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My Profile
Because I can't bear to eulogize Doug - 2008-08-19
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12:14 a.m. - 2005-07-14
The other day Alex was hauling my crip butt around on some errands. We stopped at the Smelly Convenience Store for gas. In whips a brand new Beemer convertible (so new it didn't even have plates yet) and a couple got out. He about 27, pasty skin with an extra-tall forehead slick with minoxidil and poofy business slacks stuck in his crack. She was a bit younger and not quite as pasty. Instead of going inside, she came buzzing over to us at the pumps. She had that look which said either she wanted directions or she was going to ask us to dedicate our lives to Jesus. Actually it was neither, she was a reporter for the Misspelled Tribune and wanted my view on the outrageous gas prices. I gave it to her. Including a nice sound bite. The reporter was scatty and overdressed, but I know a lot of the staff at the Trib and they'll get this girl whipped into shape or drive her back to being her daddy's file clerk. The article came out today. You'll be thrilled to know Ms Cub reporter got the quip right, but spelled my name wrong. I'm going to make speaks with her editor. He and I go way back and he will be upset that not only did his eager beaver new staffer not double check her spellings, but that she had goofed up MY name. Grammar bitch, content monitor, frequent source for stories environmental and all around pain in the arse on things political, I've been a thorn in this guy's side since the early 90's. And his new Girlie on the Go screwed up my name. Sometimes the Gods are good. Wolf's hair is taking forever to grow out. The follicles are stubborn too. Wolf wore a bowl cut since ever. No part. All the hair flowed out from the crown. His most of his hair is finally holding a part down the center, but his forehead hairline refuses to budge. His almost chin length bangs are in his face all the time. It's still just a wee bit too short to tuck neatly behind his ears. Worse, he chews the hair hanging in his face. Gnawing guarantees it doesn't get any longer! Driving me mad. If I weren't so sure he'll be wanting long hair later on I'd crop it all off into a bowl again. But, if the boys at the middle and high schools are any indication, long hair is back. Moppy, mussy hair to be sure. Pretty much the same mess that's on my kid's head. Like one day the kid decided not to cut his hair anymore and just let it grow out everywhichway. Very unlike the calculated mop tops of my middle school days. Shaggy was in, but styled shag. Boys are tough. It's not like I can slip an Alice band on him and send him off to school. I tried bandanas and for a while a large barrette holding the front/top hair back (a 'do I called 'samurai hair'), but Wolf objects to clips and headscarves. We are almost through the worst of the growing out process, but I miss Wolf's sweet face. Another few months and it was all tie back neatly in a nape ponytail and we'll both be happy. Wolf because his hair will finally look like Daddy's and Alex's and me because my son won't look like Cousin It anymore. I feel somewhat restricted because of my poor digital photography skills. I want to talk about things and feel like a dope because I can't put up pictures. I am very frustrated that I can't get the hang of extracting and uploading digital pics. There must be a simpler way than what Alex showed me. His version involves editing files and cutting and pasting and making weird folders in all sorts of odd places that I can never remember where they are or how to open them and…gah! It's a mess. I'm embarrassed by my ineptitude and really need some help. In person help. Someone who can sit next to me and go over things a bunch of times until I'm sure of what I'm doing. It's humiliating that people take pics with their damn phones and 30 seconds later they're up on the web in nice frames with funny captions. And here I can't even take a decent picture with a digital camera. Let alone edit the stupid things to have clever thought bubbles. Dammit! Like I could tell you about the window sill roses. I can't get roses to grow outside, but the window sill over the kitchen sink has 5 pots of the tiniest prettiest roses I've ever seen. 3 pinks of varying hues, a yellow and a red. They are blooming like mad. Whole bushes of full-blown roses no bigger than a dime. So pretty. Or the lobster Mike made from old railroad spikes and other train related ephemera. The lobster stands about 18" high and is 2' long. It's a companion piece to the scorpion he made many years ago. The scorpion is also made from railroad spikes and other bits of scrap iron. They are the coolest things! When the mood is on him and he has the proper materials, Mike makes the most amazing stuff. He gets out the welder and has a grand old time. Our mailbox man, for instance. Where other people have a post with a box on top of it, our mailbox and the newspaper sleeve are held out on the 'hands' of metal man. The 'man' is on bended knee looking for all the world like a cross between Johnny 5 the robot and Al Jolson. Mike put him together from Mack truck leaf springs, a couple of bulldozer transmission gear wheels and an old gold mining pan. Then there's the grape fence. Other people have wire and posts or perhaps a lattice pergola, my grapes grow on wagon wheels. Actually tractor wheels. The old style spoked metal rims. Mike assembled a goodly assortment on rims and hooked them all together with strategic welds and cross bars. And the matchstick men. Stick figures made from strips of flange plates and heavy equipment lug nuts. These little guys are full of motion. They climb trees and ride limbs all over the yard. And the angle iron plant hangers. And the hat racks made from piston rods. And…see? Futile without pictures. I'm still laid up. Fricken chair is melding with my butt. I'm exhausted, but not sleepy. Too disinterested to do much beyond mucking with my Sims and biding my time until Harry Potter with a new Maeve Binchy. She announced she was retiring a couple years ago, but thankfully (for me) changed her mind. I like Maeve Binchy. I've heard some complain that she's too chatty and rather given to soppy endings. Well, that works for me. I'm chatty and I love a good happy weepy. I'm brittle and cynical enough, it's nice to let my defenses down and enjoy some good old fashioned chick lit. At least until my main man (boy?) shows up on Saturday. Guess that's it. Not much news from here in my chair. Good night, ~LA
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