Archive for May, 2010

Click
May 31, 2010

When I grew up in Edmonton, the exhibition came to town in the summer, and every year they had a tent that housed all the curiosities of human kind. On the outside there were huge canvas pictorials of what was inside. Sword swallowers, the bearded lady, snake lady and the works. I always thought it was too expensive to visit until one year, when I decided to take a risk and see what was on the inside. The announcer promised a variety of acts and even a mystery act. When I entered, it was layed out in the form of a maze. Each act was shown separately right up to the very end. Then you were led to the back door of the tent, where you left.  

So, step right up folks, I’m going to take you on a modern-day virtual tour. It only costs $2.00 and you get a drink, or, for $4.00 you can have a double. You can even take home a performer if you talk to them nicely. Grab a remote and click along with me as we take a three-hour tour to a new you.

Click: the scene unfolds. Its 5:00pm and we’re in heaven’s waiting room.  The arena is half full. The age group is 65 and older. They’re passive,with energy on low. It’s a sea of white and grey hair, along with shinny heads.  They’re watching, wishing and hoping. Reminiscing about days of old. There’s laughter and tall tales, older clothing styles mixed with new. But an unmistakable joy to be alive.They get ready to move on. It’s time for dinner and more people are filling the spaces.

Click: its 5:20pm.  This is middle age moving in, starting to mix with the older group. These are looking for youth in themselves and others. Wanting what was lost. There’s perfect teeth, money and knowledge,  but they’re not willing to change. Nice clothes by designer, and the finest looks gay can buy. There’s a haunting about them. Lingering loves from the past sorrow them. There’s a longing, and with searching eyes they show unfulfilled needs.  They are wishing for new birth. They don’t acknowledge what they see or what’s coming. Shushhh!

Huddle together now. The rush is coming. You’ll be squeezed and pushed, tossed and elbowed, but enjoy the moment. Hold onto your spot, or secure yourself against an immovable object. It’s beginning. Look! There is muscle man and tatoo man. Look at their beauty. Ripe and pure to the core like fresh picked fruit. Untouched only by their desires. Read the T-Shirts. You can travel the world from this very instant in time. Berlin, Copenhagen, Zürich, Tokyo, Shanghai and Istanbul greet your eyes. Look at their faces, feel their needs. Live their quests. In an instant you can experience the world. Love it. Love it. Enjoy. Order  another $4.00 double. You need this. It is your missing link. Join with them in this parade. Feel everyone’s energy as they pass you. You’ve never experienced this before have you? Isn’t it incredible?

Click: it’s later, 6:00pm. Heady perfumes fill the air, your senses are aroused. This group uses all the five senses to entice , extrapolate and procure. There’s hope expressed here. Hope and longing to fill their missing gap. With some knowledge of life, they long for fulfilment on every level, before it gets to ‘that age’ . New drinks abound.  Vodka ice tea with mint in a carafe. Come with me. I want to show you a few new experiences. Here. Look! . There’s dry cleaning man, pressed and perfect. Hiding a body of desire beneath his clothes. There are the lonely hearts hiding their emotions and in this corner, there’s three men getting a photo shoot from a friend for posterity. Pubic hairs exposed in Technicolor. Black, strawberry blonde and brown. A voice calls out. ‘Haven’t you heard of man scaping?’  “No time”, is the reply. Another reply, “we’re sending you a weed whacker for Christmas!”  Look down. The men are sporting  painted toenails in blue, black and dangerous red. And see, over there. A lone wolf, on the hunt. Be careful. When he’s done with you, he’ll throw your used remains back into the fray. Only vultures will want you then. Let’s move along.

Click: its 6:45pm.  They’re 35 and younger. They have energy to burn and a world to conquer. These will have fun at another’s expense. They only want the best. But what is the best to them? How do they know when they haven’t experienced it? They’ll know it when it happens, they say. And, when their effort fails and collapses, they’ll move on.  They have no conscience. Their skin is soft and their lips are luscious. They play with you like olden day jacks. Flipping for the best. And you wait. Hoping for acceptance. Their presence presses forward with all the energy in the world, conquering their surroundings. I know it’ s hard, but follow. At this point, if you need another drink it will be twenty-five minutes before you return. The arena is full. There are three hundred here. Push your way forward.  “Top coming through”, “top coming through”, “make way”. With surprised looks the crowd parts. Smile. The crowd is laughing. They know it’ s not true, but they let us pass. We’re at peak time. Look at the manly beauty around you. Picture yourself with the impossible. Be patient, it can happen!

Well look over here. A remnant from 5:00pm. He’s sitting quietly with a coke and he’s watching. Watching the watchers. All the fashions, styles and do’s. Spartans and Davids, Napoleons and Kings, Queens and serfs all vying for a piece of eternity that is lost before it starts. There are the drinkless, standing in their concrete shells, waiting to be broken open by someones initial conversation.  See the travellers and out of towners. They’re experiencing the moment and wanting to know the truth.  What is this moment in these surroundings? So many people. It’s a step back in time. A past era reborn in a new moment.  But lets move on. Step over here folks. We have a surprise for you.  Look! It’s Marilyn. Identical looks and dressed in red single open toed heels with bows and white polka dots. Shapely legs showing off the perfect body, with tight shorts and a gingham blouse. There’s a mouth of perfunctory artistry created by a dozen dentists. She turns and a beam of light catches her brown eyes. It reflects gold and preprogrammed agendas and goals, the length of your arm. She carries a tea-cup puppy dressed in a small red and white gingham shirt. It gives her extra attention and oohs. The puppy shouldn’t be here. It’s too young to be away from its mother. Her man friend is beaming. He knows he’s won the trophy…Best In Show. No one can top this. Watch them sway the crowd. How mesmerized everyone looks. Well, folks, there’s just a couple of performers left to see. Let’s move along.

Click: it’s 7:50pm. Finally, our last set of performers for you this evening. See, look over there, it’s the gaggle of gays. See their long necks leading to vicious beaks. These are the youngest. They’re  territorial and they move in groups. They program their evenings in advance and act silly. When you watch them long enough you’ll start to rekindle your own younger feelings inside.

Click: It’s 8:00pm and our tour is over. You get one last glance around and we can move you to our exit. Hope you’ve enjoyed the trip folks. Please drop off your remotes as you leave. Remember it’s still early and it’s Friday night. There are lots of rides out there.

The Dying Art of Experience
May 27, 2010

I was doing a walk through for a mixer function combining the West Hollywood and the Beverly Hills Chamber of Commerce. By referral, since I had previously done functions at this location, their people called their own people in charge of doing their functions, and they contacted me. Channels were opened into the sealed vaults of acceptability and we got the job. As I was questioning what services, rentals and other items were to be supplied, since we were limited to supplying the food, I discovered that they had only ordered four six-foot tables to hold the food and a bar for two hundred guests. Boutique wines were to be served, but there was no allowance for sodas or water. Coffee? Florals were questionable. And linens? What about table coverings? What about pedestal tables? Last minute requests were put to the people in charge of knowing what the people were suppose to be doing and changes were made. What if I hadn’t done the walk through?

Experience is a collection of skills developed over time and turned into knowledge. It’s previous encounters and situations accumulated, used as a referral in the mind to handle situations old or new. It allows you to wrap your mind around a situation and either think outside the box or use perceived knowledge to solve a problem. Now a days, however, experience is becoming a product of information stored on a data base or the internet. This internet form of experience is allowing people to call themselves ‘experts’, without knowing the skills or having first hand knowledge. It’s created laziness. They plug a statement into a computer and use someone elses knowledge for an answer. But they don’t know how that answer was arrived at. The caveat to this is that real life situations have the same components. No experience, no knowledge. There are no real shortcuts. People only think there is, until things begin to unravel.

Awhile ago, Eberhard called the help line for Microsoft regarding a fax printer. He related the problem to the person on the line and they typed the question into the computer. They waited for the answer to be revealed. Nothing came back. He was transferred to someone with more knowledge. This kept occurring over a period of two days and a total time of three hours. The conclusion: “it can’t be done”. Because Eberhard grew up in the computer age as it changed and advanced, he garnered a large amount of basics and fundamentals. He stored that knowledge and has added to its base continually. Looking into his problem himself more acutely and understanding the principles behind ‘registry’ and how it works, he applied his knowledge and corrected the problem. This was over a year ago and it still works perfectly to this day.

Experience  is becoming a lost commodity. Experience is suppose to equal value.

Just Another Weekend
May 25, 2010

He moved over one chair so that we could all sit together. I thanked him and this opened up a new conversation. Ed’s birthday is in two weeks and he’ll be eighty-five. He’s given up on counting birthdays. They have no meaning. Youth is wasted on the young and they are too spoilt. He looks great for his age and looking at him I’d say he was in his late sixties. He says his friends are better than sex and he hasn’t had that pleasure in five years. He thinks about death, but it doesn’t scare him anymore. The only thing he feels about death is a slight apprehension and a lingering wonderment of what it’ll be like. He feels America, is going backwards with some of its latest developments. He doesn’t like to see the bigotry and selfishness. Life hasn’t been easy for him. He really has no money, but he’s happy. The most pleasurable thought to him is that he has no regrets. He gets up to leave with his partner to go for dinner and gives me a kiss and a hug. I feel his pacemaker against my chest, there is a moment and we laugh. 

Jay and Chris take Ed and his partners place on the bar stools. We know these two.  They order their favorite drinks. Jay says to Chris, “I bought you a new TV today. It was eight bills”. There’s a major difference of perspective. Chris replies. ” No, you bought yourself a TV and I’ll get mine back”. Jay just wants a “thankyou”. Chris just wants”love”. They sip their drinks arguing until they are called to their table for dinner. Chris wants calamari.

Joe on the left, Eberhard on the right

Joe, Eberhard and I decide on fish for dinner and we make a move for our favorite fresh fish place. We sit outside, the air is warm. Most of the tourists have left and there is a noticeable drop in business. The live band starts up in the back, but we’re far enough away, that our conversation isn’t interrupted. We discuss homes. Joe has just moved, and we will be shortly. The fish is fresh and tastes great.

We head across the street to the video bar. There’s a couple of empty chairs and we grab them. Our mood is quiet and we get into the music that’s playing. Joe and I split a cherry bomb. We all have a busy day tomorrow so we call it quits early and head home.

It’s Saturday, 8:00 a.m. and I’m called first. Cleaning, x-rays, examination. I need bridge repair and a new crown. Eberhard gets off easy. A cleaning. The contractor meets us at 10:00am. We’ve rushed back from McDonald’s drive through to be here on time. Eberhard can’t eat his meal. There’s cheese on it and he forgot to tell them no cheese. I eat his food. Measuring tapes and conversations. Estimate in a few days. We head over to Joes to see his new house and pick-up a microwave he has for us. Great view of the mountains and the golf course. A new neighbor of Joe stops while we’re loading the microwave into the car. The mail box is just outside Joes house and they’re picking up their mail. Everyone says “Hi” and introductions ensue. They live two doors over. They were the first. First on the street, first to finish their house, first to tear down their new existing patio, first to hire the right contractors and first to give advice on all the rules and regulations that Joe will be abiding by. They live in Santa Monica and they come here on weekends. Her husband tires of the conversation and goes to the car to read the mail. Blah, blah, blah, continues.

We head back home. The next contractor will be here at 2:00pm. We have an hour to kill. We phone our friends to see who’s coming out later. Only Joe. We discuss changes to the new place. We get a call. Our contractor is there early. We rush back. He’s very through with every measurement. Allen shows up for a ‘look see’. Allen and I talk and tour the new place, while Eberhard and the contractor discuss needs. We finish up and everyone leaves. It’s noteable that each and every contractor that came to give an estimate had a different approach to the same situation. It will be interesting to see the results. We go back home to drop off the car and change for the evening. We call a taxi and get him to take us to a Jewish deli we’ve heard about, but haven’t tried. We’re hungry. It’s just a block from where we’ll meet Joe later. Great tasting, fresh whopping sandwiches which leave us too full. “What are your hours”? I ask. “For fifty-three years, seven days a week, 7:00 am to 9:00 pm”, was the answer. We’ll be back.

We get to our street and go into the corner store to check our lottery tickets and buy new ones. We cross the street to blow our winnings. Three dollars each. We’re ready to take a breather. Tommy gets our usual and we take the drafts outside to the patio. We won’t be playing our usual game of pool today. It’s later than we normally start and the tables are occupied. Eberhard says hello to a few acquaintances. Two are very playful. We review the day till Joe arrives. We share time and a refill with Joe and catch up. It’s getting late and we move next door. Joe starts talking to someone wearing a T-shirt that has a crucifixion imprint and the words ‘forgive them lord, they know not what they do, typed across the bottom. He crosses himself frequently and regurgitates phrases from the Bible. He’s been a hustler since he was seventeen and is on his way to Alaska. He was just in Florida and Boston. Joe turns to me and whispers “get me out of this”. He wants a hundred bucks for the evening. I tell Joe “he’s cheap”. We manage to steer the conversation back to us and the hustler leaves. Joe’s hungry so he goes across the street for pizza and he will join us at the video bar after he eats.

Two cherry bombs later and uneventful chair hugging has me tired and Eberhard cold. The temperature has changed quickly and he wants to change into warmer clothes. We head home and I stay in for the night. I have great intentions to do some blogging, but when I wake up the next morning I see nothing took place.

Eberhard and Joe head off to the wonders of the evening. Joe disappears later and Eberhard stops at the local store to call a taxi.  Two guys are at the counter counting out their last change to buy something. They don’t have enough money. One runs back to the car to search all the crevices and consul for more change. No luck. One approaches Eberhard. “How much does it cost you to get to where you are going by taxi”?  “Fifteen dollars”, says Eberhard. “If you give us ten dollars we will drive you home”. Eberhard agrees. They are very polite and even open the passenger door for him. The drivers friend has to go to Rancho Mirage, which is closer, but insists he will drop Eberhard off first. So he drives to Palm Springs then to Rancho Mirage then back to Palm Springs. Great planning. 

Its Sunday morning. I call my sisters in Canada. Both of them had tried to reach me yesterday, but I was out both times. They are in the process of moving. Trapped by circumstances and poor planning, there’s regret and tears of frustration on the phone. They thank me for the birthday cards I sent. I wish them well, unable to help outside of emotional support.

Eberhard and I head to the jacuzzi outside. Temperature is cooler outside, but the water is warm. We have some of our best conversations here. It begins. 

Life is full of priorities and curveballs. We have to make the most of our life situations that take us off track or interrupt our goals. Then we have to get back to what we feel we love or have to do and continue on our way. Eberhard likens it to steering a ship sideways. Entering the flow when necessary to use the flow to help with the direction you want to take. It takes an effort. If you don’t want to hold the steering wheel, the waves will take you every which way. He mentions a girl he knew in high school who believed everything bad just happened to her. Eberhard responded with “life doesn’t single out someone and say you are the golden child or, you are the black sheep’. Sometimes bad things lead to good things. A previous bad relationship he had led him to leave and purchase a condo when prices were down. We met shortly after that event. You have to be willing to let the good things in.

Laundry and the weekly shopping run was next. Then post all my expenses in Quickbooks for the week. Then off to Lowes and Home Depot to price fixtures. Almost ready to head back to L.A. Some packing and we’re on our way.

Now I’m tired, but its back to work tomorrow.

Gino
May 21, 2010

It was probably around 1976 and I had made some renovations to the basement area at B & B. Originally it had housed the public rest rooms, an office, staff room and a large storeroom. I removed everything except the public rest rooms and changed the entire area to allow more customers. I made it a casual atmosphere with sofas, coffee tables, an alcove that housed a small waterfall and a salad bar. Salad bars were the ‘in thing’ at the time. Because it was during the hippie movement I made ours very earthy, with lots of vegetarian selections. I brought in large rock boulders and placed them around the area to give an outdoor feel on the inside. If that was possible.

He was either a promoter or a manager, but he frequented the B & B a few times, before he approached me one day. Young, tall, lean, blond and all the brashness of someone on the way up, he asked me if I would consider staying open late one evening. He said he represented an entertainer that would be performing in Edmonton soon, and he needed a place where he and his band could come and have a bite to eat after their concert. He told me it was Gino Vannelli who was on tour across Canada. It was during Gino’s early years, before he became well-known. I was so into my own small world at the time, I had never heard of this person. But I agreed, and we set things up.

The day came, and it was long. I kept a few staff on to help and one o’clock arrived and no one came. We waited. Finally around two in the morning, the promoter came in, followed by members of the band. Very big in stature. I wondered if I had enough food to feed them. They wanted the salad bar specifically because they were all vegetarians, and they chose the place because of its casualness. I was introduced to the band members as they came in and they settled into getting comfortable, with comments like “wow, this is cool” and “all right”.

About ten minutes after the band had settled in, a tall good-looking man entered. “Hi, I’m Gino”, he said, with a huge smile and all this hair. My first thought was the famous portrait of Louis XIV, not the person, but the long curly flowing locks of auburn/brunette hair. An open white shirt and a chest full of matching hair protruding over the lapels. Gino was still in costume and for all intents and purposes, he felt and looked like a star. He had presence. His promoter gave a short introduction and then he moved on to join his band members. We didn’t hang around, because the salad bar was self-serve, but while we waited we heard lots of laughing, music vernacular and general merriment. With no time limit set, we waited. And we waited. They finally made a move to leave close to five in the morning. Gino made an effort to find me and told me how much they had enjoyed and appreciated the repass. He asked me how much the damage was, and something told me not to charge them. So I didn’t. I told them it was on the house. Gino was shocked and pleasantly surprised. He studied me for a while, then grabbed my hand with a great two-handed handshake, thanking me, from himself and for his band. “Well Robert, the next time we meet, I owe you one”. I wished them all the best in the future and they left.

I’m still waiting for that meeting.

Expressions from Childhood
May 19, 2010

We all grew up with different expressions during childhood. I’m sure I’ve forgotten many, but here are a few that I remember.

pull my finger – dad’s expression when he had to fart

you can count your best friends on one hand – dad’s expression when someone close disappointed him

Japanese definition of anger:  temporary insanity – an expression dad used when he came home from work occasionally, or when us kids were upset

kid you won’t even remember today, ten years from now – dad’s instructions to us when we were frustrated

if you can’t do the job right, don’t do it at all – mom’s instructions to me when I was cleaning the house

if it wasn’t for us – mom’s specific instruction to me. It made me fiercely independent.

kid, be happy – dad’s instructions to us when we were fighting amongst each other.

I’m so sick of people – dad’s comment when he’d get home from a bad day at the office

snard – dad’s definition: a person who farts in the bathtub and bites the bubbles. Dad’s description of someone he didn’t like.

Niff noff – an expression dad used to describe something stupid one of us kids had done

Chri*t, I just paid that credit card off – dad to whom ever was listening – an expression of frustration

Stop right now or you’ll get the wooden spoon – mom’s expression when we were bad. It was a fear tactic. It never happened. She never moved from her chair.

Get off the grass – mom to the neighbors kids

Dad stop that! You shouldn’t be teaching them that – mom to dad, referring to us kids

You kids make me sick – mom to us seven kids

When you look in the mirror you see your best friend and your worst enemy – dad’s expression when he wanted to teach us something meaningful

Cafe Hag – dad’s expression when he had a great cup of coffee

They think their sh*t doesn’t stink, but their farts give them away – dad’s definition of someone who was arrogant

Who Wants the Message?
May 19, 2010

No One!

What is the message?

Opinion.

Well meaning words fall on deaf ears. Noise abounds everywhere. Crys from humanity, personal pain, words from music, TV moderators, bloggers, rules and regulations, church, government, big business and people. People everywhere.

Simon and Garfunkel had it in a nutshell when they wrote ‘hello darkness, my old friend’. It’s easier to stay in your own darkness than to let light in. We’ve created so many false gods to obstruct our view and solidify this illusion. Well meaning intentions fade with each second of time.

Even tonight, I just want peace and quiet.

South Africa, Generally
May 19, 2010

Why could I not find a shirt with such a beautiful print?

A few years ago Eberhard and I went to South Africa for a visit. Eberhard had lived there for twenty-one years while growing up and we were to visit family and tour the country.

The country has a distinct rawness to its character, bordering on wild. Once you’ve felt this feeling, you will never forget it. Its diverse in its heritage and has a satiated intense beauty, unlike any I’d ever experienced before. It’s gameness to please seeps into your body and fills you with a constant feeling of awe.  The friendliness of the people gave me compassion for their purpose. A purpose that seeks recognition and fulfilment. A purpose still in its womb, not yet birthed.

Like any country, South Africa has its problems, But it also has endless potential. It’s the America for Africa. Even it’s history is similar. It was discovered by Europeans, settled and colonized. It has had its civil war, apartheid,  and emancipation, much like America had its civil war, slaves and emancipation. Its vastness and topography made it difficult to meld the country with rail and roads so everyone there could connect. Numerous entities and languages kept people separated. And the country has rich, natural resources and climate. They even grow pineapple. Much like America.

But, with all of this, whats wrong?

Direction. It lacks an envisioned leader for guided direction. It has crime, and it has corruption. They traded past white control for new black control, but forgot, like all the homes there, to put screens on their doors, to keep out pests and vermin. Many of their new laws are actually reverse discrimination and have yet to be challenged by anyone and the High Court. The intent of the new laws is to give opportunity to the impoverished, but without a substantial background of education, the jobs seem to fall into the hands of the unqualified. Many of the qualified people have left the country. Ones who had the knowledge on how to keep their infrastructure in tact and geared for the future. With the World Cup this year, South Africa will be center stage. Maybe a bit early for that position. The people of South Africa will be the winners at this event. Not the fact they were chosen for the games.  The South African people will get hope in their lives. One of the best driving forces for progress. Team it with enthusiasm and insight and they’ll be unstoppable.

There is much more to say about this country. It’s food and culture are not even touched on in this short blog. Let alone basic needs. Here are two ideas that came to me while I was there, that may help. Someone take these and run with them.

First, I wanted to return to the U.S. with a shirt ( not a T-shirt) that said ‘I’ve been to South Africa’. I don’t mean the words, but something that says ‘I’ve been created by the people of this great country and it’s a part of me. Now go take it home and show it to the rest of the world’. But, I couldn’t find one. I found heavy objects and trinkets and carvings, but these were awkward to carry, too large and too heavy. I wanted something that would pack easily into my suitcase. I came up with the following:

There are impoverished townships we passed on our trip. A lot of these people and throughout the country have AIDS. They don’t have a decent income to pay for their meds and basically they lack purpose in their lives. However, they do have talent. Artistic talent. I saw many carvers creating huge giraffes and elephants or other similar objects for the tourists, or women weaving beads together. Get them to transfer their talent to shirts for tourists. This is almost a take on the Hawaiian shirt. The original Hawaiian shirts had wooden buttons made from the monkeypod tree. These African shirts could have buttons made from the carving material they use for their carvings. The shirts could be originals when signed by their creators. You could develop themes. Their wildlife. Their flora and fauna. Their people. Ideas are endless. By the way if someone starts this, please send me a shirt. I’m a medium to large.

The second idea is bicycles. Public transportation outside the major cities is non existant. Even in the cities transportation leaves lots to be desired. Develop a bicycle factory. Create jobs. It has to be a bike that is simple, basic and goes from A to B and is free or inexpensive. Everywhere we drove, we saw endless amounts of people walking miles to do basic living requirements. Develop a program where businesses support the project. It will give them a great sense of freedom.

Friction
May 18, 2010

Webster’s dictionary defines friction as  a conflict; clash; a force that retards or resists the relative motion of two touching objects; the rubbing of a surface or object against another. So lets begin.

Conflict and clash. There is verbal friction, inner conflict, outer conflict and all are usually a clash of ideas or emotions. Last week I experienced all of these moments. There are never any real winners or losers when these events happen. There are a lot of compromises which in fact are temporary reprieves from confrontation. I’ve never been good with confrontation. Ask Eberhard. When confrontation rears its ugly head, my supple, well-defined and toned legs carry me as fast as possible from the fact. (I don’t want this too serious, I’m using my imagination here). Accepting another persons point of view can be one of the hardest things we do on a daily basis. If we take the actual ‘friction’ and remove its resistance there is peace. It’s not easy. We hold on to all of our perceived notions and beliefs because we’ve accepted them as out truths. And no one, no one, is going to change that fact. But what if the other person is viewing this whole scenario the same way you are, but the movie in their head is different? Different than the movie playing in your head. (Wow! I’m making this too difficult. No wonder it’s called a Twar). Lets make it simple. Two people. Two movies playing. Both the same plot and theme. Only the scenery is different. Enter the force. Acceptance of each others scenery by the removal of a few items. A blending of the two scenery sets. Conclusion. One movie, same plot and theme, just an altered background. Peace.

Maybe the  best way to achieve a conclusion to the’ friction of conflict’ you may be feeling is to put your energy into some of the things you like doing. I went dancing to shake loose the restraint I was feeling. The next morning an excursion to someplace I hadn’t experienced before. My choice was a breakfast place I’ve been trying to get to for over a year. And last, but not least I’m going to finish off the last definition of friction: the rubbing of a surface or object against another.  I’ve made an appointment and will rejuvenate with a massage. This is more friction, but this time with a cushioning layer of lotion between two hands and my body that will soothe, relax and terminate the final drained feeling and exhaustion I’ve felt.

Snack Food
May 16, 2010

I was crossing the street with Rosita, Jorge’s Chihuahua. We were on our way back from a long walk, when a Volkswagen Beetle came around the corner. A large Rottweiler had its head outside the window taking in the wind. With a gesture to his dog, the driver points to Rosita and says, “look Duke…..tacos”.

Got Conflict?
May 14, 2010

You know when someone gets the love they need, all the discord falls away.

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