Boot or Sandal?

Note to Gay America: racist is the new skunk spray, NOT the new black. ( Read more... )

The big ol' remodeling project that John had started on the house has hit the mother of all snags... the last couple of bills from the contractor have effectively sucked up the last of John's line of credit from the bank, as well as a bit of money from other (legal) sources that I won't mention here. He was in such a bad way when I got home today. asking me "What do you think? (and knowing full well he wasn't talking about what was for dinner).

I'm scared for him because he worked so hard to get the plans and money together for this (and he feels like it's falling so woefully short after putting it off for so many years), and scared because I want to get something together to help him out of this beyond what I've been doing for regular bills. (I might ask my mom, but we'll see...).

In other news, I'm back out walking again - trying to get my mind right about a bunch of things, and hopefully keep the weight down while I'm at it.

John's on a cleaning frenzy (because his son and daughter-in-law are coming down for an overnight visit and John's folks' annual Christmas Eve get-together), and I find it ever so annoying (partly because - by logical extension - I have to participate in the housecleaning if I ever want to see at least half of my stuff again!).

Life sucks when you're antisocial and surrounded by some of the most social animals around!!

So much for my sports prognostication abilities...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

(That felt better.)

Reality... it escapes me much more often than I seem to be able to escape it.

A few hours ago, I got grief from my boss for trying to rig additional network access to my iBook at the office in a way that would give a certain other manager more ammunition with which to club both of us over the head.

As it turns out, I hid the CAT5 cable (50 feet of it running from my cubicle to the next) and got out of there a second ahead of the Smelly Beast ("SB")'s regular patrol of the Tech Support area. SB is ticked because of a couple of occasions where she caught me shouting obscenities (with the MUTE button on, mind you. As if it mattered; SB's daughter's office is within earshot, so I got busted... frequently.); nonetheless, they were waiting for a bigger blowup - which I provided in June of last year, when I airmailed one of the dress Fluevogs into a wall during a call with an especially abusive customer. Since then, I (and my entire department, since SB can't stand that we don't report to her) have been on a watch for bad behavior and misappropriation of company resources. Needless to say, any MP3's and such come with me, and typically leave with me at the end of the day).

Took a walk at lunchtime (in 91-degree heat... OUCH!), and that calmed me down a bit. Nonetheless, the Mary Kay-esque stench that straightens my frizzy neck hairs looms in the distance...

Growing up with parents and other relatives who never really tried to bring anything other than conflict into each other's lives, I always automaticallyassumed that everybody else's circle of family and friends and such got along better. Living in a small town these past few years has brought more than a few challenges to that assumption, since most of John's and my friends seem to have segments of the community about whom they frequently have some less-than-pleasant things to say. John does it, too - after all, living in a place for 30 years produces those kind of relationships (and relationship breakdowns).

Last Saturday showed that "rule" and one of its numerous exceptions. The rule, in my estimation, was heading up to Spring Green with John for a graduation party for two of his nieces - one from eighth grade, one from high school. John's family always seemed like they got along... not robotically well, but well enough to ride some rough shit and still be able to be civil to each other, and anybody brought into the family. Friends and family all around, and (even though the food was real good this time) a good time was had by all who attended (It didn't hurt that there was a Cubs game on throughout, followed by a tape of a school play, "The Three-Piggy Opera," featuring the oldest of the Greenwood great-grandchildren as the Wolf.).

Contrast that with the Fire Department steak feed that evening back in Point. Things went well; we got our dinner and all. Some older lady came up to say hi to John; he said, "Hi, Gerda" and that would seem to have been nothing special. On the way back to the car, he told me who the woman was, and explained why he didn't want to introduce me (a cascade of personal beefs, some related to the theater group in town, some related to the woman's daughter and son-in-law; I only knew the son-in-law, and let's just say he doesn't think highly of John and me being a couple.). I asked him for some details (my inner gossip-hound!), and let's just say I got more than I asked for, as well as another excuse to ask John what it is about his circle of friends and their concentric circles that makes falling out with each other so damn easy.

I wonder what other rhetorical questions are still out there, just waiting for fools like me to act like they have real, concrete answers?

Doesn't anybody want to pay taxes anymore?