It was Kelli’s birthday this week, and Dave had a party for her, making it three times I’ve seen her now since the 24th of July. She said she was thinking I was going to get sick of her, but I remember seeing her three times in a day several times each week. I miss hanging out with her and Dave. In some ways it kind of sucks getting old and having your own family, but I suppose if everything froze that way it would get pretty boring.
We were supposed to bring a picture or something to scrapbook, so I took her this picture that I took the day she got her haircut when we met at her Grandparents’ place where she lived to watch Voyager.
Yeah, for a season we watched Voyager, but you do a lot of stupid things when you’re young.
So Howie posted on facebook that he got invited to Rush week for our old fraternity and it reminded me of this picture I took of him with the chickens we borrowed for a rush party game…
Now it’s not unusual to hear one of our cats growling, but it is weird when it persists for very long. I was sitting here playing my little game and Norman, the Siamese child was growling and being angry. I ignored it for a few minutes, but when it didn’t go away I went into the kitchen to see who was pestering who. I should have known something was up because there were two puffy cat-children looking out the back window and not at each other. But I was thinking about how close I was to getting Elath to 39 and just thinking they REALLY wanted out. As I reached for the handle I saw a gray shape outside the window and thinking it was Stan I almost let it in. Lucky for me I got a second glance before opening the door, because the nose was a little long and pointy for Stan, and I don’t remember him having a black mask, or him being a big raccoon. I swear for an instant the bandit smiled at me, and then him and his friend slunk off around the side of the house.
I was a bit worried about Stan being out there, because he thinks he’s a mighty hunter. I don’t think he could have taken these guys, though. But he eventually made it in and is happy on my lap, trying to keep me from telling this story so I’ll scratch his head some more.
So we got a refrigerator last year and one of our requirements for replacing it was we wanted to make sure it had a filtered water dispenser. I replaced the filter last time by going in to the dealership where we bought it and the salesman just grabbed one for me. This time I decided it would be different. I googled the model of the fridge wanting to find the type of filter I needed and see if I could find it somewhere cheaper. After pouring through whirlpool’s site I couldn’t find anything describing the make of filter I needed. I did find where you could order one by saying, “That’s my fridge, send me a filter”, but it was even more expensive. So I gave in and figured if I went to the dealership one more time I’d save the box and go from there in another six months. So, again, I wrote down the model number and went in to the dealership, but this time the salesman wasn’t sure what type of filter it took. He asked me if it was a “push in” or a “turn” and I really couldn’t remember. A couple times I offered him the card with the number on it, but he said that wouldn’t help. Finally he gave up on my memory and googled the model number I had with me, but to my surprise he didn’t look at any of the fridge info, he opened the picture of the fridge and squinted at the bottom of the photo where the filter goes. He then dragged me to a floor model and asked if the “…cover plate lookes like this”, pointing at the corner of the fridge. I said that I thought so, and he grabbed me a filter, which of course, worked. But wouldn’t it be simpler to just say, this fridge needs a type ‘X’ filter, right on the fridge?
How does it feel
to roam this land like Hart and Twain did?
How, how, how does it feel?
A thousand miles closer to hell
Here I sit in Boulder contemplating my meager bag of dried fruit and nuts, wondering if I can ration it out till Saturday along with the 12 pack of cokes I got at the arco station a mile up the road…
“Is there some reason you would need a car?” The words seemed so innocuous. I decided not to push it. After all, Boulder is only a $46 shuttle ride from the Denver Airport, what could go wrong? We still got to the hotel by 8:30, and decided to head out and look for food. There’s nothing but trees around here, and I don’t see any buildings, so we head towards traffic lights. “We’re going to starve to death”, Robert said at one point. I agreed. I caught a tiny frog and had a Bear Grylls moment, only I couldn’t hold on to the little thing and it liberated itself among the roadside weeds. “I think it peed on me”, I said, Robert’s words echoing in my head. “We’re gong to starve to death.”
We return to the hotel and catch the young receptionists as they were hastily closing up for the night. We’re hungry and have not eaten since lunch. “Can we help you?” But their eyes dart towards the door and the cool, cool evening, with the promise of Absinthe and young men’s gazes. “Is there any food?” The brunette’s face blanched, “Not within walking distance!”, but her blonde companion pulled at a sliver of memory. “Maybe the deli?” “Yes!” the brunette blushed, “But it is almost nine.” The blonde tugged at her nose wistfully, “Maybe they’re open til half past?” she suggested imaginatively. “No never, half past”, said her friend. “But maybe there’s something 5 blocks further? A taco bell?”
They burst into a flurry of closing activity, the conversation come to an end, and I look at Robert. “We must find sustenance, but I fear the worst.” “Yes, the worst”, answered Robert, “Still…” and we headed out into the night…
Pi Rho, Lake Powell trip sometime in the early 90’s.