Dear San Diego Chargers,
I hate you.
Maybe a move to Los Angeles will help.
Your pal,
bob
P.S. Go away.
“Sporadic…”
– A Reader
“Disjointed…”
– Another Reader
“Unfair…
– Yet Another Reader
“Worth ten bucks!”
– A Donor via Amazon Pity Box
Guess who I’m listening to? No, c’mon, guess.
Posting has been abnormally light only during this time of abnormally heavy and messy stuff going on. I’m rolling out new electronic medical record-keeping software at our clinic. Let me be clear about that for a moment. Clinic staff are, for the most part, used to working in the world of wild guessing. The new system is forcing them into a tightly confined box of absolutes that have been defined for them by templates and software limitations.
They should take to it just like riding a bike. Granted the bike has GPS loaded with maps to places they’ll never visit, plus the disconnected feeling of pedal-by-wire. Oh yeah, the bike crashes for you too. I think they’ll love it.
Put another way, I’m seen as the calm one over there. That’s disturbing.
In other news, I finally got around to slapping paint on some walls in the cabin. I’m not so sure about my “whatever’s on hand” color choice though. Maybe I should’ve devoted a little thought to the project after all, or maybe it’ll look better in comparison to a bad decision I’ll make somewhere else in the future. Who can say?
Not me. Not yet. But wait for it!
Your best pal in the whole wide world,
bob
P.S. Thanks for donating! What a thoughtful gift. I appreciate it.
Icky
Sure, the puppies have allowed me to jump on their broadband connection, but really…
I’m housesitting for someone through what my brother tactfully calls ‘Taint Week (Write your own joke for that one.) and I can’t help feeling a little weirded out by the whole experience. The dogs seem to be glad that somebody is here to tend to their needs—food and walks—and I’m glad I can provide that service, but as I look upon the home I once called my own I’ve found myself torn. There are obvious maintenance things to do, problems I could take care of quickly and easily, but should I?
I mean, if you consider that it’s no longer my house, should I take on projects that no longer affect me? Can I even reconcile the idea that I’m here helping out even after I’ve been kicked out? Should I try?
I know, so many questions.
Your pal,
bob
Oh The Weather Outside Is Completely Whacked, Like You’re Frying Your Brains Out…
Good evening Wal-Mart shoppers,
Tired of the mundane, the standard-issue yuletide fare? We took a little trip into a neighborhood North of downtown Palm Springs on Christmas Eve to take in a little holiday cheer and we were not disappointed. Why? Because nothing says Christmas like robots…
…seemingly hundreds of them interspersed between inflatable figures, nativity scenes, holiday villages, and tens of thousands of lights powered by the homeowner’s own multi-kilowatt diesel generators. I guess it’s completely logical that when you’ve constructed giant robot statues with found objects and have surrounded your property with them, the next step would be to light them up and fill in the blanks with other Christmas stuff.
I don’t want to say the guy is eccentric, but—okay, maybe I do.
More photos in a bit.
Your pal,
bob
P.S. I’m dog-sitting this week and they’ve allowed me to use their broadband Innernut connection, so more posts are in the offing. Good dogs!
Happy Holidays!
Friends, I figured that as long as I’m waiting for software to arrive, I might as well do something productive. Then I thought better of it and decided to write a new post instead.
[rant]Okay, get this. I’m waiting on mission-drop-dead-not-kidding-critical software to arrive in the mail. That’s right. The vendor I’m dealing with, who has been bitching about slipped deadlines, is sending me configuration files on a CD through the post on the week before Christmas. Yep, because you see, this here Innernut thing is too flaky. You can’t expect to just cram all them files through that little phone cable hangin’ off the back of the peecee. That’s ludicrous![/end rant]
That said, my sister and favorite nephew and I had a nice dinner with someone last night. It was something of a holiday dinner, so I had enchiladas to get me in the mood and you know what? It really worked!
After we said our goodbyes and “see ya next years” I actually gathered the courage and strength of conviction to continue gift shopping. I’m only giving a few gifts this year (it’s the budget, buddy) and those gifts I am giving are identical, so I’m pretty much done. A cool toy or two needs to find its way home with me, but that’ll be the end of it.
So let’s see, I’ll load up the dogs on Friday and head to see the folks. That’s pretty good already if you ask me. More later.
Your pal,
bob
P.S. Don’t you hate it when you finally get on the phone with somebody but you can’t remember what you really called about? It’s awkward. You try anything to unearth that little nugget, like talking about something else in the hope that you’ll get around to the real subject. But that never happens, does it?
Kinda like this whole post.
And no, I still can’t remember.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Nothing says Happy Christmas like pounding techno en Español with all the lights and the tables in the front yard and the schoolgirls screeching. That’s what I say and I’m sticking to it.
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to City Heights on this, the 14th of December. You can almost hear the sweet angels weeping with joy, can’t you?
Well, you would be able to hear them if the speakers across the street weren’t half way blown and distorting the hip-hop accordion samples. You might even witness their tears were it not for the blinding light show.
Festive.
I love your work,
bob
All Fancy-Like
It’s a foggy and crisp evening here in America’s Finest City (as opposed to America’s Finest Village, which is different) and I’m reminded of a dinner party in Hillcrest at the home of my gracious and lovely writing partner. What class, I thought. She was renting a lovely bungalow at the time and I was living in a crap 70s apartment. Her neighborhood was a little dodgy (okay, a lot dodgy) but my block in Pacific Beach was full of drunk college freshmen trying to untie the apron strings.
If you blink, you might have missed the intervening dozen years. Sure, she’s now in a, um, mid-century ranch style in another city, but I’m back in a crap 70s building. My new place has been fully Jed Clampettized® though—complete with ce-ment pond! It’s got purty brass fixtures and real fine swirly textures on the ceiling.
Fantastic.
Part of me says that I’m not supposed to be in this spot at this time in my life. Another part, the more rational part, has a clearer view. There’s a reason for this, I just don’t know what. Yet.
Your pal,
bob
P.S. You’re going to love the next installment, you’ll see.
No, I Don’t Hate You
Howdy Friends!
You must know that I love you dearly. No, really.
Sure you’ve sent me emails. Maybe you’ve even called and left some sort of voicemail. What do I do? Nothing. I haven’t returned email. I’ve barely returned calls. Hell, I’ve even sent some of those calls straight to voicemail while I’m in meetings or in meetings, or in meetings (there’s a trend emerging here… – ed).
Think I could extend the common courtesy to reply? Do you suppose that I could even manage to initiate some sort of friendly communication on my own?
Nope.
I’ve been thinking about why I haven’t been that chatty lately. The crap Internet connection may play a part, but mostly the things I have to talk about with friends and family has been cranky, bitter, and frankly no fun to repeat. Cripes, I don’t even want to hear it again. How can anybody else?
I know. Folks want to hear it because they think that by talking about it I’ll start to feel better. To that I say, I feel better already! Thanks! Let’s talk about something else.
Expect a call.
– bob
Decorative!
Considering a week ago…
…the snow this weekend was purely decorative. I heard a little something that perhaps the gods were mad at us and timed the crappy weather to occur at the end of the work week. Personally, I’d like to have some of my taxpayer grant money end up in the pocket of some rocket scientist who would study the correlation between the sudden drop in carbon monoxide emissions (like when we’re not commuting) and extreme weather. Now, there’s a study I could get behind.
Instead of the “mother of all storms” that the chastened weathercasters felt compelled to predict, we got a light, decorative dusting up at the cabin. That gave me the opportunity, with the generous help of the folks and my new aunt (long story, don’t ask) to finally get down to painting.
Yep. That’s one whole room down. What does that leave, eight more? At this rate I should be done in 2007 or so. Perfect.
I’ve been camping in the living room for the last few weeks for good reason. The wood stove lives there. With the right wood in the right proportions, I’ve been able to heat the place up to ninety degrees. Twenty-five outside, ninety inside. It’s just lovely.
By the way, “Damp Dog Lodge” is winning the Cabin Naming Contest so if you want to fight your way back to the top of the list, submit a new entry, or resubmit your favorite old one by the 15th. I’ll decide on the 16th (amazing! a real date? – ed) and send you your prize the next day!
Name that cabin! You can do better! I know you can!
How’s that for affirmation?
Your pal,
bob
Um, Yes! Maybe I Can Write You A Check!
Insurance! Rent! Old Mortgage! Can I write you a check too? Don’t I owe you some money for some debt that I’ve incurred at some time somewhere? Sure!
How about if you send me to a fake website asking me to update my “account information?” Sure. I’ll bite.
Bah!
Can we start painting yet?
I love your work!
– bob
Lies!
Why on earth do I continue to write “more tomorrow?” You and I know that as of late I’ve never been able to make good that promise. What could I be thinking?
Maybe too much optimism. I have some actually, despite Saturday’s post. That cute and cozy cabin of mine has been the best thing for me, as I expected. If only I can find more time to spend there. Maybe that two hour commute might not be so bad…
Who am I kidding?
How about just Friday night through Sunday afternoon up there? How about a little painting this weekend?
Friends, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am about that place. You want the potential for creating good memories? You want to see a smile on my face? Let’s talk cabin.
Tee hee!
– bob
P.S. Is it still Monday?
A Rainy Saturday Night
Howdy friends,
I’ve been housesitting at The 1912 House for the last day and a half while a certain someone is away and it started me thinking about a couple things. First, that the fireplace doesn’t put out very much heat. I always wondered how to make it work better but was never able to figure it out short of putting in some sort of ugly heat exchanger. Nah, I don’t think so.
That led to something larger, what makes a house a home. I know that the topic has been thrashed to death elsewhere and by people far less ready for bed than I am right now, but maybe it’s just this: warmth. Not necessarily temperature, but the feeling you get when you enter a room, when you walk the hallways, when you sit back and imagine what good times you’ll have there in the future only to realize that you’re smiling. It’s not so warm in here this evening, not for me anyway. In a way, I think the dogs can feel it too. They’ve been clinging to me like cheap plastic wrap all day looking for something that just isn’t there.
Good night. More tomorrow.
– bob
Fun Update!
I’m happy to report that I made it back. You should know, however, that driving a certain 17-foot long truck with a trailer down a twisty, icy road was a harrowing and slow process. Sign says 35 MPH? I tried to halve that number in the turns and still found it to be too fast.
[Ford Bashing Alert! Turn back now! The truck in question was a Ford E-350 van/truck thing with a gas-fired V10 engine. What a skittery piece of crap. Can Ford please stop using that Twin-I-Beam suspension? Unbelievably bad and squirrelly and weird handling is the trademark of that system and they just won’t let it go. Bah!]
Whew! I feel much better now.
Back in a bit.
– bob
Moving? It’s An Adventure!
Howdy pals!
This has certainly been an interesting weekend. Because I wasn’t able to move the mighty Jeep Commando up The Hill last weekend, I decided to combine that move with moving all of the (crap) treasures that I had collected and stored in the garage.
No problem! Just rent a truck and a trailer, load them up, drive up the mountain, unload, drive the equipment back. Sounds pretty straightforward, right?
Wrong!
You see, the think tank that is America’s rental industry has a rule. You can rent a truck and return it to the same place, but not a trailer, oh no. You can only rent a trailer for a one-way trip. Lovely, no? (oh, they also consider any other depot in the county to be a local rental, also not allowed)
So, as usual, I improvised, swallowed hard, and decided on a one-way to the desert instead. Then I’ll pick up the poor little Dodge Dakota and drive that home. (um, whee? – ed Just makin’ lemonade boss! – bob)
Loading the truck became easy with the gracious help of my sister, the drive was uneventful, and the mighty Commando cooperated by not flipping over in the mountains. I arrived late, unloaded the Commando from the trailer then unloaded the stuff that was packed in the Commando. Got all that? Me neither.
By the time that was all over, it was too late to get started on unpacking the truck, so I hung it up for the night. Had a little dinner, went to bed early, then woke up to this:
Think Johnny Sunshine on KBLT or whatever might have predicted that there would be, oh, precipitation in the mountains this weekend? I couldn’t get the truck back up the driveway through 4-6 inches of snow and underlying ice. Whir! Slip. Whir! Slip.
So? How was your day?
Your best pal,
bob
You Want Upheaval?
Well, I got it for you. Here’s a very brief update (dialing-up, don’t you know…).
Somebody, somewhere, you know, um, at The 1912 House, is enjoying that house on her own now. I’ve moved to my sister’s house for a while until the Cute and Cozy Cabin is ready. Or way beyond that.
Actually, I’ll be here until circumstances change at the jobsite in this, America’s Finest City. In the meanwhile, I’m enjoying my time in town with America’s Finest Nephew. The digs are nice, my donated bed (what a fantastic night’s sleep! thank you!) has been my saving grace. I can actually sleep now. Go figure.
But I have to say that I’ve been cranky lately, maybe it’s broadband withdrawls, oh, maybe it’s the upheaval. Who can really say? Can this bit be over now?
By the way, this weekend is all about moving my little mess in the garage (400 square feet of good garagey goodness) to the cabin as well as the Jeepster its own self. Maybe Roger Penske’s little rental company can help.
More later (I’ve finally figured this wireless/modem deal out now, so updates should be more frequent).
Your pal,
bob