.
“Hi. Do you know where you are?”
Carric glanced around before replying. “Sure. I am in a quiet neighborhood bar. A place where people accept you for who you are, not judge you for what you are. A place where a person can enjoy the quiet company of friends, or enjoy a cold beer and be left alone.”
The bartender frowned for a moment. “Well, you summed us up pretty well. What can I get you?”
“A Harpoon IPA would be good.”
“Okay, coming right up.”
Carric watched her as she poured the beer from the tap. She was a handsome young woman, but a little too masculine for his tastes. Not that it mattered. This was not a place to try for a pickup.
The bartender came back with the cold mug of beer and set it down in front of him. He fished out a twenty and placed it on the counter. He took a sip of the beer, it was good and cold and with the nice extra bite of hops that he liked.
“If you don’t mind my asking, why are you here?”
Carric put the mug down before answering. “Besides knowing that I’ll be left alone here, I was hoping to chat with Mina.”
“You a friend of hers?” The bartender looked skeptical.
“Ah…more of an acquaintance than a friend. I ran into her years ago. I heard she had a nice little bar here in town and I thought I’d stop in and say hello.”
“I think there is something more.”
“Maybe. Is she here?”
“Yes, in the back room.”
“Can you ask her to come out? I’d like to say hello.”
“Sure.” She still looked skeptical, but she walked to the end of the bar and disappeared through the doorway.

While she was gone, several women came in and sat down at the bar, blocking Carric’s view of the doorway. He continued to sip his beer until he saw the bartender return.
“I didn’t get his name, but he seems okay.” She said as stopped in front of Carric.
Carric leaned forward just as Mina turned.
“You!” Mina exclaimed as she recognized him. Her hand lashed out and she grabbed his neck and squeezed. It was like a large pair of pump pliers squeezing his neck and trying to crush it. Carric tensed his neck muscles and Mina felt as if she was now holding a large iron pipe. He watched as her eyes changed from surprise to something darker. The darkness spread around her eyes until it was a swirling dark abyss. Carric smiled, then blinked to clear his vision and her eyes were suddenly their normal dark gray.
“Your powers won’t work against me Mina, but you know that from our last encounter. Stop trying to bend me to your will and release my neck.”
“You have some nerve showing your face in my bar.”
“Release me!”
“Or what?”
“Or I will cast such a glamour on you that you will strip your clothes off, crawl onto your bar and beg me to take you!”
“You wouldn’t”
“Remember what I did to you last time we met?”
Mina slowly released him and glared. “I hate you!”
Carric smiled. “No you don’t. You are just mad at me because I bested you.”
“You took from me!”
“Just as you were going to take from me. It’s just that I took control of you first. That’s what irks you.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“And you were going to be a bitch.”
She sighed and her shoulders relaxed. “Yes, you’re right.”
“Now. Why don’t you join me in a booth. I have a proposition for you. Something that can benefit us both.”

Sorrow

Bye Dad

Stones

Pain is sometimes good, I tell myself as I look over the concrete pad, half covered in stones.
Only a little left to do, 6-8 hours? Can my knees take it?
They have to, for there is no other to do the work. (WG’s knees can’t.)
All the tools are lined up, the mortar is mixed. I start.

I kneel next to the blue-gray flagstones, all carefully fitted, and move them out of the way.
Several scoops of mortar, smooth it, place the stone. Tap, adjust, level, ready for the next stone.
Wince
My knees complained from the first moment I knelt. The left one screams at me if I twist it too far. The three Motrin I took with breakfast only dull the screams a little. The four I’ll take with lunch will keep the bastard quiet.

Tap, adjust, level, ready for the next stone.
Wince.

But it is really okay. The aches that start in my knees make me forget my other aches. No time to think about what might have happened at the convention in Vegas, what she might have done. You know that some drama-queen saw them together, put two and two together and came up with eight.
As word spread from DQ to DQ, the drama increased.

I shift my focus back to what I am doing. When you swing a rock hammer, you have to pay attention. Thumbs don’t take kindly to being whacked by a sharp edged hammer. And who wants bloodstains on the rocks?

So I ignore the lies I heard and concentrate on the stones and my complaining knee.

And maybe I’ll forget about the phone too.
Forget that I am hoping for good news from the hospital.
Forget that I am dreading the bad news.

Tap, adjust, level, ready for the next stone.
Wince.


Two days later, my knees don’t bother me much and work keeps me occupied. But the coming phone call looms.

So I will laugh and flirt with you when I see you on IM. Maybe it brightens my mood a little, but I will not darken yours. So I will lie and tell you all is well. That’s the nice thing about IM, no one can see my face. I can easily pretend that I am doing okay.



It’s all about dealing with the next stone.
And the stones are mine alone. So I keep them to myself.

STORYTIME - Whstler

Preamble to Whistler.

Some time ago, I was trying to explain to JD why I liked the night. But it’s not just the night, though I prefer the midnight hour. Early mornings are almost as nice, for everything is dark and quiet.

I told her about the opening lines of The Whistler and how I liked it.

All that made me think of a story and here it is.

And yes JD, I have been thinking about a story based on what you said you wanted. I think I have it thought out. I just have to figure out if I can write it.

GW

Whistler
By G.W. Hogg
©11-30-07

“I am the Whistler, and I know many things, for I walk by night. I know many strange tales, many secrets hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak.”
The opening lines from the radio show, ‘The Whistler’

I used to love hearing those lines as they came out of the radio. For I knew that I was about to hear a strange tale of a crime gone wrong.

I still think about the show, as I walk the dark, quiet streets at five in the morning. Foggy mornings are better, as I walk with the dog. You can’t see across the street and the cone of light from the streetlamps makes a wall of white that you can’t see through. In the distance, I can see a figure crossing the street. It’s a dark shadow among other gray shadows. Maybe it’s another early morning walker, or something else?

I always wonder what is going on in the quiet houses, on the next dark street. Am I missing something nefarious that is happening maybe just a block away? Is there a shadow moving in those bushes over there? No, it’s just a cat that my dog wants to chase.

The darkness just before daybreak is okay, for life is returning to the land.

It was different, that night I slipped over the wall of the cemetery. The fog was thick, so I knew that no one could have seen me.
Inside the cemetery, the ground fog was much thicker. It rose off the acres of damp grass and like a gray tide, swept in and covered everything. I dropped into it and was enveloped by the damp darkness.

It was fun at first, as I wandered past the silent gravestones. I had been here with high school friends, but during the last few months, I came here more and more on my own.
It was nice and peaceful, walking through the gray mist. I could see maybe fifteen feet around me. No one to bother me, no one could see me.

I crossed the gravel walkway and entered a small group of trees and bushes. There was a clearing in the middle with a little stone bench. A nice secluded place to sit and think.
Just before I pushed through the bushes, I heard a clink, the clink of metal on stone.

I froze and held my breath. Cemeteries are supposed to be quiet. I moved slowly to my left, where there was a thinning in the bushes. I eased myself into the gap, careful to let the small branches bend and not break. Slowly, I pulled the last few leaves away and peeked into the clearing.

At first, all I could see was the indistinct shapes and shadows in the gray mist. But then I realized there was a man standing near the bench. Leaning against the bench was a shovel. I continued to watch and realized that the man was slowly taking off his shirt. The bench was ten feet from me, the man was five feet beyond that. I was puzzled and thought it would be best if I slunk back into the bushes. Then I saw movement on the ground. The fog cleared for a moment and I realized that the indistinct white shape was a naked woman. Her body was squirming back and forth, but her arms and legs were motionless.
I don’t know why, but I slowly crept out from the bushes towards the bench. I didn’t even have a knife on me, but the shovel was close. The man started humming to himself.
I reached the shovel and carefully wrapped my hands around it, lifting it silently away from the bench. The man was undoing his belt as I lifted the shovel over my head. Two quick steps, the woman’s eye got wide and the man started to turn.
And there was a thunk as shovel smashed into his head. The man collapsed and I paused. The sound was just like on the old radio shows, I thought.
The man started to move and I raised the shovel and hit him again. He moaned and I hit him again. He twitched and had to hit him again, then again and again and again.
I stopped when the shovel handle broke. I stood there, panting. There was a bloody mess at my feet and my head slowly cleared. I looked around and saw the man’s shirt. I picked it up, wiped off the shovel handle and dropped it.
I saw a silvery shape on the ground next to the man and I picked it up. It was knife about a foot long with a strangely decorated handle and sheath.

When I approached the woman on the ground, I realized it was a young girl. She was staked to the ground and squirming frantically against the ropes that held her. The gag in her mouth only allowed a whimper, but her eyes were frightened and pleading.
“It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.” I said it as softly as I could. Her eyes said she didn’t believe me. I draped the shirt over her, then unsheathed the knife and carefully cut the ropes that held her legs. She tried to kick me and I rolled out of the way.
As I got up, she was still trying to kick me.
“God damn it! I am trying to help you!” I barked at her.
She still tried to kick me. I sighed. I got up and went to one of her hands. When I cut the rope she rolled over and frantically grabbed at the last rope binding her.
“If you promise not to attack me, I’ll cut the last rope.”
She stopped and looked at me. Then she reached up and pulled the gag out of her mouth.
“Who are you?”
“Just a guy who went for a walk. Now, can I cut the rope without you hitting me?”
“Sh…Sure.”
“Okay.” I walked over and cut the last rope.
She scrambles away from me and I didn’t move. She picked up the shirt and put it on. I didn’t move.
When she realized I wasn’t going to do anything, she buttoned up the shirt.
“Now, let’s get you out of here.”
She nodded, then walked over to the dead man, looked at him for a moment then turned to me. “He was…He was gonna…he was going to…” Then she burst out crying. I walked over to her and put my arms around her and let her cry until the wracking sobs subsided.
She pulled back a little from me. “Thank…you.”
“You are welcome. Can we go?”
“Sure.”
I let her go and she let me go, then she grabbed my hand. I led her out of the clearing, keeping to the wet grass. Gravel would hurt her bare feet.
“Where are your clothes?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know where I am.”
I almost told her, but thought better of it. “I’ll have you out of her in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” And she shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“Yes.”
I let go of her hand and took off my faded green jacket. I helped her into it and she grabbed a hold of my hand again.

The wrought iron front gate was too tall to climb, but the wall next to it had concrete planter boxes that we could climb. I made it to the top of the wall, reached down and pulled her up.
“Just hang on to my arms, like this.” I showed her how to grab my wrists. “I’ll lower you down and then you’ll have to drop the last few feet. Okay?”
“Sure.”
She was light and I held her easily as I lowered her towards the ground.
“Okay, it’s just a few feet. I’ll let go of your wrists. You let go when you’re ready.”
“Okay.”
I let go and then a moment later she let herself drop. She collapsed to one side, then slowly got to her feet. I swung myself over the wall, hung for a second and dropped.

As soon as I stood, she grabbed my hand again.
“Come on, there’s a service station at the end of the block. There’s a pay phone there.”

It was brighter here, with the streetlights and the fog was not as thick. The closed service station was still lit up. No cars on the road at this hour. Bright, quiet and well past midnight.
I fished a dime out of my pocket, put it in the slot and hit the ‘O’.
It rang once and was picked up.
“Operator.”
“Operator, I need the police.”
“One moment please.” Click, ring.
“Police department, Sergeant Buckler.”
“Sergeant, I am at the corner of Valley Road and Main. There is a girl with me who was attacked by some man. And she needs help.”
“Listen kid, this had better not be some joke!”
“There is also a dead man in the cemetery. I had to smash his head in to save the girl.”
“What?”
“There is dead man in the ‘Remembrance grove’.”
“What’s your name kid.”
“That doesn’t matter. Please send someone to help her.” I hung up the phone. And turned to the girl. “The Police should be here soon.”
“You’re leaving me?”
“Not yet, but soon.”
“Why?”
“I am not supposed to be out at night. Mom and Dad would be pissed.”
“But, but, if it wasn’t for you…I’d…”
“Be dead, or worse.”
“Worse…”
“But you’re gonna be okay now, you’re safe.”
“Who are you?”
I heard sirens in the distance, a bunch of them. “Whistler.”
“Whistler? That’s you’re name?”
“It’s close enough.”
“I’m Sue.”
“I am glad I was there to help you Sue.” I gave her a big hug and she held me tightly. The sirens were getting closer. I pulled back from her embrace and let my hands slide down her arms until I held her hands, then I gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You’ll be okay now.”
“How can I thank you?”
“You just did, you’re safe.” I let go of her hands. “I have to go.”
“Your jacket?”
“Keep it, you need it.”
I turned and ran back to the cemetery. She yelled a thank you.

The planter boxes in the front of the cemetery were higher than the ones inside. I easily made it to the top of the wall. I turned and looked back at Sue. Even a block away, I could see her waving to me. I waved back just as four squad cars squealed around the corner. Two of them stopped next to Sue and the other two continued towards me. I waved once more to Sue then dropped back into the cemetery.

I ran for a while through the fog shrouded cemetery, then slowed to a walk. No one would see me now. The lights from the police cars would create a white wall that would also hide me.
I paused at the top of a rise, next to the wall and turned. I could see their lights as they drove up to the grove. Too far away and they weren’t looking for me yet.

As I climbed my tree that hung over the wall, I heard more sirens approaching. Everything was being taken care of, as it should be. I dropped to the wall, then rolled off the wall, hung for a second, then dropped to the ground. A quiet two block stroll and I was home.


I still have the strange knife, locked in a case and kept in the bottom of my desk. Once in a while I take it out and study it. I wonder about the evil that I stopped and wonder about the evil had already been done with it.

I stopped walking at night, but I still like to walk in the darkness of the early morning. The early morning feels better. The sleeping are about to wake and the dead have crawled back into their graves.

A Bit of Karma Sauce

I was chatting with Pip a while ago, talking about my wife and me; and how our lives seemed to flow together without a lot of trouble. We weren’t even looking for someone when we found each other. Basically, we have had a pretty good life. Pip said that we both must have been very good people in our previous lives, to have such good karma.
I’m not sure I believe in karma, but that was a nice thing for her to say.

(I apologize for the terrible pun ahead of time)

But it did make me wonder, what happens to people who have very little karma? Neither good nor bad.

I know what happens if they are a woman. They join a Convent especially set up for women with little or no karma.

They become Karma-light Nuns.


Yes, it is a terrible pun. But I have been trying to figure out how to use that pun for the last five years, ever since I drove past the Convent in Cebu. I knew there was a way to use it and that it would come to me eventually.

And yes, I am sure I just used up some of my good karma.

Thanks for noticing me.

You know, it’s not a big deal. It’s just my twenty-five year anniversary gift. A small thanks for working for the company for all these years. It took me a while to find the paperwork, track down that it was shipped to you. Yes, I understand that it was delivered in mid-July and you put it in your desk until my anniversary at the end of August.
And forgot about it until you got my email yesterday.

I just don’t know why it bothers me so much that you forgot.

I am three thousand miles away, easily overlooked

It’s just a stupid clock.

I don’t need any more clocks.

I’ll just email her back tomorrow, ask her to send it out.

Tell her it’s not big deal and she shouldn’t feel bad about forgetting.

Why make her feel any worse about forgetting?

After all, we are professionals here.

I must be tired today. Yes, that must be it. That’s why it seems to bother me so much.

An Answer?

I said there was danger in her smile.
A mere whisper.
Something in her eyes.
I hear a quiet warning.

It has bothered me for quite some time, trying to understand what it is. Tough when you really know so little about the person. When you only met them once.
Conversations on IM just don’t show you who the person is.

And then you read something that gives a hint.
It seems she was spending time with someone and she knew she should not. For that someone has a girlfriend.

So she isn’t the one who is cheating, but she is helping someone cheat. Almost as bad.

Now I think I know why I sensed danger in her eyes, in her smile.

I have nothing to fear, for we all know what the song says,
“For nobody would ever want to court a warthog.”

But still, I will be on my guard if I am ever over there again.

Weary

“You’re so pretty.”
“I am tired of being just a pretty face.”

“You’re so smart and fun to be with.”
“I wish I was pretty.”

I can never win.

Maybe you never realized that your looks were what first attracted me to you.
Who you are, smart and fun to be with, is why I am still your friend.

Huge party

Over fifty people, friends and family!
We never ran out of cold beer.
Hamburgers, Huge hot dog, Turkey burgers and chicken sausages!
WG’s home made macaroni salad! (simply the best!)
Younger brothers special green salad.
Niece’s green salad
Chips, dip, vegetables and WG dill dip.
Shrimp and sauce.
Cake, ice cream, cheese cake.
Too much to eat and drink, too many people to talk to, too much fun!

And then so many people pitched in to clean up afterwards!

Simply the best time.


WG asked everyone to give me 50 of something
So I got fifty-

pennies
2 quarters(50 cents)
dimes
aspirin (really needed that this morning!)
pin wheels (and the confession)
q-tips
tooth picks (and spray starch; don't ask :-)
popsicle sticks with black tape (you figure it out! :-)
cotton balls
bottle caps (dude, you drank all that beers for me?)
suck(ers)
Hershey’s kisses
bottles of beer
erasers
screws
wire nuts
googly eyes
and so many other things!

And a bag full of fifty little bags of M&M's!
Blue and green, the colors of the party
each one said either
'D is 50!'
or
'Happy Birthday!'

Personalized M&M's, is there anything better?

My best friend (filet) drove down to celebrate
(First Office Wife, Hmmm...even if the complany laid her off, she still counts as an office wife, doesn't she?

Our 'adopted' daughter even came! I have not seen her in years!

Chemical Girl confessed that she was the one who had my front yard covered in Pink Flamingos last week! (Is that love or what?)
Okay, so I hate pink flamingos! And she knew that, which is why she did that.

I don't know if I should love her back, or take her over my knee and give her the spanking that she richly deserves!

How cool is this? Deep Throat made me a wind chime out of copper pipe!

Noiw, will he give me a '1' next year? :-)








It is so very hard to thank Wonder Girl enough for all her hard work and careful planning! Doing two parties a week apart! She is simple the best!

Reducing the Carbon Footprint

Okay you little bastard, thought you were so slick, sneaking into our yard
and eating our tomatoes!

Not so smart now, are we?


Well, I will not feel guilty about burning so many candles on my birthday cake tomorrow.

Instead of buying carbon credits, I simple removed one little furry creature that produces CO2!

Bwahahaha!

Terrible Lawn Art

So last Saturday we had the first of my big birthday parties. (we are having two, since not every one is available on the first)
Anyway, I wake up to find the following crap on my lawn!
I am fairly certain who did it, and it wasn't Wonder-Girl. I am just afraid of what I'll find this Saturday when I have my second party!

Too Cool Hydrant

Well, I finally finished the old fire hydrant that my brother in law gave us. I was lucky, since Waterman had already done most of the work refurbishing it. He had the hydrant powder coated in a bright red. Cleaned up most of the brass (it was a used hydrant!). So I just had to clean the rest of the paint off the brass and polish it. Putting it together was simple.



The next step was to pour a concrete base and cover the base with stones. Wondergirl got all the stones fitted (some chipping was required) and lined up on a round board. All I had to do was take them off the board and mortar them to the base.

And there it is, sitting nicely in front of the house. (and too far away for most dogs to get to!)

WonderGirl to is so happy!

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday to me.

Happy Birthday to Even-Sister

Happy Birthday to Waterman (my brother in law)

Happy Birthday to Kellita, the Daughter-twin.

Hmmm...my piece of the Birthday pie keeps getting smaller.

Or so I’ve heard

I am sure you have been in a situation where someone says a funny line or makes a funny comment about what you’re wearing. Your brain doesn’t work and you have no answer. Then two days later, you think of a funny comeback!

Or maybe what is worse is something leaps out of your mouth and you watch it fly into the crowd and you just can’t stop it!

So last month we were at a party at Prickly and Fishing Buddy’s. It was a fun party.

At one point, we were talking about different drinks and Prickly’s dad said. “What is in a Long Island Ice Tea? There must be four or five different kinds of booze in it.”
“All I know,” I answered, “Is it’s strong enough to knock the skirt off a college coed!”
I suddenly realize what I had said, so I quickly said, “Or so I’ve heard!” (I don’t think anyone believed my denial.)

Too late. Prickly’s mouth just dropped open and she said. “Did you hear what your Husband just said? Somebody whack him!”
Some gal hit me on the arm.

But Deep Throat(long story on his nickname) just raised an eyebrow, thought for a second and said. “I like that!”

I like it too, but I’ll be a little more careful about how I use it!

Stupid Dog

A couple of weeks ago, Wonder-girl happened to wake up before the alarm went off. As she was lying there, she heard the Tommy dog cross the kitchen (the forbidden zone) and come sneaking down the hall(where he is not allowed) to see if we were awake.
He poked his head in the room, then shook his head, causing his dog tags to rattle. Then he turned around and wandered back down the hall.
It happened again last week.

Now Wonder-girl understands why for years she would wake up and see Tommy’s tail disappear down the hall! The little shit may not know what time it is, but he knows Tommy time! And when it’s Tommy time for a walk, well, he must figure it’s his duty to come wake us up.

Yes, we were warned that border-collies like to keep busy

A Shame

There is a friend of mine who takes umbrage when I call her ‘short’. But come on, 5’2”(157cm) is short, especially to a giant like me.

Hmmm…if I am ever in Cebu again, and we are walking down the street together, I know what I’ll do.
I’ll slow down just a little, glance down at her little butt and say.
‘It’s obvious that you folks don’t have any building inspectors here. It’s such a shame that they built the sidewalk so close to your ass!’

I will laugh and she will hit me.

It's not Easy!

It’s not easy, having to drive fifty miles to work each day. But that’s the way it is.
Some days, when I have to see the Dentist or Doctor, I get to work from home. It’s either that or take the whole day off. That’s a waste of vacation pay and it just isn’t productive.
And then I hear you say, “Oh you are so lucky Warty, you get to work from home!”
Well, maybe.
Sure, at home, there is some peace and quiet. No bosses looking over your shoulder. No chatting with coworkers over the cubicle walls, distracting you. But you know, it’s not easy, for there are quiet distractions.

For when I work from home, I can usually focus on my work and ignore the little noises I hear, ignore the movement I see out of the corner of my eye. But not always.

For sometimes; when I am staring at the screen, trying to organize my data, figure the formula for the next little piece of data, and WG walks by.
Broad shoulders with a yellow tank top that fits her smooth lines and gentle curves. A slim waist that tapers down just the right amount, to delicious hips that move in a way that can befuddle a man's thoughts. Blue jeans that fit over a nicely rounded tush. They say a wave out on the ocean, could never move that way.
It can’t, for this vision can sweep you away like no other.

The vision passes from sight and I turn back to the screen. ‘Now where was I?’ I try to collect my thoughts.

An email pops up, or an IM message, maybe the phone rings. I can easily take care of each one, then turn my thoughts back to the task at hand. Simple. But remove the vision that can cloud my mind? Difficult.

And back to work, move the numbers, compose the email.

And a voice from the back of the house says, “Oh my goodness, look at the time. I haven’t even showered yet. I’ll be late for work!”

My wife is far enough away not to be a distraction. But there is a little voice whispering in my head now.
‘She is in the shower, wet and ….You know what that means!’
‘Oh shut up!’ I tell myself.
‘It’s okay, you have a license!’

But I am at work, so what if it’s just a desk in the corner of my house. I am at work.
So I push those thoughts out of my head, but I can hear them mumble. ‘Oh, you’re no fun anymore.’

When I get to work from home, at times, it’s just not easy!

Have you no taste?

I guess I should not be surprised to hear that you had a sex dream. What with the way you bad-mouth you husband in public. You constantly belittle his equipment and then you complain that he doesn’t use it enough on you! Darlin, you have told him, in public, that it isn’t worth the bother and now you wonder why he doesn’t bother?

So it comes as no surprise to hear that since you aren’t getting any in real life, that you have to dream about getting it.

One would expect to hear that your dream had Mr. Hunky-stud-puppy in it. After all, I have seen the way your (and WG’s) eyes light up when he enters the room.

But Please! Having a sex dream about the Warthog? I would think you would want it to be a nice dream! Getting naked with the Warthog would be unpleasant, at best. (I am sure that most of my female friends would agree) At worst, it would be a nightmare! (no need for my readers to agree with that. :-)

Sure, I know most guys would love to hear that some good looking gal was having dreams about him. Especially if it involved wild monkey sex!

I just thought you had better taste.

The Sargasso Princess.

I have had that title on my mind for years, not knowing how to use it.
And now I can use it.

Because the way I see it, she should probably put the white flag above her door and raise her arms in surrender.

You set your course for the furthest shores And you never once looked back

Maybe not go down with the ship, but jump off and swim for another. Better to risk a maelstrom (or three), than the doldrums she seems headed for.

‘For the winds of chance, they will bear me straight’ And you spoke as though you knew

For I fear she will end up as another Sargasso Princess. Stuck in the vast warm sea that never moves.
No wind to billow her sails, no current to move her hull. Never going forward, never back. Forever hoping to reach what she can’t get to.

Better to risk a hurricane’s excitement, than aimless drifting.

One hopes she abandons the ship.

The lines and the borders are gone

I think that I have told you about how Tommy will not enter the kitchen unless there are specific conditions, like the doorbell ringing. You can drop a piece of cheese six inches from the imaginary line, just past the doorway, and he will not enter the kitchen, cross that line and eat the cheese. At least not until you leave the room.
He does the same thing at friends houses. Vinyl floors are the forbidden zone! (well, he is part border-collie)

But now we have no (vinyl) kitchen floor and the imaginary line seems to have vanished!
Tommy keeps coming further and further into the kitchen and then he lies down in the middle of the forbidden zone and watches me make dinner! Today, when I turned from the sink he was right behind me, a full ten feet into the forbidden zone!

I just don’t know what will happen when we put down the stone tile. I think there is a rift in the space-time continuum and the imaginary lines and the borders are gone!

It may be a whole new world for the Tommy-dog!

The Wedding

It was simply a beautiful wedding
And a solid, good, well-planned reception.

We got off the boat at the Couer d'Alene golf course and took our seats. We were just at the edge of the beach, the lake forming a glistening backdrop. The hot sun beating down on us distracted us for a while. (Okay, so there were rivulets of sweat pouring down my back and chest)
Then the bride arrived, looking pretty and happy. The ceremony started and the Minister sped things up. He knew we were wilting in the heat.
It was a beautiful ceremony. Hard to pin down what made it so good, but it just was.

And then we were off to the reception just up the hill. Nice shade in the huge canopy. A cold beer in my hand and I was feeling a little better. Time to mingle, get some food, sit back and look at the smiling people. Especially the bride and groom. It’s so nice to see two people who were so looking forward to their life together. And because everything was going well, they could enjoy their day.
They are smart, good-looking kids. And they look good together. It’s funny how people compare the bride to Barbie, but she does look the part. Hmmm…no one compared the groom to a Ken doll. You know, I cannot remember what the Ken doll looked like.
But I digress.

Anyway, just a wonderful day. I am glad that things went well.

Don't Even!

Don’t Even be jealous of our authentic, rustic, plank flooring! (complete with black tarpaper spots)

Wonderful looking, isn’t it. Maybe I should just put a coat of varnish on it?
Well, here is the story. About four weeks ago, the lazy-susan began to stick a little. I thought it just needed adjusting, but when I looked closer, I saw mold inside the cabinet. Not supposed to be there.
So I pulled off the lower panel of the dishwasher and saw where water had been leaking. Traced it up to the soap dispenser. When I pulled the dispenser off, I could see where the O-ring was falling apart. So off to the garage and look in my plumbing parts drawer. Sure enough, I had an O-ring that was just the right size. Within a half hour the thing was fixed.
Wonder-Girl was a little disappointed that I was able to fix it, she said wanted a new dishwasher. (ours is ten years old)
The vinyl flooring was spongy so Wonder-Girl began pulling it up and found water under it. The underlayment was also wet and falling apart. Okay, so it is time for a new floor.

It did bother me that there was evidence of a lot of water. More than I could account for by the little leak in front.

The O-ring held for about a week, then it began to drip again. I told Wonder-Girl that I was not going to try and fix it again and trust it not to leak. Let’s just get a new dishwasher. (that made her happy)

So when I pulled out the dishwasher, I found that there was another leak at the drain in the wall. Our dishwasher has it’s own drain since it is too far from the sink.

And I find that there was a recall on our dishwasher because of the front leak. Seems that Maytag has had a few catch fire. The nice thing is that we will get $75 off the new dishwasher.

So three weeks ago, we tear up the old underlayment. I am sure that you know what that is like! It took us two days. I kept pressuring Wonder-Girl to choose between vinyl flooring or ceramic tile. I needed to know so I could buy the right underlayment.

Wonder-Girl made her decision, tile, and we bought a bunch of Hardi-back and I spent last weekend putting that down. And we put down tar paper again as a moisture barrier. It worked really well before.
We were supposed to leave for vacation on the Friday, but we postponed it till Monday. That gave me the weekend to get the underlayment down.

Monday morning, jump in the car and drive 900 miles to Spokane, Washington. (okay, we did it in two days. I didn’t want to drive 16 hours in one day!)

So we fled the floor and it’s problems. We can forget about it as we watch the preparations for our niece's wedding.

Hydrant Collection

My Brother in Law refurbishes
old fire hydrants.




(only for special people).
I guess we qualify,
since he gave us one this trip.












Wonder-Girl already has a place for it in our front yard.
Maybe we will make it into a fountain, maybe not.
We shall see.
Anyway, here are some that he has finished
and a few he is still working on.

Girl's day

Yes, it is amusing, watching all the wedding preparations, how so much of the wedding is just for the girls.
Seriously folks, we guys are so not worried about things. It their food? Are there cold things to drink? Here is the bride, here is the groom, there is the minister. Okay, everything is okay.
Yes, extra touches can make things go a little better. A little makeup makes the bride a little prettier. But she is already pretty. The groom is handsome. They are both nice people.
I am always amused by the fuss. I can sit here and look back over my 26 years of marriage; the wedding is the easy part and is only one day. If you think it’s that important, it is not. The important things are the work you put into a marriage, day in and day out.

So I do enjoy watching all the fuss.


Five hours to go.
I am relaxed. Our only job was to deliver the wedding dress. That is done and the responsibility is off our shoulders.

I need to take pictures.
I need to have fun
Such a tough assignment.

In the North

Well, we made it to Spokane. Two days, sixteen hours of driving, average speed almost 60MPH(95kph) That include stops for coffee, snacks and dinner.
The nice thing is that there were plenty of places where I could take the car up to 80(125 kph)
I suppose we(I) could have driven straight through, but it is much easier to do thirteen hours in one day, then an easy three the next. But I know if had done that, we would have arrived at 1am and been a complete zombie for a day or two.

We are all here for the nieces wedding. WaterMan and QotFN’s youngest daughter is getting married on Sunday. Looks like over 200 guests!. An Aunt and Uncle fly in this afternoon, the daughters arrive tonight, it will be a full house!

Lucky us, we are camped out in the 35-foot motorhome. While everyone inside will be frantic with wedding preparations and eight people fighting for three bathrooms, we have our own quiet bedroom, private bath, little kitchen (with a coffee maker)and couch to relax in. I tell you, we have the best place!

You can never fault QotFN on her hospitality. The little fridge is stocked with beer, wine, sodas. Why there is even a little candy dish with chocolate bars! Life will be too easy.

The other fun thing to do is watch the last minute scramble of wedding preparations. All we have to do is show up, so out part is easy.

Here they come again?

I had a small nightmare last week. It was about the plant I used to work at and the people I worked with.
I know why I had it, they have been on my mind these last few weeks. There was reunion party last weekend. A lot of my former coworkers we getting together.
I just couldn’t go. Part of me wanted to see them, part of me dreaded what it would do to me.

Because this is what I went through, as I watched my friends disappear, as they slowly closed the plant

==

DREAM THREE

4/29/02

I was at work and there was trouble. Accountants were scurrying around, trying to do things. The FBI, or someone like that, was investigating the company. There were discrepancies in the accounts and lots of money was missing. The main area of cubicles where this was taking place was right where my friend Lois worked. I tried circling the area, to try and see her. Maybe just so that she could see that I was there and was concerned. I know I could not go and talk to her. If I did, then I would be under suspicion.

One by one, the authorities would take someone to a conference room across the main hall and they would interrogate this person.

Again I circled the area of cubicles, but could not see my friend. I thought of sending her an email, just to let her know that I was nearby, but that would cast suspicion on me.

My friend had nothing to do with accounting, but she worked near them. I was sure that if they started looking at me, they would find something wrong. Maybe I made a mistake on an expense report. Maybe I slightly exceeded my authority on some matter. It didn’t matter what the little transgression was, they would hunt until they found one and I would be cast out like all the rest. It was a regular witch hunt.

The dream shifted, and I was talking to some woman who was the cause of all the problems. I knew she caused everything bad and that she was evil. I was looking around for one of the authorities, someone I could denounce her to. There was no one around and then the woman pulled out a gun and said she was going to start making her coworkers pay for not standing by her. I started talking to her, trying to convince her that not everyone was against her. I somehow convinced her that I was still her friend and that I would never do anything to allow her to be captured.

I do not remember exactly what happened next in the dream, but somehow we ended up back at my house.

The police had followed us and were trying to break down the front door. This woman handed me the small gun she had and then pulled out a larger one from her purse. She screamed that they would never get her, pulled open the closet door and dove for the hidden door in the back of the closet. This secret door led to the basement room. I followed her and when I looked through the secret door, this woman was on the table in the basement, crouched like a cat, gun pointing towards me. I could see my wife slumped on the floor, blood pooling next to her shoulder.

There was no more time to reason with this woman. I stepped back from the doorway, yelled something and emptied my gun into the wall. Then I jumped through the door, yelling that my gun was empty and that they were coming. I yelled that I needed more ammunition to hold them off.

This woman, who now began to look like this neurotic woman that my wife worked with in Reno; handed me her gun and wrapped her arms around me. I emptied my gun at the wall, to get the police’s attention. No one came to the doorway to help and I felt her grip tighten on me. I was now in serious trouble. I felt her clothes melt away. She was bleached white under her clothes and on her back was a set of black leathery wings. As she bit into my neck, I realized that she was a succubus and that I was moments away from having all my strength drained from me. If I didn’t call out for help, then no one would be able to save my wife.

I struggled to cry out, but could not. Finally, I managed to pull her arms off of me and push her back from me. She glared at me and hissed like a cat. I could barely hold her off as I struggled with all my might to scream!

Finally, I managed to scream!

And my wife was shaking me and telling me that it was okay and it was all some kind of bad dream.

I had cried out in my sleep and awakened her. I don’t think that I have ever done that before. I told her a little of the end of the dream and we snuggled together and she drifted back to sleep.

I have not been able to sleep. The headache I went to sleep with is still there. So I got up, took three more aspirin and decided to write it all down. Maybe then I would be able to go back to bed and sleep.

(As they began the slow shut down of the factory, I watched helplessly as all my friends, people I had known for twenty years, were slowly cut away and discarded. I had dreams like this for the six months leading up to the closure and then for almost two years after that. I don’t know how they all reacted to the closing, but I felt like the only person on the Titanic who had the one lifeboat. Six years have gone by and only recently did I finally have a nice dream about my old coworkers.)

Not even 28 days later.

After two days of 100 degree temps, and very dry, the noises in the downspout stopped.
I waited until the next weekend before I took the mesh off the downspout. Out dropped a little desiccated lump. Easily picked up with gloves and dropped into the nearby garbage can
No fuss, no muss. No more rat.

The Lonely boy

Yes, the Tommy-dog is quite lonely. WG flew up north yesterday, to visit her sister. Her sister’s youngest daughter is having a bridal shower and WG saw this as a good chance to visit her sister and her family.
So it’s just the boys. Not so much a problem for me, but Tommy knew something was up when we left for the airport last night. When I got home without WG, well, the little guy was kinda of moping around the house.
He is used to monitoring WG.

And you know, when she gets back, he will snub her for a day or so. I mean, how dare she! Who will give him extra love, and snacks? Mostly the snacks.

I just talked to her and it’s 69 degrees up there, 90 on my back deck. Amusing how I am sure that she wishes I was with her if only to keep her warm at night! Me, I don’t mind too much, it is far too hot for hugs and snuggles!

Got a chance to chat with Danger-Girl last night. Haven’t communicated much since my visit to Cebu. I think it’s a little amusing that only recently did I stumble across her email and IM address. Tidbits get left out there in the ether.
She seriously needs to put some more words down on the web. How else are we supposed to live precariously through her?

Lest you think I am now a man of leisure, you don’t know the powers that conspire against me!
Last Sunday, as we were unloading stones from my truck, Chemical-Girl came over and asked if she could help us. (She is such a devious creature)
When we were done, she grabbed a beer from her garage and came over to sit and chat on our back deck.
By the time I joined them, there was a hint of conspiracy in the air.

Later, after she had gone home, WG told me that she mentioned that she would be out of town, to CG. You know what, CG said, ‘I have a few project to do, can I borrow your husband?’
WG said, ‘Sure, just have him back by Tuesday.’
Why do you think I am glad that some of my female friends live so far away. I have too much to do already! I seriously don’t need to be lent out like some piece of farm machinery!

Add that to the ‘hints’ of things that WG wants me to do. No, there will be no rest for the wicked.

Add this heat to that and I will seriously not get any fun things done. Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun.
My dog isn’t mad, and I only have a little English in me. I’ll stay inside when it’s hot.

At least Tommy gets his morning walks.

Today I saw somebody

Who looked just like you,
She walked like you do.
I thought it was you.

Okay, it’s not quite like the song; but the other day I ran into someone’s almost double. (if she had really been a doppelganger, I would have left.)

I was waiting to get my haircut and I had just been called to the chair by the stylist. When I looked at her, she seemed familiar.
Dark hair, good looking, nice smile. Wearing blue jeans and a button-down, loose fitting, long sleeved shirt.
Something about her seemed familiar. I studied her in the mirror as she asked about how I wanted my hair cut.
Hmmm…face is similar, but more from the profile. Similar petite frame at about five-three or four. Black hair and naturally tanned skin.
Similar, as if she was a sister or a cousin. But that wasn’t what completed the picture.

Have you ever met someone who has a vibe, or aura around them? Something that tells you; yes, she could rock your world! It funny how some people exude a sensuality and I suspect that they don’t even know it. Even stranger is the people who seem to lack any sensuality about themselves. Stranger still are the ones who are perhaps extremely good looking, but you get no vibe from them. That indicates they would be as exciting as a dead fish.

And that’s what completed the picture. For this stylist had the same aura of sensuality about her that my friend has. (and no, I will not even give you a hint as to who she is. That would seriously embarrass her.)

And that is the interesting part. For like this stylist, my friend is an attractive woman. But what makes her much more attractive than someone who is better looking, is the vibe she gives off.
And that can make all the difference in the world.

Twenty-eight Days Later

Yesterday, I trimmed the jasmine in front. I really hacked it back a lot. As I was cleaning up the debris, I heard a strange noise. I looked up at the downspout and I could hear scraping noises coming from inside it. I knew right away what it was!
A roof rat!
Now we don’t get them very often, but once in a while, one tries to make a home in our yard. And I (with Tommy’s help) do my best to discourage it.

I have mentioned them before and how they are attracted to things like vegetable gardens.
We have a vegetable garden and I don’t want the bastard (assuming it is male, of course) eating our tomatoes.

Now I don’t know that I could coax him out of the downspout and if I could, I was probably not fast enough to whack him with a shovel. Now I could put the Tommy-dog on guard, but I doubt he is fast enough either.

So I did the only other sensible things. I went to my workbench and grabbed some three-inch deck screws. Now I knew that the top of the downspout was plugged by a wire mesh device meant to keep leaves from getting into the downspout and to keep the occasional rat from getting onto the roof. (they don’t call them roof-rats for nothing)
Now I used to keep little wire mesh plugs at the bottom of the downspouts, to keep the little bastards off the roof. I don’t worry as much now since I found the last secret entrance to the attic and I have plugged that up!
So I grabbed the old mesh plug and stuck it into the bottom of the downspout. Two deck screw driven through the aluminum downspout to hold the mesh in place and the little bastard was now stuck inside the downspout.

Now I am sure that the lunatics at PETA would be incensed, but this has now become a little experiment.
How long with the little bastard live?

We shall find out.

Secret Names

Along time ago, and possibly still today, people had secret names. There was your name that your family knew and there was your name that everyone else knew you by.
Why the secret name? Because if someone knew your secret name, they had power over you. Spells could be cast against you.

Today, we no longer believe in such nonsense, but perhaps we should?
For nicknames are now the secret names. Know your friend's nickname and maybe you can find them on the web.

I am sure that all of you, at one time or another, have Googled your own name. And if your name is even slightly common, you get 20,000 places to look. So if you want to find yourself, Google is not the place to look.
There have already been problems where someone applies for a position and they are turned down because someone Googled their name and saw the person drunk and acting stupid.

You are safe if you have a common name. Not safe if someone knows your nickname. Or, if you have a special, unusual email/social networking name.

Makes me wonder what might be out there. What secrets do my friends have hidden on the web? What parts of their soul have they bared?

And do I want to know?

And should I tell anyone if I find it?

Philosophical quandary

Dear Tee Shirt Girl,

I am faced with a deep philosophical quandary-
Specifically, at what point does one officially become a dirty old man?
My wife once said to me (when I was much younger and giving her a more than admiring look. Which I think is okay, since she is my wife. :-)
Anyway, she said, ‘You are a dirty old man.’
To which I had to respond with, ‘Excuse me! I am a dirty Young man. Someday, I hope to be a dirty old man!’

So, is it a matter of how old I am? Or is it relative to how old the woman is?
It is somewhat permissible for a thirty-year-old guy to ogle(to look at amorously, flirtatiously, or impertinently.) a twenty-five-year-old gal. And it’s okay for him to ogle a thirty-five-year-old gal. But a forty-five-year-old guy should not be ogling a twenty-five-year-old gal.

I think perhaps I need to poll a number of women and find out what they consider a D.O.M. to be.

That way, I will know when can I start wearing a tee shirt that says-

IT’S OFFICIAL!
I AM NOW A DIRTY OLD MAN!
(WOHOO!!) OR (YIPEE!!)

(And I sincerely hope that one of you is Bolera enough to say, ‘Oh Warty! You are much too young to wear that tee shirt!’)

Nothing much happens

A good boring weekend. Just painting the house.

We were just getting ready to start painting when Kimical Girl came over from next door. She said she liked to paint and offered to help. So we gave her the roller, Wonder-Girl took the lower cutwork, I took the higher cutwork. It worked out well and we got the stucco in front all painted. Rather nice of her to help.

Today we finished up the front siding and trim. Almost done with the whole house. Just the white trim on the back windows needs to be finished. WG will work on that a bit this week and then I’ll finish up. There are some parts of painting that I am just better at; there are some parts that WG is better at. I am really good at painting freehand. I don’t need tape or edge tools to paint the white woodwork where it hits the blue stucco. Maybe because I have patience.

So yes, we have quiet weekends where we just do a lot of work.

Fishing Buddy

I was going to write about the guy’s fishing trip and my fishing buddy. Fishing Buddy is rather cumbersome, so I thought I’d abbreviate it as FB.

I had to laugh, FB, no way GW will you use that abbreviation! Everyone knows(nowadays) it stands for Fuck Buddy.

Which reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend of mine. She was describing how there was this guy she knew. If business took her to his city, they would spend time together. If business took him to her city, they would spend time together. They would go out to dinner, see the sights, movies, and…
And when they parted, there wasn’t a lot of communication until they were together again.
I said that he sounded like a FWB, Friends with Benefits. “Oh no.” She said. “I don’t know him well enough to call him a friend.”
“Well, how about Acquaintance with Benefits?”
“Yes, I like that.”

And you know, when I was young, we didn’t have fancy terms for someone who we liked enough to use on those occasions when we were horney.

I have never been in a situation like that, but I have talked to those who have. And I have noticed something. If the two can keep it at just friends, or realize that all they will ever be is friends,(maybe because of distance) then it’s okay.
But problems can develop if one develops feelings for the other. And then they are possibly stuck. Do they wait and hope the other develops feelings? Hide their own feelings and hurt. Or do they realize that they have to get out?
That must be a terrible situation to be in.

And I think back on those times where an ex-girlfriend wanted to get together with me. That was very different. She was in town for the weekend and wanted to have dinner with me. Or there was some strange problem with a household appliance and she wanted me to help. And if I spent the night, it was different. For me, there was no hope of something starting again. It had ended and there was no future. The wound had closed and the scars tissue healed. Ignore the fact that the wound would sometimes ooze a little blood from time to time.
And maybe, once or twice, I think there was an attempt on her part, to rekindle what we once had. But I knew that would never happen, despite the fact that I have always remained on good terms with an ex. When it ended, it was because we realized that it wouldn’t work between us. No one did anything terrible. No screaming or fighting. Just the realization that it wasn’t working.
So for one night, it was easy to slide into the warm, comfortable feeling we had.

And then you don’t hear from the person for months.

I suppose that made me just a ‘booty call’?

I’d like to think it was more.

Next to Nothing

You know, there are times you really want to pull someone aside and give them a talking to. Just to let them know that they are really screwing up.

I’d like to do that to a friend of ours, but I am not sure if it’s my place. I have seen her do this a number of times.
We are at a party and she has had a glass of wine or two. Just enough to loosen her already sharp tongue. Then someone throws some large sausages on the barbeque.
‘Oh wow!” She will exclaim. “Will you look at the size of these! I wish husband was half this size!” You go on, and on. We are already uncomfortable. Darling, you don’t disrespect your husband like this in public. None of us are as big as those sausages, and most of us know that if we were, women would have nothing to do with us. But you continue to tell us how his size isn’t enough, or it doesn’t last long enough, or it’s not used on you enough.
Yes, we get the picture, you will never be satisfied with what he has. We see the hurt in his eyes as you cut into him.

And then later, with maybe another glass of wine in you, you have the audacity to talk about wanting to get lucky later that night. And you will wonder why he is not interested.

Darling, you have already told him he is not wanted, so why would you be surprised if he shows no interest? Why would a guy want to go where he is not wanted?

And furthermore, you’re not the young hottie you used to be. There are a few extra pounds on you. Now it is good that you watch your weight and you go to the gym regularly. But dear, you no longer have the attractive figure that you once had. So if you want your man, then you need to give him some encouragement. Make him want you. But you do the opposite, and push him away.

And you fail to realize what a good guy you have. For when it’s just the guys, does he bad mouth you? Mention your fat ass? No. At most he might grouse a little about your shopping, or some other little thing that people like to complain about. Because you know, we all like to complain a little. But at most, it’s the little minor things that irk us all.
Things that if you heard them, you could easily defend yourself.

He has no defense and I hate to see him bleed.

Or maybe I should shut up?

I think that I have a unique position. When I hear those who are inside the circle, bemoaning what it is like and all the games that are played, I wonder if they see my perspective?
For I am outside the circle and I have been for almost three decades. That allows me to say things that are perhaps a little more truthful? For when you are in the game, all are suspect. Because we know what it is like.
If some gal approaches you, from out of the blue and starts paying serious attention to you, the little warning voices says; ‘You know, she probably just wants to get into your pants’.
Maybe you listen, not to carefully, for you probably feel the same way about her. And that’s okay, for you are both just playing the game. And sometimes, the game just lasts the night.

But there comes a time when you are no longer playing the game. You are outside the circle, watching those inside scurry around. And that’s when things change. That’s when you can stand back and really evaluate a person. Maybe she is just a friend, someone you work with. And you realize that when you offer them a compliment, they may not understand that you are in earnest. They might just call you Bolero, or maybe a sweet-talker. They are deep in the game and misunderstand.

So I have to be careful and temper what I say.

Which makes it hard to try and be a friend. For when I read your blog, where you wonder when guys will stop looking for something better. Stop judging you by just your looks and see the smart, funny person you are inside.
Do you understand that there are those of us who already do? That when we were in this big group, running around the island, having fun, that you stood out? Perhaps not in front of the pack, but you were noticed.
And I came away with the one thought, ‘I like that person! For she is smart and fun to be around.’ And if I get back there and the group goes on another outing, I would hope you go too. Because there are people there who I am friends with simply because I enjoy their company. And adding one more interesting person to the group just makes for more fun.

And guess what, I can throw them a compliment once in a while and they will accept it. For they know that I am outside the circle and my only agenda is to be their friend and help them feel good about themselves.

So when you ask, ‘When will guys mature enough to realize that what is inside a person counts for more than what is on the outside.’ The answer is that eventually most men and women do. Some understand this at twenty, some never do. So you should never waste too much time with the immature. For there are those out there that have matured and can appreciate you.

And occasionally, a compliment is simply meant to be nice. And there is nothing lurking behind it.

Dredge

Dredge
By G.W. Hogg
©10-9-1999

(I have never seen him since that day, but I always wondered what might happen if we both met at one of the High School Reunions. I can only guess.)
“Hi”, was all I could say, at first. Inadequate, but there it was. I struggled to hold back the memories, ones I had left stored away in boxes. Thoughts and feeling that I put away and didn’t want to dredge up. But up they came, unbidden.
“You’re looking good.”
“Thanks. Time seems to have been kind to you.” I answered as I struggled with my feelings.

I always dreaded coming to reunions, just for this reason. They were always people I wanted to see. Old friends, girlfriends, but not this person. This was the one old friend that I wished had died, or at least never came into my life again. It is hard to talk to someone, even to look at them, when the last time you saw them, they told you were going to die. It was said as if the person you were turning your back on knew you the best, knew how you thought, knew who you really were. But I turned my back and went away with another. I could not be friends with both of them, they despised each other. I had to choose between a deep friendship of over ten years or one of two months. I threw it all away for a chance at a happiness I’d never thought would come. I chose the right path, but I didn’t know that then. All I knew was that I was told to choose between the two. And when I made my choice, there were these parting words, “When you kill yourself, make sure you don’t get any blood on her sofa.”
It wasn’t an “if”, it was a when. As if this person knew me so well that they knew my fate.
But my fate has not been that dire prediction, not even close. But I think a part of me did die, the day I turned my back. Never have I had the same friendship, the same bond. I may have thrown that away and never realized it.
As I think about it, I wonder. Maybe a therapist could figure it out, I cannot. But therapy would probably bring out other things that I have successfully buried. Resurrections can be ugly and I am happy to leave them buried. I do not think that going through the pain would make me any happier. Best leave it alone.
But now I have to face a small part of what I buried. The part that I could never figure out. How my leaving cause us both so much pain, how it caused me less.
“I only came to see if you were here, to tell you one thing and then to leave. For I can’t stay here, be in the same room with you.”
I didn’t know how to answer, so I kept quiet.
“I always loved you. And I still do. Your leaving me hurt me more than you will ever know.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know. I also knew that you didn’t feel the same way towards me and I couldn't change you.”
“I am sorry.”
“Don’t be, it is who you are. I will leave now and I’ll never come to one of these functions again. The pain is just too great.”
He turned and left, I mumbled “bye”.
I watched him go and could do nothing. I couldn’t reach out to him and I didn’t want to. What I needed was to get a drink and find some quiet place to think. To somehow figure out this new part of the equation, something that I had never thought of before.
But there was no time. I could see my wife approaching, chatting with one of my old girlfriends. Thirty years together, but this was something I could not talk about. So I did what I always do, and put my thoughts and feeling back into a box. So when my wife came up to me and handed me a drink, I could smile and tell her that I was having fun. Tell her that I was having a wonderful evening and how happy I was that she came along.
I smiled at the old girlfriend and we told a story about our days in High School. Others joined in the tale and we all laughed at the end.
“Hey,” someone asked, “did you see Bill Robertson here?”
“No”, I answered. “ I didn’t see him at all.”

Bring out your Dead

By G.W. Hogg
©2-12-00

“You know, you really shouldn’t keep your feelings bottled up.”
“I don’t.”
“Yes you do. You need to let your feeling show. It’s just not good for you to keep things inside. You don’t want to explode someday”
“You’re confusing things. There is a big difference between keeping things bottled up, and neatly packing them away in a cupboard.”
“No there isn’t.”
“Oh but there is. Bottling them up means that you stuff them away and try never to see them again. I know where my demons are kept. They are neatly shelved and put away. I can get them out at any time and look them over. I just don’t want to.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No. To me, it’s like a gravestone. It tells you what is buried there. I have no desire to dig up the corpse just so I can experience the smell of rotting flesh.”
“That’s a disgusting analogy.”
“But that is how it is. Airing things out will not remove the stink. Things happen. If I do not understand why I don’t want to dwell on it. I know something happened. I know I was hurt by it, but I do not think I’ll ever understand the why, so I put it away. If I ever feel the need to experience the hurt, I can always drag it back out again. I just don’t see the point in feeling the pain again.”
“But you’re not dealing with it.”
“Yes I am. It is one thing to fall and break your arm. You know how it happened. You remember the pain of it. And you can say to yourself, ‘I’ll never do that again’. But when someone does something to you, understanding why does not mean it will never happen again. It is something that someone did and they may do it again. You learn to deal with it and put the hurt away. The hurt is there, always will be. I just choose not to keep experiencing it over and over.”
“But wouldn’t you feel better if you could forgive someone for what they have done?”
“No, that doesn’t change what was done, it only makes them feel better.”
“But talking it over helps.”
“No, it doesn’t really. I’ve just learned to accept what happens.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“The why of some things cannot be understood. Endlessly going over something is like poking yourself with a pin. You may get used to it, but you’ll never like it. I just don’t see the reason to go and poke myself.
“But you need to deal with these things.”
“You may like to, I don’t. Sure, I could get used to poking myself with a pin, but I’d rather not. I deal with things by not poking myself with them.”
“But talking about it helps.”
“I’ve never found it so.

Unrequired Love

Curious.
I was IM chatting with Fibberkin the other day and we had a nice long chat. She told me that someone that she chats with she really likes. She asked me if you can fall in love with someone just through chat and phone conversations. Well, I am not sure if you can fall in love, but you can become really good friends. As I have said before, I have some friends where the friendship developed before we had ever met, or seen each other.
For others, we were well on the way to becoming friends. Meeting in person just sealed the deal.
I had to think about Fibberkin’s situation. She is single, so maybe she is, maybe she is not looking, but she keeps her options open. So if she is starting to have feelings of friendship for someone, is she confusing the feelings for something more? Or maybe they could lead to more?
This will be interesting to see how it plays out. She is a nice kid, though I have never met her in person.

The other interesting thing is that I suspect who she is talking about(no names were mentioned).

Less than perfect.

Amusing that if Wonder-Girl falls asleep while watching one of her shows I have to be careful when changing the channel. If I lower the volume and switch to one of the network channels, no problem.
But if I switch to the History Channel and start watching ‘Modern marvels’; she invariable wakes up and mumbles, ‘Turn it back.’ I switch back, and she falls asleep again.

I kinda wish she was like Skinner or Filet. Both of them love the History Channel. Well, I guess you can’t have everything.

Sayings

Things I heard a friend say.
Or things I have said
Or things I wished I had said.

--
I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleaze.
--
Is a man more than the scum of his parts?
--
I may be slime, but at least I’m self lubricating.
(does that work better for a woman? :-)
--
You know where his mind is at.
Every time he gets an idea, you see it!
MTM
--
‘Cook?’
‘Don’t ever call me the ‘C’ word!
RP
--
Love hurts,
but only if the cuffs are too tight.
--
The last time I let my feminine side out,
she slapped me!
--
It’s not that things have gone down the toilet yet;
but the waters are swirling around us(me).
--
My mia culpa runneth over!
--
Are butts all their cracked up to be?
--
I have so many black marks,
it makes the white ones look bad
--
So much to do, so little time.
So many words, so few that rhyme.
--
Breakfast, lunch,
And always dinner.
Why is it,
I don’t get thinner?
--
Never hurry a naked woman.
--
Waist not,
flaunt not.

--
The voices say I should not listen to them.
--
Why is it called infidelity,
when you are out of fidelity?
--
What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine.
WG
--
Hey, we’re friends, you share
WG
--
As Grandpa used to say, “I’ve become a believer in old wives tails.”
--
Can you get to a stable relationship by horsing around?
--
It’s the singer, not the thong.
--
Does enlightening ever strike twice?
--

Kith the girls and make them cry.

Well, I don’t think that I have ever done that; but I do like the little pun in there. However, since most of my friends are girls, you can say I ‘kith the girls’ (And don’t even try to get uppity with me. I won’t use ‘female’ or ‘woman’ The old saying uses ‘girls', so I will use ‘girls’ But I digress :-).
Unfortunately, there is a danger there. By becoming friends, you grow fond of them. You like them and you would like to see them happy. I suppose, by being a friend; that makes them happy to some degree. Someone likes them more for just who they are. Someone to remind them that yes, they are quite fetching. Someone who simply likes to be their friend.
So I want to see them happy. Want them to find someone who sees what a nice person they are. Someone that they can fall in love with and who will, in turn, love them back. I can’t do that. And I am puzzled at times, to understand why someone does not see them as I see them. For it can’t be that I am the only one who sees them is such a positive light?

So I sit and watch, and count them off. This one seems to have found a nice guy. This one is now married and happy. Oh, I so wish that she could find someone.
Someone to make her happy.
Then I would be happy.

And I wouldn’t think that sometimes; it’s kith the girls and make me cry.

An, a pit of knees.

(see, it doesn’t quite work. I could try, an a pit of needs, but it just doesn’t flow into ‘an epiphany’.)
My arms, my shoulders, my knees are froze.
Well, mostly, my knees. They were sore this morning, they will be sore tomorrow. But most of the eves are painted and the wood on the house is prepped. (Thanks in large part to Wonder Girl, who has been working tirelessly at my side this last week. Or perhaps it is I that has been working tirelessly at her side? :-)
Either way, we have gotten a lot done. I will be glad to go to work tomorrow and let my poor body relax.

But there has been no rest for the wicked. Saturday, while it rained and I couldn’t paint, I drove over to my dad and stepmom's house and spent the day installing a new kitchen faucet and repairing the bathroom drain.
I hate working on old houses with galvanized pipe(their house is eighty years old). Everything is fragile and you have to be very careful. At least with the faucet, I was careful and brought everything. From new nipples, shutoff valves etc. I learned a long time ago to replace everything. After all, the stuff is old and any part could break or leak at any time. So you replace everything.
Faucet done in two hours and went well.
The bathroom drain was a bastard. The bad leaky fitting in the basement broke off in my hands. But because of the limited space, I couldn’t cut off the pipe like I wanted. So when I attached the new fitting, the drain pipe moved out an inch. So the other end of the pipe, upstairs, moved in an inch. Into the wall an inch, so now the pipe from the sink would no longer reach the drain pipe. I tried various things with the pipe in the basement, but I couldn’t make it better. So a trip down to the hardware store for a new (longer) P-trap.
With a new P-trap. The job was done in five minutes. What I thought was going to be a simple job took three hours.

And now it’s Sunday and my knees are sore and stiff. I would say that I am getting too old for this, but my dad is much older. I couldn’t have my dad doing this kind of stuff. He can’t twist and turn like I can. And you know, after all he has done to help me grow up, the lest I can do is fix a few plumbing problems.

I joked to a friend of mine, that when I get old, I am going to buy a house next to my son so I can be a burden on him! :-)
Actually, I would like to live near him, so he can come and help his old man. And I can listen to him complain about his knees!

Women don’t know

We were watching ‘what not to wear’ the other day and there was this odd looking woman on the show. WG said ‘If she plucked her brows, she could be a knockout.’
‘No.’ I answered, ‘she could never be a knockout.’ WG gave me a funny look. I didn’t add that the gal could not be a knockout even if you double-bagged her and turned the lights out. And the fact that you could use her eyebrows for paint brushes had nothing to do with it.

Oh don’t even start with me. You all know people that you find attractive and those you don’t. But have you ever thought of why you do or don’t?

The next day we were talking about Skinner and WG said, ‘Well, she’s not very attractive.’
I didn’t say a word. Women never like to be contradicted in this situation.
Skinner is very attractive. Though sometimes, cameras catch her in a less than attractive light.

And I can tell you the quick one-word reason for the difference between these two women. Proportion.
The first woman had a body shape that was just…well wrong. Nothing fit, flowed, or worked. Legs too long for her body, posture sucks. (Okay, and her face was seriously not worth looking twice at.) Plucking her eyebrows wouldn’t change a thing.
Skinner, though petite, has everything in approximately the correct proportions.

And women can never see this. The will get stuck on eyebrows, or breasts. Sorry, they really don’t matter that much.
Is she proportional? Does she have the .7 hips to waist ratio? Is her face symmetrical?

Oh, my personal preference, does she have a good smile? Is there a hint of an impish sense of humor? Can you see the intelligence in her eyes? And when she smiles, do her eyes sparkle?

So remember ladies, you don’t know what we find attractive. And if we find you attractive, shut up and don’t negate it. Nothing is more annoying!

Not a kid anymore

A small vacation and we are painting part of the outside of the house. Just the eves and trim. The walls will be easier and later.
I bought US a pressure washer to scrub the walls. WG has already found other uses for it. She will soon be able to scrub down all kinds of stuff in the backyard. Deck, driveway, fish pond. She will have fun with it.
But right now it’s all climbing ladders and painting under the eves. It is slow work have it sure makes your hands, neck and back tired.
Since I am a little younger than WG, it does take quite the toll on me that it takes on her. But it is not a big difference.
I do agree with her, that next time, we will hire it done.
We aren’t kids anymore and ten years from now, we will be even less.

A Muse to amuse

Sometimes, the Muse climbs up my back, parks her cute little butt on my shoulder and starts to whisper in my ear.
If I have time, I can listen, mull over what she says, play with the ideas and then weave the story.
If I am really lucky, I can get it written down.

Alas, at times I can’t concentrate on the Muse. And when I finally have the time to think it over and write it down, the story idea is incomplete. No matter what I do, I just can’t get the ideas to weave together.
And you can’t force a Muse.
And I am stuck with a fragment…

Green Eyed Monster

In the warm humid night, a dark shape glided down onto the roof. The sylph-like figure climbed onto the parapet at the edge of the roof and hunkered down. Her sharp talons dug into the cement and she balanced effortlessly on the thin edge. Her glowing eyes scanned the night sky. Lori was hungry, always hungry, but she waited, motionless, patient.

She did not have long to wait. For within the hour, she saw a shape coming across the night sky. Dark against the starry sky, the shape flew silently.
‘I told them we had to watch.’ She thought to herself. ‘What good is power unless you exercise it occasionally? If you don’t, they will doubt your power.’ She smiled to herself, as she watches the dark shape fly closer.

Still motionless and undetected, only her eyes moved as she tracked the shape as it slowly glided down towards the hotel below. It appeared to almost stop in mid-air, then alight on the balcony wall. Then she smiled as the shape almost lost its balance and half fell onto the balcony.
“Amateur.” She hissed derisively as she stood and unfurled her dark leathery wings. She effortlessly launched herself off the parapet.

The young man didn’t hear the thump on his balcony, nor the noise of the sliding glass door slowly opening. He stirred a little, when a wing thumped into the door frame, but continued to sleep.

‘Foolish mortal.’ Nuby thought as she came through the doorway. ‘Leaving your door unlocked made it too easy.’ She walked slowly to the bed, her talons silent on the deep carpet. He was big and she would feast well tonight. She bent down and could sense their mark on him, smell where they had touched him. ‘It means nothing.’ She thought. ‘Your marks do not frighten me.’
His eyes suddenly opened and she met them, held them. “You are dreaming of a young woman in your room.” She commanded. His startled look was replaced by one of dreamy lust. She sat on the bed and let his eyes rove over her. “Embrace me.”
As he sat up and snaked his arms around her, she could feel his warmth, feel the life pulsing through him. Soon it would be hers.
She kissed him gently on the lips then moved her mouth over to his neck. “I doubt they even suspect.” She whispered to herself.

“I don’t suspect, I know!” A voice hissed behind her.
Startled, Nuby leaped to her feet and spun around, her wing scraping against the young man’s arm.
Lori’s arm was already in motion and her backhand cracked into the side of Nuby’s face. Stunned for a moment, she could not defend herself as Lori’s other hand, clenched into a tight fist, smashed into her jaw. Pain exploded through her head as she fell back on to the carpet.

Ignoring her adversary for a moment, Lori walked over to the dazed young man. She gently raised his chin until he was caught in her gaze.
“You had a strange dream tonight, nothing more. You will tell no one about it, for saying that you dreamt of us being in your room, well, it would embarrass all of us.” He nodded.
Lori noticed that he had a cut on his arm and that there was a thin trickle of blood oozing down his arm.
“A cut here is more dangerous than you can imagine, my friend.” She said as she leaned forward and licked the blood off his arm, savoring the warm salty taste.
“Mmmm…the taste of you on my lips always thrills me. But now is not the time and I will have to be patient. Lie down, go to sleep.”
As he did as he was told, she turned her attention to the poacher who was still lying stunned on the floor. She reached down and despite her slim build, pulled Nuby to her feet.

(seriously needs more work)