August fill up

Filled up the car today. It's been 32 days since my last fill. Yeah, prices are coming down.

Philadelphia and Back

Tony C. and I celebrated his birthday by taking the day off and going to Philadelphia. We visited the Barnes Foundation in the morning, spending several hours is their small museum. Then we took a walk around the gardens. It's a lovely place. And the weather today was perfect – California perfect. Here's a picture of a lovely little tea house,


And here's a shot of the coi in the pond just beyond:


Afterwards, we headed downtown and had lunch at Reading Terminal Market. I had offered to treat Tony to a nice lunch somewhere, but Reading Terminal was were he wanted to go.


Oh, and it was good. On the way home, however, I did not feel that good. Tony thinks it may have been something I ate. Let's see... Started with a couple of pieces of sushi. Then we split a brisket sandwich with peppers and provolone. Then there was this apple dumpling thing from an Amish stall. I couldn't resist the pickled green beans a few stalls away. Then we had ice cream. And on the way back to the car I bought some black licorice. Hmmm. Maybe it was the licorice.

All in all, is was a peaceful day. And I was able to get this portrait of us from my crappy palm treo phone camera:

"I Hit My Eye on a Door Knob"

Yeah, you've heard dumb excuses on tv from the stereotypical female who's being abused. But, it really does happen.

Last night, I got up to go. I didn't turn on any lights. I thought I had pushed the door of the bathroom completely open. As I walked in I stepped on a shirt or something. Bent down to pick it up and BANG. Hit my left eye smack on the door knob. Banged the bone of the eye socket pretty bad and now have a shiner.

So, it can happen. Really.

Klutz.

Moving On

I've been bartending a couple of nights a week at a dive bar down near the Pentegon. Last week I said my goodbyes and worked my last shift. I like many of the customers and will miss seeing them regularly. I seem to run into most of them since they are all neighbors, so to speak. I'm taking the rest of August off bartending-wise. Still have plenty of work in my day gig. And trying to squeeze in some vacation time. Then I'll look for a new place to work – sane hours, smoke-free, better class of digs.

Zoom. How Time Flies.

I've known Casey and his wife, since 1986 when I started working at Writers Guild. He and his wife and I became good friends. They weren't that much older than I (guessing about 15 years), so they always took a kind of older sister and brother attitude towards me. But there was a little bit of fatherly and motherly advice too. I really think that they were more distraught than I was when I broke off with Henry (circa 1996). "But heeees a dooooctor!." was Casey's lament when I told him. He couldn't understand why a good Jewish girl would break if off with a doctor. Okay, I'm still scratching my head about that one, too. Life goes on.

This week Casey sent me the some current photos of his kids, Max & Zoe. Max was the first baby I ever held. I was always afraid of him. Holding him was excruciating. So small. So fragile. For some reason Casey and Vickie kept putting him in my arms. Then when Zoe came along, I was much more comfortable holding a baby by then – still a bit nervous though. This is a photo of her and I back around 1990.

Here's a current photo of the wonderful children of my good friends, Vickie & Casey:

Max is at Berkeley. Yeah. Zoe has just announced that she's going to UC San Diego. Oooh, wee. I'm pretty sure that her thinking is how to get away from Mom & Dad and big Brother while staying with in-State tuition. San Diego. I can't even count how many Bay Area friends went to San Diego.

Poop Serenade

Just took Jaleo for his final walk. It's actually just a step out the door so he can lift his leg. Tonight, he had the peeing pleasure of listening to beautiful Spanish guitar. My neighbor was enjoying the August Summer evening with two buddies. All playing beautiful acoustic guitars.

When I said, "Jaleo, go." They started playing music appropriate for a bull fight. Very cool since I finished reading James Michner's Mexico a few days ago. Olé.

This reminds me of living on Larrabee. There used to be a guy living across the street who played a beautiful accoustic guitar in the middle of the night on his door stoop. It was wonderful to listen to as I fell asleep. Especially how the vibration of the strings was amplified as it ricochet against the buildings. Usually it was fairly early, around Mid-night to 1am. The perfect time to lay your head down and listen.

But one night, around 3 or 4 am, he must of had a fight with someone. And it was loud. Angry and loud. I quietly whispered out, "Love the guitar, but not so late." I heard back a soft "sorry".

I never heard him again. I really didn't want him to stop altogether. I just needed to get some sleep that night.

Sorry.

P.S. Happy Birthday to JG (belated)