lady driver, let me take your wheel / touch my bumper, hey let’s make a deal

Today I had about two hours to myself with both kids in school. I spent about an hour doing some computer work, thirty minutes of chores, and thirty minutes getting set up to sew. While I was doing all this I was in mellow, steady-moving state. Kind of the perfect time you think a certain little kitten would want some love. I mean, I would have been happy to put down the dishes and sit with a purring furball on my lap for a few minutes.

But no, it wasn’t until I sat down and started winding a bobbin that the wee kitty finally stumbled out of bed (currently favoring the “hammock” of fabric in the box spring) and came at me all sleep-eyed with stick paws kind of stumbling around. He climbed up on the sewing table and started to purr then saw thread spools and then started batting with harmless velvety paws. He was really warm from sleep and really energetic.

A few days ago while on our trip our housesitter came up with a good word regarding Harris:

Paige: Harris has only gotten out once!me: Oh, that’s good. He seems to know how to come home. I probably won’t let him out regularly until I can chip him and collar him.

My neighborhood is a little sketchy so I want him to be fully protected.
Paige: Ah, yeah. He prounced around the back yard for a little bit, letting me know that I couldn’t catch him if he didn’t want to let me, then he let me.

“Prounced”! That is exactly what kittens do!

I actually love this song and was belting it out in the car today; I felt inspired to search for the video and, um?:


(Billy, check out the move at 1:24. Or the stair declension here at 0:57. Watch and learn).

today’s Whoops! pt. 1 and 2


Well… that one speaks for itself.

And let me make it clear that I personally am not disturbed if the Senator is gay or lewd or likes “hot cops in stalls” action. In fact, some of my favorite people have exposed themselves in bathrooms (and they know who they are). But it’s pretty frakin’ disgusting Mr. Craig neither flushed nor wash his hands after his self-alleged “wide stance” pooping spree. I mean come on.

Friends, don’t vote for a party that can’t practice even bare-minimum level bathroom hygiene.

Apocalypse Now.

Tonight, oddly, our power went out. Middle of the evening. I was perplexed. At the moment it went out, my son woke up from a late nap and cried out; even the lawnmower outside halted.

I was disoriented. I went outside. Ralph was excited. I hung out in the living room with the kids as he finished the lawn. The power was out for about thirty minutes and abruptly came back on while people were still sort of “neighborhooding” it up. Just three minutes after our power came up as I stood outside my house I saw rolling billows of smoke, nasty smoke. People were once again stirring, talking in their lawns. I told Ralph to ride the bike and suss it out; in fact I begged him to remove his bike helmet, his shirt, and grow a mustache first, if he could (he declined).

I only heard one siren, and the smoke died out after about twenty minutes. It was an odd evening, for sure.

"It’s not that simple, Orco."

We’re watching a lot of “He-Man” on YouTube around these parts. Guess what? It’s really shitty. Ralph and I were appalled because as children TV viewers* He-Man was heavy, dramatic grist for our idealogical mill.

If He-Man can’t entertain Ralph and I with compelling storyline and rich explorations of the dichotomy of good and evil, he sure can deliver an excellent PSA:

Do you think anyone ever had the gall to touch He-Man on his bathing suit area? Perhaps when he was merely a shy, awkward Boy Adam. And I can’t help but think the last qualifier is made all the more awkward when it’s your rabbi or minister who’s doing the inappropriate touching.

* I grew up without a TV; I can only imagine my He-Man viewing was either at the grandparents’ or with friends – but I do remember my brother and I watched some. Billy? Do you remember? Was it in the back of that van where that man touched us in the way He-Man is talking about?

"Oh yeah, ’cause we all sell apples ’round here, don’t we?"

Today my day started out like this:

This morning I’d looked forward to a half-day trip with my parents and my children to Olympia (hereon out called ORLY) [ that’s good! ]. Instead I get an eleventh-hour bailout from my mom [ that’s bad! ]. I mean, I don’t want to get too personal or TMI but she basically had some sort of shitstorm going on that meant she couldn’t be more than ten feet away from a commode. So suddenly I find myself with my mean ole dad and my son, and no Mom nor the pleasure of her company nor the gravy-train Visa card of hers for lunch, and no help wrangling The Boy, on my way to a more-than-half day errand which I have to run because my dad has fainting spells so it’s not safe for him to drive himself.

I sure hope she had fun on that crapper this morning. Oh, and to be fair; she retained Sophie and took her to school and afterwards too.

Tonight I got a date I’d looked forward to; I went out with a girlfriend for dinner and a movie – dinner at Ocean Shores’ Galaway Bay (a caesar salad and Fish Tail Ale for me), the movie Hot Fuzz. I laughed so damned hard during the entire protracted ending, which achieved levels of satire combined with heart in a way I had previously never seen. I would have re-watched the movie instantly afterwards and I can say I haven’t really felt that urge before. I can’t wait for Ralph to see it.

And speaking of Ralph – he sent me this article today (in part of his effort to write a Father’s Day editorial, an idea he stole from a friend of mine). I have always loved Carolyn Hax and this is just more evidence. I almost got teared-up reading what she wrote. And yeah – “That’s good!”

Today on IM a friend writes,

“8:49 i dress like a total whore.”
“8:49 a homeless one.”

Which reminded me of today’s clip:

As I type this, a guy across the street jumps down his front steps. He’s wearing tight black jeans (w/belt), poofy white sneakers, and is shirtless with a respectable amount of back hair.

I truly love living here, and I’m not being ironic or sarcastic one bit.