...
Except when Jim makes them. Then they are sooooo tasty. I have not had many whole drinks in quite a few years, but the bulk of them have been when I'm with the greatest household tarbender in Mendo World. The latest twist on the nightly ritual is that he has found these little rock cubes that he freezes to substitute for the shamefully diluting plain old ice.
What a great idea! The integrity of your perfect cocktail maintained, you, if you are me, sip as slowly as you can stand so as not to have it be over too fast.
The neighbor's cat, who is vexed by the number of dogs all around her, is trying to co-opt Jim, now that Harley isn't here to keep her away. Jim doesn't like cats. So, of course, but of course, she, Shadow, adores Jim.
Peggy is in the living room, listening to Amy Goodman and my blood is boiling. Amy's in Sweden and Peggy has the sound up so loud it can be heard in Sweden. There is no escaping it. Kucinich is going on about the joy in politics in Sweden and if Henrik Palmgren is listening, notwithstanding his extreme youth, he is experiencing the first real symptoms of aneurysm… for dead certain.
See, this sucks, because I so agree, but I cannot brook the social darwinism swept under the Libertarian rug as though it will not possibly be problematic. I'm supposing it wouldn't be problematic for those who can eat, it's those pesky hungry people I worry about, but, don't get me wrong. I feel real, honestly visceral hostility… actually… loathing for these despicably "progressive" fascists blathering on as though anybody on earth could digest this crap.
Peggy is over there listening intently, talking back to all this blather, in her quest to listen to those with whom she does not agree, and agreeing… up to a point, at which point she interjects oh no no no, but keeps going. I don't even have to tear my hair out. It falls out all by itself every time I hear those people.
So. Just because I'm miffed with the lethally deluded "voluntarists" don't get the idea I can stand the fascism crashing on my shores from every other quadrant. I just need to knock heads together and scream for people to just SHUT OUT politics for good. It's broken. It started out broken. It's always been broken and we will not not be broken if we don't STOP this unspeakable asininity once and for all.
Please.
Oh please.
We're beautiful. The world is beautiful. Life is beautiful. Let's do beautiful.
Please.
Like Jim's gin and tonic, let's be beautiful.
...
Just got the awful news from Old Uncle Dave that Ukiah is going to be 103º on Monday. I was planning to take him to lunch for his birthday and this could get epic. I'm trying to keep my rosy outlook, but, well, 103º. Maybe it can be early enough that I can be back out of it before it gets that awful and be slipping up the coast toward my little hole in the ground before my skin starts blistering.
That's my thought... for now.
...
Oh, well, and now more birthday company. So that settles it. He'll have to get his birthday lunch another time. I'll lure him to the Samoa Cookhouse and ply him with killer food. He will be unable to maintain his grumpy old goat facade under the weight of those plates mounded with good old all-American logger meals. He'll have to be cheery from that.
Or.
Not. Good moods are already against the law in many parts of the state.
always and any time....
