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So, OK, I’ve been lousy at posting. I throw myself on my pen in abject humiliation.
What’s been doing? Not a lot really. My philosophy has always been “don’t write if you’ve nothing interesting to write about”. One of my acquaintances on Facebook seems to post daily, if not hourly, on where he’s eating, where he and his husband are going for drinks. And this includes photographs of the beverage-du-jour. I don’t get it, really.
Hmm, one could possibly imagine that I’ve actually got something of significance to chat about. Well, um, maybe…
As some know, I purchased a home in Palm Springs a little more than a year ago. It’s become my Fortress of Solitude, my place to entertain in those rare times when I’m in a party mood, and a place that I can call my own little corner of the universe. I love it there. There’s an odd thing about Palm Springs (although San Francisco seems much the same way) – You arrive with no weekend plans and in short order without discernible effort, your weekend fills with social engagements, catching a meal or a movie, and so on. Then there’s home ownership which brings with it endless chores, another black hole for free time. Does this explain what I’ve been doing lately? I’ll get back to you on that.
In things automotive for those few who vaguely care, after several overheating incidents from split hoses and an ongoing mysterious disappearance of coolant, I decided to trade in my beloved Mercedes. It got to the point that AAA was ready to assign me my own personal tow truck which would follow me waiting for the next breakdown. I can now confidently assure you that breaking down on a 100 degree day in a black car with no shade whatsoever while the engine is cooling slowly from a temperature just below that of the sun is not, repeat not, fun. The new wheels are a 2010 Lexus IS-F which came with a warranty covering the vehicle until the end of time. The IS-F is an oddity. Luxury skillfully blended with white knuckle power. Imagine Frankenstein’s monster dressed in Armani and you’ve got the concept.
Work is well, work. Long hours, endless critiques, whatever joy might have been there is long gone. For those who have extremely long memories, She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, my project’s administrative assistant, went out on disability at the end of November without prior notice and may never return. We’re hoping she never returns. We’re lighting candles in the hope that she never returns. We’d sell ourselves to the devil if needed if it guaranteed that she’d not return. Got the picture? Yeah, thought so.
Back in Bland Diego, er, San Diego, I’ve decided to relocate myself to a less costly but still nice set of digs. Packing is hell, clearly my most hated of activities. Still, there is a degree of adventure digging into closets holding boxes of stuff which have remained untouched for over six years. Last night I found a lovely clock radio which has incredible sound quality and had been buried in a plastic tub of ancient electronics items. Problem is that the radio doesn’t work properly any longer. Why did I keep it? Damned if I know! Perhaps I need an intervention.
This weekend just past involved a birthday party for a good friend. About a dozen guests in all, it involved a casual dinner at a rather nice Mexican restaurant I’d never eaten at. The strange part was when two of the guests departed before dinner orders were placed. No farewells that I saw, they may have waved at the birthday boy before leaving. Kreskin would have been impressed. This would have not been notable were it not for a second couple who departed in much the same fashion after gobbling down dinner. Did I mention that I was seated next to this second couple? Did I mention that we knew one another and have many mutual friends? They merely stood up, handed the party organizer some money, and were gone. Is there some new 21st century social practice that sanctions such actions? Or am I, in addition to suffering increasing senility, living in an antediluvian world of courtesy?
And speaking of feeling out of touch, in the past two weeks I’ve had two good friends announce that they have found men who are their true loves and this after dating for a matter of a few weeks. We’re talking rings and picket fences here folks. It makes me wonder if partnering is now as simple as microwave popcorn. And about as satisfying. Yes, I believe that love at first sight is possible but still...
So, what is the moral of this missive? I don’t know that there is one. I’ve posted. I feel fulfilled.
What’s been doing? Not a lot really. My philosophy has always been “don’t write if you’ve nothing interesting to write about”. One of my acquaintances on Facebook seems to post daily, if not hourly, on where he’s eating, where he and his husband are going for drinks. And this includes photographs of the beverage-du-jour. I don’t get it, really.
Hmm, one could possibly imagine that I’ve actually got something of significance to chat about. Well, um, maybe…
As some know, I purchased a home in Palm Springs a little more than a year ago. It’s become my Fortress of Solitude, my place to entertain in those rare times when I’m in a party mood, and a place that I can call my own little corner of the universe. I love it there. There’s an odd thing about Palm Springs (although San Francisco seems much the same way) – You arrive with no weekend plans and in short order without discernible effort, your weekend fills with social engagements, catching a meal or a movie, and so on. Then there’s home ownership which brings with it endless chores, another black hole for free time. Does this explain what I’ve been doing lately? I’ll get back to you on that.
In things automotive for those few who vaguely care, after several overheating incidents from split hoses and an ongoing mysterious disappearance of coolant, I decided to trade in my beloved Mercedes. It got to the point that AAA was ready to assign me my own personal tow truck which would follow me waiting for the next breakdown. I can now confidently assure you that breaking down on a 100 degree day in a black car with no shade whatsoever while the engine is cooling slowly from a temperature just below that of the sun is not, repeat not, fun. The new wheels are a 2010 Lexus IS-F which came with a warranty covering the vehicle until the end of time. The IS-F is an oddity. Luxury skillfully blended with white knuckle power. Imagine Frankenstein’s monster dressed in Armani and you’ve got the concept.
Work is well, work. Long hours, endless critiques, whatever joy might have been there is long gone. For those who have extremely long memories, She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, my project’s administrative assistant, went out on disability at the end of November without prior notice and may never return. We’re hoping she never returns. We’re lighting candles in the hope that she never returns. We’d sell ourselves to the devil if needed if it guaranteed that she’d not return. Got the picture? Yeah, thought so.
Back in Bland Diego, er, San Diego, I’ve decided to relocate myself to a less costly but still nice set of digs. Packing is hell, clearly my most hated of activities. Still, there is a degree of adventure digging into closets holding boxes of stuff which have remained untouched for over six years. Last night I found a lovely clock radio which has incredible sound quality and had been buried in a plastic tub of ancient electronics items. Problem is that the radio doesn’t work properly any longer. Why did I keep it? Damned if I know! Perhaps I need an intervention.
This weekend just past involved a birthday party for a good friend. About a dozen guests in all, it involved a casual dinner at a rather nice Mexican restaurant I’d never eaten at. The strange part was when two of the guests departed before dinner orders were placed. No farewells that I saw, they may have waved at the birthday boy before leaving. Kreskin would have been impressed. This would have not been notable were it not for a second couple who departed in much the same fashion after gobbling down dinner. Did I mention that I was seated next to this second couple? Did I mention that we knew one another and have many mutual friends? They merely stood up, handed the party organizer some money, and were gone. Is there some new 21st century social practice that sanctions such actions? Or am I, in addition to suffering increasing senility, living in an antediluvian world of courtesy?
And speaking of feeling out of touch, in the past two weeks I’ve had two good friends announce that they have found men who are their true loves and this after dating for a matter of a few weeks. We’re talking rings and picket fences here folks. It makes me wonder if partnering is now as simple as microwave popcorn. And about as satisfying. Yes, I believe that love at first sight is possible but still...
So, what is the moral of this missive? I don’t know that there is one. I’ve posted. I feel fulfilled.
