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)

Annoying the Sylphid

The Sylphid how are u?
GW Hogg Working hard, as usual. Flirting with the 'second-hand-night-creatures' :-)
The Sylphid dang! flirting huh?! tsk tsk
GW Hogg what is so wrong with that?
The Sylphid I am soooo not hearing this. You don't ever do that to second-hand night creatures. Only to the original ones :P
GW Hogg oh, so now you're turning into a 'green-eyed monster'? :-)
The Sylphid it's right now dark green
GW Hogg 'Green-eyed Angel', dark green because she is an Angel with a smudge? And I am safe from her, thousands of miles away. :-)
The Sylphid u just wait when we meet again
GW Hogg I am not worried. For when we meet again, my smile will melt your anger. :-)
The Sylphid bwhahahahhah
The Sylphid you are confident are you? hehehhehe
GW Hogg yes, I am

--
It is so much fun chatting with friends. I can pretend that I am paying attention to another and my friend will pretend that she is jealous.

Hmmm…I wonder if I can fold this into the other ‘Night Creature-Vampire tidbits?

And you wonder where I get my ideas from.

Answers and questions

People spend serious time dealing with silly questions.

The answer is, it makes a sound, not a noise.

You don’t even have to be a scientist to know this. Any English teacher can tell you this answer.

The other silly part is, who cares? Did the tree fall on you and hurt you? No, because no one was there. So who cares?
And yet, I am sure there are Philosophy majors that can waste endless time debating such a silly question.

If I am going to waste time trying to puzzle something out, it needs to have some meaning. Some consequence.

So when I can’t sleep at night, or I am relaxing on my back deck, I’ll sit and wonder; what did she really mean when she said,
‘I only give lip service to oral sex.’

Amore

How does one tell what kind of eel it was that bit him?

If an eel swims you by
And takes a bite of your thigh
That’s a Moray.

I was thinking (I know, dangerous for me to do), as I was reading some stories recently. It occurred to me how most vampire stories have the person being bitten on the neck. You know that no doctor today would ever say, “Strange these two marks on her jugular vein. I wonder what caused them?”
Everybody knows what caused them!
And by now, any sensible vampire would bite a victim anywhere but on the neck.
If we add to this mix that a hundred years ago, an embrace with a kiss on the neck was pretty darned erotic. (Okay, if WG kisses me on the neck, that’s pretty darned erotic! But I digress)
If someone wants to make their vampire story racier, they have to spice it up a little more. What better way than to have her kiss her victim on the thigh, a little higher, a little higher. And just when you think she will move to the main event, she takes a bite out of his thigh! After all, there is a nice big artery there.

So if I ever put the story together, you will wonder how the poor guy ever explain why there is this hole in his leg.

“I don’t really remember how it happened. One moment I was swimming in the ocean with my friends and I saw this eel. The next thing I remember, I awoke in the Doctors office while they were stitching me up.
I guess it was a Moray.”

But I still wonder, when the vampire bites, is that amore?

Not sure

Odd, but she seems nice.
Not sure who she is.
Barely know her.
But her smile bothers me.
Not a ‘Danger Will Robinson.’, but a whisper.
Quite, barely audible.

Danger, be careful.

Danger

Danger

Why?

You don’t know me

Isn’t it funny when you get a message on a networking site. The gal says she just moved to the area and was looking up people.
She says she saw my picture and thought I was cute.
And I should visit her page and send her a message.

But why would I want to contact someone who’s eyesight is so bad that they think this-


Is cute.

It’s always quiet here.

Not that I am complaining, but life goes along nice and uncomplicated.
The weekend was two beautiful spring days lined up together.

So we mowed lawns, trimmed some bushes. A little tightening of some fittings on the sprinkler system ran the sprinklers.

Some painting, moved the fireplace insert from the garage into the fireplace. It looks good! WG did a nice job cleaning and painting it.

Washed the dog.

Like I said, nice and quiet.

Now I could write every day, about my life, but I fear I would bore you.

Much more interesting to make things up, write them down and post them here. The only problem is that these postings are in reverse order. So what you see now is based on something written earlier. So if you don’t understand the contest, keep reading.

The Incurable Wound

It has been months since my trip to the islands. I still talk to my friends there, exchange emails, but something tells me that they had more of an effect of me than I realized.

Like most people, I dream. Perhaps unlike many, I remember my dreams. Some are odd, some erotic; but most are nice, pleasant, meaningless dreams. Since my return, however, I have been plagued by the most unsettling dreams. The odd thing is how similar they are. I dream that the three of us are together and that I am one of the three. It is weird seeing the world through her eyes, feeling her feelings. I have talked to many women over the years, but none have ever expressed feelings like the ones I remember her having.
Most involved the trio being out at night. Walking through darkened parks, dancing at clubs; and meeting men.
Usually that’s all there is to the dreams, at least that’s all I can remember. That is until this last one.
It is early afternoon right now. I am sitting on my deck and enjoying the warm sunshine. And yet, the thought of the dream gives me a chill.

And the dream started like this-
She is walking through the park, on her way home from a night at the clubs. Her two friends have gone in the other direction, back to their homes. Now a young lady should not be walking through the dark park by herself, but she feels no fear. Despite the darkness, she can see everything. She also knows there is someone behind her. For not only can she hear his light footsteps, she can feel his presence.
The path curves ahead and behind. She cannot be seen by anyone, so she melts into the shadow of a small bush. Moments later, she sees him come round the curve of the path. Tall, strong, handsome, she can see the confidence in his stride. She can feel his manliness emanating from him. She smiles to herself, as she feels the lust well up inside her. Her heart quickens and she knows the aching hunger inside her will soon be satisfied.
When he is almost upon her, she steps from the shadows and blocks his path. He is startled, but only for a moment. He remembers her from the club, bright smile and a hunger in her eyes. He knows what she wants, knows she wants it from him, as all women do. With supreme confidence, he walks up to her and wraps his arms around her. She wraps herself around him, pulling him close. Lips meet, travel; hands roam, their breathing quickens.
She pulls away for a moment and looks him in the eyes. The dark blackness sucks him in and he feels his will leaving him.
“You cannot resist me.” She whispers and he is lost.
Immobilized, he no longer comprehends what is happening. Barely notices as she sinks down to her knees. Roughly, she pulls his pants down and feels along his thigh until her fingers feel the pulse of the large artery. Overcome by lust, she sinks her teeth into his leg, ripping out a chunk of his hot flesh.
Only a small gasp escapes his lips.
She spits out the chunk of flesh and hungrily fastens her lips to the gaping wound. As she gulps down the warm salty blood, the feeling of ecstasy consumes her.

Sometime later, her mind slowly clears. She is standing over the now lifeless shell of what was once a young man. She licks her lips and savors the last tasty drops of his blood. She let herself get carried away again. Took it all, instead of just what she needed. But she knows she will not have to feed again for a long time.

Effortlessly, she lifts him up and carries him deeper into the dark park. She stops by a manhole cover and drops him. She easily pulls off the heavy iron cover and looks down into the city sewer. A good place for the likes of him, she thinks. She then reaches into her purse and pulls out a wicked looking knife. “I don’t want you coming back and hunting in my territory.” She says.
With deft skill, she cuts through his neck and then snaps the spine. First, the body is thrown down into the sewer, then the head follows. She easily places the heavy cover back over the manhole and nonchalantly heads for home.


And as I sit here on my deck, sipping a cold beer, I try to understand what the dreams mean. I am afraid that they are somehow related to the small wound on my leg. The wound that never seems to heal, but always stays an angry red.
But most of all, I fear what may happen to me if I ever go back to the islands and see my friend.

Night Creatures in the daylight

Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered weak and weary,
over many an ancient volume of forgotten Shaoi lor
--

I have been reading some old vampire stories from 1850 to1900. Some were hard to read, because of how the language is used; but most were surprisingly good.

One of the interesting aspects was that in several stories, vampires would be out during the day. Interesting how the legends and myths have differences, we accept the ‘current’ ideas in the film and books; perhaps never knowing the other ideas.

So then, if I decide to make up more interesting stories of my vampire friends, I can show them as out in the daylight?

This could make things interesting.

So, here is where it began.

When I got my first PC at work ( 1995, I still rue the day, since I was forced to move from MAC’s); the IT person said, “Give me a name for your computer. One that no one else will use.” I looked at my bulletin board and the birthday card that my Even-sister had sent me. “Warthog” I said.
The It person gave me a distasteful look. “Warthog?”
“You said to pick a name that no one else would use.”
“Okay.” She said.

Well, here is the card that started it.

(I'll see if I can get a better scan)

Year of the…whatever

Amusing, how you see one place say it’s the year pig, another says it’s the year of the boar. They say it as if there is no difference. I would be curious to know a better translation.
Different words carry different meaning.

Like the time, years ago, when a bunch my coworkers were looking over a copy of the Chinese zodiac and seeing what their year meant. Someone asked me the year I was born and when they looked it up, announced that it was the year of the rooster.
Then they looked up my friend Filet’s year. She read it and then turned to me and said, “Hey Warty, it says here that my best friend’s a cock!”

It took ten minutes for the laughter to die down.

Taking it to the next level.

I have always enjoyed jokes about people hearing voices and what the voices say.
--
The other day, NDN comes over to say hi and she is wearing a great T-shirt. It says,
I hear voices
And they don’t like you!

I immediately thought of this scenario:
There is a couple sitting in a café. She is breaking up with the guy and she says: “Honestly, it not you, it’s me.” Then she hits her head with the palm of her hand. “Actually, it’s the voices I hear. And they don’t like you!”
--
The other day we were visiting WG’s Aunt Obie. She said the doctor was a little concerned because her heart murmur was a little louder and he wanted to run some tests. She said didn’t even know she had a heart murmur.
“And you thought you were starting to hear voices!” I said. Aunt Obie had a good laugh over that one.

Chasing something?

If I lay here, if I just lay here.
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Snow Patrol

I like the song a lot; I can understand the feeling. Last week, this song woke me three different times. Not a good song to wake up to. For after I turned the alarm off, I rolled over and snuggled next to my wife. Could I just lie there? Let the world spin outside our door? It can wait. It’s so much better just lie there with my head next to hers, feel her warmth.
But of course I can’t. So I give her a little kiss on the cheek and say, “Good morning honey. It’s time to get up.”
She turns and looks at me through half opened eyes and smiles at me. A soft warm hug is shared, the world is still far away.

But the lines of the song haunt me on the dog walk. For I am not fully awake and my mind makes odd connections. One of those odd connections is to something an old friend of mine asked me almost two years ago. We were chatting on the phone and out of the blue she asked me-
“If I had asked you to marry me, would you have said yes?”
During the next two seconds, I had to jump back to a time long ago. I was what? Maybe nineteen? Twenty? How did I really feel about her?
“Yes, I would have.”
I don’t remember the next thing she said and the conversation shifted to something else.

But I felt a certain disquiet from her question, for it’s not something I ever thought about. When a relationship ends, it ends. You don’t sit and wonder about ‘might have been’, unless…

For you can endlessly wonder what would have happened if you asked the shy girl out? If you went left, not right? If she offered you a cup of coffee, instead of the glass of wine? All those times you made a choice, or a choice was made for you.

I haven’t thought much about what if’s, for my life has been good. And it continues to be good. All the choices I have made have lead me here, lying next to WG each morning, wishing the world would stay away for just a few more minutes, so I could enjoy just us.

The disquiet comes from the thought that my friend doesn’t might not feel the same as I, when she is lying next to her husband. I hope not, for I would like to think, hope, that she is as happy as I am.

And it would bother me immensely if I knew she was wondering if perhaps she should have asked me.

Don’t ask, I won’t tell

The other night, I dreamt I was staying at…, well let us just say the house of a certain female. And in this dream, in the middle of the night, she crawled into my bed; naked and glorious!
(I know that’s redundant. All women, when naked, are glorious. But I digress.)
Warm, and wonderful, I remember her pretty face. The warmth of her soft, smooth skin; the feel of her ample br...in my hands.
(okay, maybe not quite as ample in real life, but this is a dream.)

I was thinking about the dream, as I walked the dog this morning. This is one of those things that you just don’t tell a person. Especially her. For I am certain that if she knew I had a dream where we…, well she would probably spend the next few hours trying to scrub off the imaginary taint of where I might have touched her.

What is most amusing is that she was the subject of a dream. For in real life, it would never happen. I am just not her type. But that’s okay. It’s better that way. We know who we are. We know and respect each other’s personal boundaries, know which lines we will never cross. And is because of them, we can be friends. Friends without all that sex stuff getting in the way.

Which means we can be friends for a long time.

Darkness Never Falls

It can be fun to take little phrases, combine them is such a way, that they are twisted into something quite unexpected.

Take my friends I call my Night Creatures. I call them that, for they work by night on the graveyard shift.
Take also the phrase they have used when I hesitate to help them; ‘You know you can’t resist me!’
--
It was early evening, as I walked through the park to meet them. The hot tropical sun had just gone down and the shadows were coming out to play. As I watched the shadows grow I realized; darkness never falls. It slowly pools around the trees and shrubs, filling the low-lying areas. It fills the gaps between things and slowly obscures the ground. Soon the area along the path is hard to see, even if the sky still has a faint glow. The stars begin to come out as the land around slips into the night.
And then I see them, coming down the path. Smiles on their faces as they see me. Happy faces in the darkness. Hungry to see me, desiring my company. Their diaphanous gowns shroud their subtle curves and shapes. All dressed up to go someplace special. They were mysterious, when I asked them where they were taking me.

They seemed a little different, as they got closer, almost gliding along the path. Their smiles were a little different too. Subtle changes that I barely noticed.
Silently, they flowed closer; until they stood before me. My gaze swept over them and was caught by the small one’s eyes. Dark eyes, so much darker than I ever notice before. The black void sucked me in until all I could see was her eyes. Hungry for something. I tried to pull my gaze away, look at anything else. “You cannot resist me.” She said as she smiled. I couldn’t focus on her bright white smile, I only felt it. Felt the hunger emanating from her, waves of desire washed over me, augmented by the hunger from the other two.
They moved close to me and I felt their hands on me. One wrapped her arms around my waist and the other two put an arm around me.
“You cannot resist us.” She said as one hand slid up to my neck. She pulled my head down to her and I felt her lips on my neck. Strange, her lips felt cold.

The alarm slowly penetrated my stupor and my eyes resisted opening. Bright sunlight streamed through the hotel window and hurt my eyes. I crawled out of the bed and tried to stand. I wondered what I had drunk the night before; what caused me to feel so weak.
I stumbled to the bathroom and made a pot of coffee. While it brewed, I climbed into the shower. The hot water felt good but made me too relaxed. It made it cooler and that seemed to help me wake up.
I still felt weak, when I emerged from the shower. I poured myself some coffee, hoping it would wake me up.
Just as I was about to shave, I noticed two red welts on the inside of my arm. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw that there were more welts on my other arm and my leg.
‘Damn!’ I thought. ‘Bedbugs!’ After all, what else could cause the bites on my skin.

I struggled to pack and then went down to the restaurant to have a late breakfast. I was feeling starved and ate much more then I should. Then it was back to my room and pack my last few things.
The rest of the day was a blur and hard to remember. I nodded off on the cab ride and again in the terminal. I was so glad to get onboard the airplane and sink into the oversized seat in business class. As I lay in my seat and sleep began to overtake me, I remembered something from the night before.

I was looking in her eyes, lost in their black void. I heard her say, “He will be mine.”
“We want him too.” Was their answer.
“He can only belong to one and I am the strongest.” Their silence was their assent.
She pulled her gown off one shoulder, exposing the strangely pale skin above her breast. With her other hand, she drew a sharp fingernail across her skin, cutting a slit in her skin. As the bright red blood flowed out of the wound, she grabbed my head and pulled me to her chest. I felt her blood on my lips, tasted the cool saltiness.
“Drink!” She commanded.
I drank, though I tried not to.
“Now,” she said, “you will be flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood.”

And darkness took me.

Two Scenarios

Odd event at Radio Shack
I was standing in line at the store and I noticed the young woman in front of me. She kept looking at someone/something behind me and to the left. It just seemed like she was nervous, maybe doing something she wasn’t supposed to. She was maybe late teens, early 20’s; 5’3”, Asian, black hair.
She paid cash for her GoPhone, one of those pre-paid phones.
She got her change from the two twenties and left. I paid for my battery and left.

As I was about to start my truck, I saw her come out of the store, followed by an older white guy. He didn’t come out with her, but after her. As if he did not want to be seen as ‘with her’.
He was a little grey haired, jeans and tee shirt. But he was too old looking to be with her and he didn’t look like her dad. He looked like a blue collar worker. She walked up to a white truck parked in front of me, it had the logo of an engineering firm on the door. He unlocked the door and she got in. Then he walked to the driver side and got in.
The whole thing just struck me as odd. Like somehow the two of them hooked up and he was buying her the phone. Like a ‘sugar daddy’. She gets a phone, he gets sex.
I think if he was the dad or a relative, then he would have been at the cash register with her; would have walked out with her.

Now maybe I am reading too much into this, but it seemed odd.

Car shopping
Two weeks later, my twenty-six year old niece called me up and asks me if I would help her shop for a car. Sure.
We stopped at a dealership where I know the sales manager(aka Hunky. Hey, Wonder-Girl and her friends named him that, not me!). Just as I am introducing Niece to Hunky, Hunky’s wife, Coconut-Girl walks in. I make the introductions, then Coconut-Girl leaves.
My Niece ended up buying a nice used car from Hunky and I think we were treated pretty well. (I hate dealing with car buying, hate it, hate it.)
I was careful explaining who my Niece was, for I did not want people to think she was my ‘Niece’ and I the ‘Uncle’.

A week later, Wonder-Girl walks into her semi-monthly girls party. Coconut-girl walks right up to her and says, “So, who is Warty’s cute young girlfriend.”
They both laughed.
--
I think about the two scenarios and despite the possible similarities, I still get a bad vibe about the young lady in Radio Shack. Something there was not right.

Happy VD

Little Shrimp
Willow
Adventure Girl
HSGF
Filet
Skinner
Daughter-Twin
Pip
Danger Girl
(she whom I dare not name)

Just wanted to wish you all a Happy Valentine's day and let you know I am thinking of you.

Zippy Lives!

For now.

A few weeks after the bastard raccoon ate our goldfish one of our friends dropped by with a small catfish that he caught. We put it in the pond. Two days later, he and his wife bought a dozen goldfish for us! They were at the pet store and thought they’d help us.
It was very nice of them, but within a week, all the fish were gone. All but Zippy. WG named it that because it was always zipping around the pond. Maybe that’s why it’s still alive.
So Zippy lives, for now. I think I need to go buy one of those fence chargers and put a little electrified wire around the pond! Yes, thousands of volts pulsing through a naked wire will teach the bastard raccoon a lesson! Hmmm…maybe I can extend it to the top of the fence? That will discourage the squirrels from eating the oranges and nectarines!. Maybe it can guard the vegetable garden in the spring?

Now I know what your gonna say, “But Warty, you had no problem with the hawk eating the little birds.”
Yes, I know. But the little birds are free. They can be very noisy and they shit everywhere! Plus all you have to do is put out some birdseed and there they are. Ponds have upkeep. Ponds are relaxing, as is the little waterfall that we have.

Yes, I think an electrified fence is the way to go.

Oh My!

They had a free electronics recycling day Saturday so I loaded the broken TV, an old Apple computer and some miscellaneous computer junk(formally Junque) into the truck and went down to dispose of it. This is a good deal since they normally charge $25 for a TV or computer. The other good thing was it forced me to seriously evaluate the Junque(aka ‘treasures’) I had and determine if they should be thrown out. Now OB and I try to keep older stuff, for who knows when you might need it? But there comes a time when you have to face facts and realize that no one wants an old 500mhz Pentium3 processor or an ISSA slot modem.
In the past, I amassed old computers and cobbled together some decent systems for YB, YS, my dad, my son, WG, Prickly and her mom. Sometimes, a person finally buys a new system and the old one comes back to me. I refurbish it and it goes on to the next family member. That is real recycling!

At least I did due diligence and tried to find a non-profit that wanted the old computer stuff. Now I can hope that the recyclers really recycle this stuff, as opposed to shipping it off to some third world country.

When I arrived there, I could see pallets and pallets of old computers! And you know that among the junk computers, there were some treasures! Boy, if I could have spent some time looking over the stuff before it was hauled away. You know that some people will buy a new computer and just junk the old one! YOU KNOW that there was some good stuff in there.
But alas, then don’t let you salvage. You drop off your stuff and as you drive away, you look longingly in your review mirror at all the good stuff that you will never get to play with.

Tails of the forbidden zone

Or, 'I said there are rules, Damnit!' (mostly)

I have told you how Tommy will not cross the kitchen floor into the rest of the house unless there are specific circumstances(rules). Someone at the front door; are you awake yet(walk time); where’s WG.
The other morning, while I was sitting at the kitchen table, putting my socks on(pre-walk), he came across the forbidden zone for a chin scratch. Now, this is permissible since he comes just far enough for me to scratch him under his chin. We do it most mornings.
Well this morning WG stood two feet from me, just outside the kitchen. She called Tommy, but he would only come as far the chin scratch mark, but no further. After all, there are rules!

So, Christmas morning and we are about to open our stockings. Our son comes into the den, and of course his dog Enzo(who has no rules) follows him in. As we are sitting there, WG comes in, turns and calls to Tommy.
And without any hesitation, Tommy walks across the forbidden zone, into the den and sits down at WG’s feet!

I am not sure if it was that our son was there, Enzo was there, or that we were all there. But it is amusing how the rules seem set in stone, but there are exceptions that only he knows about.

Undefined

I was reading my company’s harassment policy (not to be confused with a ‘her-ass-meant a lot to me’ policy), but I digress.
But I notice a couple of funny things.
1. It specifically says that you cannot harass a person about their age if they are over forty. So does that mean I can call some of my coworkers ‘youngster’, and they can’t call me ‘old man’?
2. Just what the heck is ‘Genetic carrier status’? Does that mean no Blond jokes?
Oh, I think that’s a blond joke!