Awoke to overcast, and mid-coffee it actually rained. Lunch at Bricks and then a visit with our favorite Darling-of-Retail at the Western shoppe – who’s quitting! Fortunately we’ll see her again soon at the Gun-Club Picnic, since her grandfather is Treasurer.
Trying to reach a contractor to get a bid on a quick mud & tape job for the garage and the phone glitches and blurps and I’m in some kind of cellphone dead-zone. So I tried another avenue, and it worked with the guy who’s got experience here already – and I’d rather pay local than a guy living out on the 80-corridor in Roseville. But local guy is in the middle of a flip, on his hands and knees laying tile, so the project might have to wait a while. Oh well, carpet is coming and there’s paint to do at the other house.
So off to the new Gunshop in town to meet the guy – Jeff – then to Wally where they had this which I had not seen in ages. And JHP too.
I really don’t do resolutions – really. But now we are up-country and out from under the pasty white thumb of the fluorescent-light BayAryans, so we are on a bit of a kick – kicking away from the fatted-calf of sloth and the zombie-life of Cubicleland.
One Christmas card from the wife of an old friend and mentor was starkly sad. His stroke ten years ago was bad, but the decline that set-in was permanent and irreversible in physical, mental, and also spiritual health.
We don’t want to go out like that and one of the conditions that works to prevent such is adding strength with weights – and actually it was my wife’s idea. Having dropped a few, WE are adamant at regaining strength so that we move towards greater agility and physicality in order to make the most of our Time remaining on this crazy cue-ball.
Despite the role-models that I do have (thanks Bill!) I was content to just move rocks – and that worked, but they’re dirty and lumpy-shaped and don’t belong indoors, and that work now is mostly done.
So now we have some weighty book-ends to remind us that sitting around can be productive. She is working with the Eights while I’ve got these Tenners to hoist in between glasses of local Cabernet and alternating with the Newcastle Brown. I’m going to have to up my game when she starts to reach for the Tens…
Seems to me that squirreling up your family tree (a tree that was pruned years and years ago) to hitch onto a “native” lineage is a bit like claiming to be a MOH winner or a Marine when you were really only a Cub Scout at best… Must be especially sensitive to Hawaiians, where a LOT of inheritance money can be involved or tragically denied.
We shot at 50yards and then placed a new center on the target and shot again in “timed” – and did that again from 25yards in “rapid”, so there’s three sets of holes one on top of the other. It was fun.
The Chiclet-Guava shirted Loud Left and the rest of the black-shirted Anarcho-hipoixousie like to chant the Get Out of Iraq slogan and are happy to dance on the corpses of millions. Dance Anarchist hipsters, dance – this is what the dance of pull-out looks like. Iraq is not Vietnam, it’s Cambodia…
[Holiday In Cambodia video removed by YooToob]
My brushes with celebrity amount to a blind pig’s acorn-finding chances; tertiary, tangential, and accidental at best for your basic dork. B UT, one of my college housemates was a girl who’s boyfriend was a campus radio-station DJ and the roommate and “best friend” of Jello Biafra – and I sorta met him once when he came down from The City to do a gig at the Not-Catalyst, some less-distinguished venue down the street in Santa Cruz.
To meet the so-named munchkin was to be fully engulfed in his warp-field, and to understand the Psychologist’s Desk-Reference about the Napoleonic Complex.
Anyhow it was an interestingly brief meeting, from a disengaged backstage perspective. No free tickets for me.