Travalin Man

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

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

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

And to gain another friend.

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

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

My Halloween joke

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

Not my cup of tea

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

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

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

Winter is coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can you find me? Will you try?

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

(I seriously keep too much junk)

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

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

Bastard!

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

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

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

Random thoughts on Maui

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

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

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

Storytime - Inky, Sucky

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

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

--

Inky, Sucky
By G.W. Hogg
©9-15-06

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trains

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

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

PC

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

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

Winter is not far away

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


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

Hoy Ganda!

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not the one for me

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

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

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

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

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

Something, something older

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

The day was ending and WG suggested pizza for dinner.

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

Haunted

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too many of me

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

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

GW

Strange Email

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Los Lonely Boys

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

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

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

Tommy sniffs me suspiciously when I return.

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

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

Worlds within Worlds

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Strange Tail
By G.W Hogg
©4-22-2006

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Don’t open that door Mcgee!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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