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!

Wrong word

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seduced another

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

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

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

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

Shucky-darn

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

“Well Shucky-darn”

Justifiable homicide

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not easy being me

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

I always have fun chatting with her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A new way forward

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


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

Nomenclature

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

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

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

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

The Bolero in the corner.

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

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

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

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

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

But my silence would have hurt them all.

Thanksgiving

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creator and Destroyer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We hope that the falcon also tries to catch mice.

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

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

Who r u?

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

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

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

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

Who knows.

And is anybody out there?

You can call me Po.

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

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

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

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

So yes, you can call me ‘Po’